“You're always nosy, Vincent ... she told me her latest news and ... but did you know that she even went out sometimes with a thirty-year-old boyfriend?”
“Your friend is forty if I'm not mistaken ...”
“Exactly.”
“What did she say about it?”
“Nothing, really. She only added that now they don’t go out together anymore. One evening she spoke to him about this age issue, the ten years’ age difference and how sometimes she felt embarrassed, almost ridiculous, to be seen going around with him. You know how it is ... people staring at you ... and in the end she pointed out that perhaps it would be better if they just remained good friends, and do you know how he responded?”
“What he could have said I don’t know, Arianna, but I imagine that he said goodbye, thanking her for the beautiful experience and then went his way.”
“How did you know? Have you spoken with Valentina recently?”
“No, I simply tried to put myself into the head and heart of that boy. Nobody believes the “good friends” story, Arianna ... if he had stayed he would have done so because he would have been basically convinced that he could have changed things, but some things never change ... it’s just that he figured that out right away.”
“Everything changes, but in the end everything stays the same ... right, Vincent?”
“Exactly, Arianna, or rather, there are some things that are invincible, against which you cannot win. At most, if you're clever, you can learn to ignore them, but to do this you have to be at least in two; if you’re alone you’ll never go anywhere ...”
“To hear you talk one would think you are a philosopher ...”
“No ... it’s just that eventually you learn to be philosophical about some things; many people live the lives of others only because they’ve never started to live their own lives.”
“Um ... you really seem to be an expert in certain things, Vincent!”
“Sorry ... but these are things that happen, Arianna ...”
“Why sorry? By any chance did it also happen to you to go out with a woman ten years older than you? Maybe before we got together ...”
“Um ... let’s make a nice coffee Arianna ... I need it.”
The two started to get up at about the same time when the voice of their son Luca, who until then had remained silent, made them turn sharply around.
“What is an illusionist, Dad?”
“Well ... you see, it’s a kind of magician, someone who tries to make it ...”
Seeing him in trouble, Arianna came to her husband’s aid.
“You see Luca, an illusionist is someone who has the power to make things disappear ... only to have them reappear as and when he wants.”
Arianna, after finishing that sentence, had to go and fill the coffee maker by herself, as the chief, in fact, was already running toward the phone.
“Hello.”
“Angelo it’s Vincent, are you still in the office?”
“Yes, but in a few minutes we’re taking off. I've already done everything you asked me and ...”
“One second, Angelo, do you remember that employee at the office of the Land Registry? That nice fellow who always seemed to want to joke ...”
“Yes...”
“Well, go to my desk and get my agenda, look for that guy’s cellphone, he should be called Peduto or something like that, and tell me right away.”
“One moment that ...”
“Angelo, is everything ok?”
“Yes Vincent, let’s just say that for a little bit I had the idea that I might be able to keep my job but ... now you’re back in action.”
“Calm down, it’s only curiosity and anyway ... I am taking full responsibility.”
“Stay on the line.”
It took a couple of minutes before inspector Parisi informed the chief how he could get in contact with the Land Registry clerk.
Germano lost no time and immediately dialed the number.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Peduto, I’m sorry ... it's almost one in the morning I know ... I'm chief Germano, of the Police.”
“Good evening, in any case it’s no trouble at all, I couldn’t sleep so ...”
“Better, look, I’m curious. Do you remember when I came to you to ask you about certain buildings?”
“Of course I remember.”
“Well, is there any chance that you could, tomorrow morning, of course, have a look at the Rocca file and see if in the past he’d asked for some authorization for some modification work at the villa?”
“Look chief ... I kept those files on my desk, I can’t explain why but I had the feeling that they would be needed ... therefore I'll just need a moment to let you know right away.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Peduto, a twist of fate you see, sometimes everything seems to get hopelessly complicated while at other times ...”
“It means you are in the right, chief ...”
“Excuse me?”
“I was saying ... usually the one who is in the right always finds an open road in front of him.”
“Everyone’s a philosopher tonight ... first with my wife, now you ... listen, since I don’t think this is the night to get a good sleep, is it possible ... I mean ...”
“Do you want to go now to review those files, chief?”
“Not only are you a philosopher, Peduto, but you’re telepathic as well.”
Once they’d reached their destination, the two didn’t take long to find what they were looking for. In 1990 Ferdinando Rocca asked for the intervention of the superintendent of artistic and cultural heritage, as digging so as to greatly extend his wine cellars, in fact, he came across remains dating back to Roman times or even Etruscan.
Inspector Parisi’s phone rang again.
“Hello.”
“It’s me, Angelo.”
“Any news Vincent?”
“Yes, listen closely, how many men do we have available right now?”
“Well, at this time of night ... maybe I can gather together six or seven.”
“That’s not enough. Listen, call the marshal of the Carabinieri, ask him if they can back us with as many men and as much equipment as they have available.”
“We’re going to involve them too, then?”
“Of course, on can’t go very far by oneself, Angelo ....”
“We’re in a poetry vein tonight ... eh, Vincent?”
“Never mind that, what time is it?”
“A quarter to two.”
“Well, let's set an appointment for three at the Rocca villa. Tell the marshal to advance from the north, while instead we’ll come in from the south. Tell him something else as well, to arrest anyone wandering about in the neighborhood, or to at least check them out very thoroughly.”
“Ok Vincent, I’ll also send him a copy of the arrest warrant for Andrea Grassetti, he’s the one we're after, right?”
“That's right, I'll see you at three at the place.”
Chapter 10
In the end, between the police and the carabinieri, Germano managed to put together a team of fifteen men. Although few of them knew the details of the operation, no one could help but smile to discover, upon opening a door that gave access to the villa’s cellars, a middle-aged man lying on a bed, surrounded by bottles of excellent wine, who was waiting for them with his hands already in the air.
The chief approached Andrea Grassetti, eyeing him from top to bottom. Once he was sure that he had no weapons, he also had a look around the vicinity; Germano could not hide his surprise at seeing, set aside in a corner and now a prey to moisture, dozens of pictures of very poor workmanship.
As he moved to get them he was stopped by the man who already was under his thumb.
“That's not your stuff, chief.”
“If that’s the case they are not yours either. I think the rightful owners are inspector Garcia in Buenos Aires and the Argentine anti-money laundering team. Obviously ... if I’ve said something
wrong, be sure to point it out to me ...”
Andrea Grassetti, however, didn’t say anything, he just took a look at the arrest warrant in his name and got arrested.
The document didn’t mention the double murder of course, but only to those offenses related to that anomalous transport of the corpse from the morgue and the fact that he tried to pass it off as that of Ferdinando Rocca. Grassetti was no fool, however. Germano’s statement about the Argentine police and what he read in the eyes of the chief were enough to make him understand how this was just the beginning of a long and painful judicial affair. This time, his sleight of hand was unsuccessful.
Germano got up the next morning in a good mood. He accompanied his children to school for their last day before the summer holidays, and then he went to the office.
His desk was again filled with papers, only routine things, that he took care of without much trouble.
Just before going to lunch, when it was already nine in the morning in Argentina, the chief decided that it was the right time to call Garcia.
“Hello.”
“Hello inspector, Vincent Germano here ...”
“Chief ...”
“I’m calling you because I have fresh news that you will certainly be interested in.”
“Tell me ... then you finally must have found out whether that partnership ended by agreement or not ...”
“Ha ha ... exactly, the works of art that Rocca bought for their weight in gold and that I have recovered, are already on their way to Argentina. They were probably used to launder dirty money, until one day Rocca himself tried to fool his trafficker friends, inspector Garcia ... only that his trick didn’t completely succeed; they found out about it and began to hunt him down.”
“Keep going, Chief, the story seems interesting ...”
“It then happened that poor Ferdinand, not knowing how to get out of his trouble, tried to stage his death, helped by his wife’s brother, a certain Andrea Grassetti whom we have already arrested. They tried to place the corpse of some poor nameless man, but one who resembled him quite a bit, in a coffin in the bedroom, and so were able to fool the coroner.”
“But he afterwards how ...?”
“Ferdinando Rocca spent the last months of his life living like a prisoner, locked in an old shack far enough away from the villa so that no one would notice him. In the meantime, things went ahead, his wife, Laura Grassetti, inherited all her husband assets and was preparing to sell them so that she could escape with him far away from everyone, especially from the traffickers.”
“Then what happened, Germano?”
“Then there was a little surprise. Laura's brother, that same Andrea Grassetti, greedy and a little too much in debt, stepped in and faked the suicide of his sister. Then he became the sole heir of all the assets.”
“Where did you find him?”
“He also was locked in, in one of the villa’s wine cellars. In my opinion, he would have waited a few weeks until the waters calmed down and then he would have taken off as well.”
“Excuse me, but Ferdinando Rocca, who was alive and well at the end, didn’t he notice anything?”
“Actually at one point he must have understood everything, or at least had strong doubts about the good faith of his brother-in-law, so much so as to write a note, put it into a plastic bottle and throw it into the stream, in the hope that someone would read it ... for him at that point there was nothing more to do, living locked up and officially dead ...”
“In fact he was nothing but a burden ...”
“Exactly, so much so that he was then killed by Grassetti who was seriously out of control. We suspect that he was drugged and then drowned off a dock in Fiumicino.”
“What a story, chief ...”
“You’re not kidding.”
“Now what will you do, Germano? I mean to say...”
“Well ... the summer has just begun ... and maybe tomorrow I’ll take my kids to the seaside, then who knows ... maybe I’ll wait for the next investigation.”
“Of course ... because I guess this story is now to be considered closed ...”
“You’re not wrong, Garcia. After all, from what I can tell, death is a natural and certain fact, but it never happens more than twice ...”
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