The Haunted Inspector

by Ruggeri, Claudio; Kerry, Judy;

  Once calm had been restored, the first to speak was Di Girolamo, who explained his research on the records of all mobile devices found to be operating in the area of Grotte Celoni, where Chiara had abandoned her car and where, in all likelihood, she had met her murderer.

  “...until I was contacted by the inspector, who asked me whether anyone on the list was in any way connected to the film industry.”

  It was then the turn of Officer Pennino, who was also keen to reveal the recent findings.

  “We may also have an image...”, Germano increased his concentration, waiting for his colleague to continue.

  “We’ve viewed all the CCTV footage from all the shops along the route taken by Chiara that evening, or at least the route taken by her phone; anyway, we’ve had some images blown up.”

  The officer handed round a sheet of A3 showing a photo which clearly depicted a man and a woman leaving a bar; there was no doubt that the woman was Chiara Clementi, whereas the man, slim in build, of average height and with short fair hair, was probably the one they were looking for, Carlo Ricci, the make-up artist.

  Officer Pennino then brought the team’s attention to a second photo, with the enlarged image of the registration plate and model of the car that they had both got into shortly afterwards.

  “I assume it was stolen...”, Germano suddenly added.

  “We don’t know. The registration plate was; it belonged to a Peugeot and the owner reported the theft the day after Chiara disappeared.”

  “Where?”

  “In Rome, Inspector, in Torre Angela”.

  Detective Di Girolamo was wondering whether the man had stolen a car and registration plate separately, in order to muddy the waters even further; the inspector knew what he was thinking and spoke first.

  “Don’t mull it over too much Giulio, our man isn’t the type to steal cars, and more importantly, let’s not forget that he didn’t set out to kill; what he was after at the most was some precautionary measure in case there was a witness, nothing more.”

  “So the grey Fiat Punto in the photo isn’t stolen?”

  “No, Giulio, what would be the point of stealing a car to cover your tracks if you already own the most popular model?”

  Detective Parisi, who until that point had only been listening, ran a quick query on the computer and after twenty seconds or so looked up from the monitor and smiled at the inspector. Carlo Ricci had bought a grey Fiat Punto three years earlier.

  Officer Venditti could hardly contain himself: “Let’s go and get that son of a bitch and lock him up!”

  “Calm down”, said Germano, continuing in a decidedly calmer tone of voice: “For the moment these are all assumptions, we can’t request a DNA test without something firmer to go on. Angelo?”

  “Yes.”

  “Concentrate on the tracking of Ricci’s phone, check it against Chiara’s and let’s see if they match.”

  “Ok.”

  Parisi stood up immediately and left the office, making for the second floor of the station. With any luck he would have the answer to this crucial point within half an hour.

  The others stayed where they were and began to hypothesise on how events had unfolded that night. The first to speak was Officer Pennino.

  “So, Inspector, did our man pick his victims while he was at work?”

  “Yes, I think that’s exactly what he did. After all, many young girls would like to become actresses; maybe he chose them as he was preparing them for their auditions, then all he needed to do was take a look at their files and job done. He would have all the information he needed, including their home address.”

  “Did he follow them?”

  “Probably, but only for a few days at the most, then he would go into action.”

  Venditti looked stunned, incredulous as everything was becoming clear. He wanted to know more about the travesties and Germano’s response made him wait no further.

  “The heart of this whole sorry story lies precisely in his make-up skills and the art of disguise; his job not only gives him a way of coming into contact with his unwitting victims, but also of camouflaging himself; in other words, of making sure that the investigations focus on someone who doesn’t exist, on a ghost.”

  “That’s why he could feel so sure of himself...”, was the brief observation of Officer Venditti before his boss continued: “Of course, all those years ago he had dark hair in a bob-like style and a moustache, whereas today he’s fair-haired, but I don’t think he’s actually either of these; that evening he must have followed Chiara, then caught her attention somehow and at the same time must have made her feel safe, at ease, then...”.

  “Sorry, Inspector, so the point of contact must have been in Grotte Celoni below her boyfriend’s flat, where we found her car...”, interrupted Di Girolamo.

  “I’m sure of it.” replied Germano. “Chiara went there with the intention of surprising her boyfriend, but it turned out that he was otherwise engaged...in fact the gift that we found in her car was obviously for him; she must have realised that Matteo, her boyfriend, was at home with another woman, and maybe she saw them kissing, I don’t know, but at that point she backed off and didn’t buzz the intercom and that’s when Carlo Ricci made his move.

  Officer Venditti suddenly remembered something.

  “I was there when they examined Chiara’s car and they said that the jack might have been missing from the boot, as no dust had collected in the area where it should have been.”

  “Maybe he pretends to break down, Chiara gives him a hand and he offers her a drink by way of thanks; but she’s not that gullible, she would definitely have been a bit shaken after seeing what her boyfriend was up to, but not stupid...”

  “Inspector, are you saying that at some point she smelt a rat?”

  “Exactly, Venditti, otherwise it wouldn’t make sense for him to throw her bag into the scrubland in Tuscolo. Maybe he was taking her there to attack her, she realises what’s happening and tries to call for help, at this point he stops her by getting rid of her only means of communication and starts threatening her with the knife. The journey then lasts only a couple more kilometres, to where we found her.”

  “It doesn’t seem possible...”

  “Sorry, Venditti?...”

  “No, it’s nothing, Inspector, I was just saying that it all seems so absurd, so crazy...”

  “And yet I believe it’s all true, I remember when we were investigating the same person fifteen years ago at the time of the rapes, he drove the whole of the Flying Squad crazy with his little games....”

  Two very long minutes passed in silence; Germano was about to pull a cigarette out of his jacket pocket when he was interrupted by the arrival of Parisi. He burst in without knocking or saying a word; everyone instinctively turned towards him, anxiously awaiting news of the phone tracking.

  “It’s him...”

  Venditti’s hand instinctively went for his handcuffs, almost looking forward to the moment, now imminent, when he would be using them. Germano, however, forced himself to keep a clear head.

  “Wait, it’s not over yet, first of all we have to get hold of a recent photo of Ricci, otherwise we run the risk of still looking for a ghost...”

  “Let’s try his work, I could go there tomorrow...”, Di Girolamo immediately suggested, but the inspector intervened just as quickly: “No, we’d better not, our names and faces have been all over the papers throughout the investigation and he might recognise us. Let’s not forget that he knows that he’s guilty, he’ll be paranoid and constantly on the lookout”, Germano paused briefly and after nervously lighting another cigarette, continued: “It needs to be someone who hasn’t shown their face anywhere, who doesn’t make him feel threatened...Venditti?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you up for it?”

  “Of course. It goes without saying.”

  “But wait, you’re not going to arrest him or anything...tomorrow you just go to his workplace, try to find out wh
ere the HR office is and who’s in charge of it, you should only speak to that person and that’s it.”

  “I understand, I’ll get a photo and...should I also identify myself?”

  “Yes, but only to the head of HR or their deputy, make it clear to them that they should keep quiet about your visit, and whoever else you come across, just make something up, but it has to be believable.”

  “That I’ve been called for an audition or something like that?”

  “No, that would be too easy to check up on, you’ll think of something.”

  “And what about us?”, asked Di Girolamo as soon as Germano had finished.

  “We’ll try to apprehend him even without the photos, let’s start with a surveillance team outside his apartment block on Via Casilina and tracking his phone and grey Fiat Punto”.

  “Presumably I should take care of the phone tracking, Inspector?”

  “Of course, Parisi, you’re the King of phone tracking, after all. Venditti will sort the photo and the rest of us will take turns with the surveillance.”

  Di Girolamo interrupted to ask if there was any indication of the man they were looking for, the make-up artist Carlo Ricci. Germano replied on behalf of everyone.

  “I reckon we’ll have those photos by midday tomorrow, but in the meantime we’re looking for a man of average height, single, normal build and middle aged, not necessarily dark-haired or fair, maybe with red hair but most likely bald, and he doesn’t have a dog.”

  “Are we sure of that?”

  “Yes, Giulio, if he had a dog, Forensics would have found some trace of it at the crime scene, dog hairs get everywhere and would have definitely left a trace; we need a list of all occupants, what floor does Ricci live on?”

  “The second”, responded Parisi.

  “Ok, two of us will get to work on that second floor, to watch him directly from there, we’ll try to catch him as he comes home.”

  “When do we start?”

  “Right now.”

  11

  At eleven that night, two unmarked police cars double parked next to an eight-storey block on via Casilina; in the first was Di Girolamo and Pennino, in the second the inspector and Fiorini.

  All four got out and, glancing furtively towards the apartments on the second floor, they could see that all the lights were out; they did not know whether their man was already inside or not yet home.

  They returned to their respective cars and the inspector picked up the radio.

  “Di Girolamo, can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Do me a favour, go inside and check the serial plate in the lift. I need to know who’s responsible for the maintenance and their contact number. You shouldn’t have any problems, there’s no concierge for this block.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Germano started smoking nervously as he watched his detective slip inside that block at night, like a thief. Officer Fiorini was not on close enough terms with the inspector to ask him to elucidate.

  After three or four minutes Di Girolamo reappeared and walked across to the car.

  “Inspector?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The name is Mides and their number is 441017.”

  “Perfect.”

  Germano took his phone out of his pocket and dialled the number he had just been given; his call was eventually answered after the tenth ring.

  “Hello...Mides”.

  “Good evening, sorry to disturb you, this is Inspector Germano speaking, from the Police”.

  “Oh God...”

  “It’s nothing to worry about, I just need you to bring me a couple of sets of your work overalls, I’m outside the property on via Casilina where one of your lifts is located.”

  “But I can’t leave the office, if the boss catches me I’ll get the sack.”

  “I understand, but how many of you are there on duty?”

  “There are two of us, one to answer the phone and the other to go out on emergencies.”

  “Right, well you can consider this an emergency, imagine that I’m calling you from one of your lifts and that I’m stuck inside it, how long will it take you to get here?”

  “I should be able to make it in quarter of an hour.”

  “Perfect, I’ll be waiting for you by the flower stall, I’ll be pretending to look at some flowers, you’ll recognise me by my blue jacket and cowboy boots.”

  “Look, if this is some kind of joke...”

  “And if it’s not?”

  “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  Along with the flower stall there was also a bar, which Germano had spotted from the unmarked car, that did not seem to want to close that evening; the inspector decided to kill time with a coffee and, checking that he had some change on him, walked over.

  He was perhaps a bit over-anxious, although he tried not to show any hint of this to his colleagues, especially after discovering that Carlo Ricci was indeed the same person responsible for the crimes all those years ago; he did not want to give the impression that this case was personal to him, although in truth it was exactly that.

  As the barman served the inspector his coffee, he wondered what was weighing down so heavily on his customer’s mind and was convinced that it had to be a woman.

  A few minutes later Germano was standing by the flower stall, looking at the different types of flowers and noticed that at the top of the stand, in a vase, were some stunning red roses. He asked for a bunch, remembering that it had been a long time since he had given his wife any flowers, and this might just be the right occasion.

  As he took his change from the flower seller his glance shifted away from the street and he did not notice a young man aged about thirty approaching him in long strides.

  “Excuse me, are you Germano?”

  “Yes, please come with me...”

  They waited until they were a few metres away before resuming the conversation.

  “Sorry about earlier, Inspector, but we often get people having us on!”

  “Don’t worry about it, in fact I should thank you for coming so soon.”

  “I’ve got the overalls here in this bag but...what exactly do we need to do?”

  “I’ll explain everything, let’s go over to the car.”

  Officer Fiorini almost jumped when she heard the passenger door open; she had not noticed the inspector approaching.

  “Sorry, I didn’t ask you your name.”

  “Luca, Inspector.”

  “Ok Luca, let me introduce you to Officer Fiorini, now you need to explain to her carefully how to sabotage a lift.”

  “What do you mean, sabotage?”

  “What I mean is that I need it to stop just short of the second floor...”

  “That’s easy and safe to do, first of all you could stop it wherever you like by pressing the Stop button, then you need to unscrew the panel and cut a couple of wires.”

  “Which ones?”

  “The ones that supply power to the control panel.”

  “How can I tell which ones they are?”

  “It’s not difficult, they’re the two largest ones that lead upwards, they have codes...”, at that point in the conversation Germano intervened: “Ok ok, Fiorini, cut them all until everything cuts out.”

  “Ok, Inspector.”

  An idea began to form in the officer’s mind of what her inspector was trying to do. Once Fiorini had all the information, Germano and the real lift engineer walked towards the car occupied by Di Girolamo and Officer Pennino, who were at a complete loss as to what was happening.

  Both of them were “trained” as extremely credible lift engineers, ready to go into action as soon as their colleague became “stuck” in the lift.

  The real technician was allowed to leave as the inspector took his position back in his own car alongside Officer Fiorini.

  “Right...I’m off.”

  “Don’t worry, try to
do everything as we agreed, now go to the ground floor and call the lift. When you’re about to reach the second floor press Stop”.

  “And if there’s a problem...”

  “For example, if you happen to meet someone in the block who you wouldn’t like to meet?”

  “Well, yes...after all, we don’t even know what this Ricci looks like.”

  “Look, you don’t need to worry about that, I’ve been studying that son of a bitch for a long time now and he never strikes spontaneously, he’s someone who knows how to tame his demons when there’s the threat of prison in the air.”

  “That’s true.”

  “In any case, just stay calm and if by any chance there’s a problem, don’t panic, just come back to the car, or call me, I’ll be here, I’ve got nothing planned for this evening...”

  “Ok, I’m off.”

  Germano could not blame her for feeling nervous; she was young and involved in an operation that could turn out to be decisive in a murder case; her agitation was more than justified.

  Everything went smoothly; there was no one around at that hour in the block or surrounding area. Soon after pressing the Stop button Officer Fiorini went to work with the screwdriver; she tried to pull the control panel off and it came away fairly easily.

  The only problem was the number of wires connected to it.

  She remembered Germano’s words “Cut them all...”, and started with the first one.

  At the sixth attempt something happened: the lights inside the lift went out, the panel no longer responded to any commands, mission accomplished.

  Germano’s phone vibrated, it was now time for the other two to make their entrance; once Germano had confirmed this over the radio he dropped down into his seat slightly and waited.

  The two police officers waited ten minutes or so before going into action. They reached the second floor and discreetly checked through which door their man would be making his exit, or entrance.

  On the door immediately next to the lift they found what they were looking for.

  Very calmly, they opened their tool box and began to pull out tools on the pretence of repairing the lift.