Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch

by Stefano Pastor

  I went back to the original idea, to hide it with a picture frame. Maybe it would also limit the smell. I had a few paintings, I took one from the entrance area. A crap piece that I had no desire to see when waking. But it was a temporary arrangement, then I would try a mason.

  I had some nails, and even a hammer. What else was needed? At least I knew what to do. It was night, but what did I care if it disturbed the neighbors? They complained always.

  After the first shot I saw I screwed up, but like an idiot I went on. I was not entirely lucid, I admit, too little sleep. At the second hit the brick crumbled and the gap became a chasm. How the hell had they built that house, from chalk?

  I did not have time to brainstorm because the stench clouded me. Damn, I’d uncovered an entire cemetery. There had been a massacre of mice.

  I pulled the handle of the hammer, now it passed comfortably. The wall sank completely. How was that possible? What was on the other side? The place next door? And they had not noticed anything?

  I tried a flashlight because I wanted to look down into the wall, now sleep was impossible. Luckily I had not thrown it away and the battery still worked. I inched my nose closer, the stench was insane. What a mess I had made!

  At first I wasn’t sure what I saw within. I moved the flashlight. I recognized those drawings, although they had lost color. It was wallpaper. My wallpaper. There fifteen years or more since I’d seen it. How much I hated that wallpaper!

  I tried to think, but it was not easy. Why was it there still? Actually no, what had happened? My memory wasn’t working very well. We had taken it off, of course. We repainted the room. The whole house. When had it happened? We had not moved for long, a year or two at most. There was still Guido. Perhaps he had done it himself.

  Because there it was still back there. What was the point of putting up a wall if there was already one? Knowing his type, he’d be capable of doing it. He got into some trouble, he was not able to repair, better to hide it. What a big job, however, to build a new wall. What the hell prevented me from finding out about it?

  That was not the problem, in the space rats had made nests. They were dead, perhaps generations. He turned my house into a sewer. Asshole.

  I checked again. Yes, no doubt, the two walls were separated. There was a vacuum in between. How wide I could not determine, the hole was too small.

  What was I to do? Plug the hole and just forget about it? Find out what was behind it at the risk of having to then renovate the entire room? Absolutely not!

  But why would he do this?

  Is it possible that I had not noticed? The room was smaller, and I had not noticed? Maybe at that time I had other things to think about. Reduced by how much?

  I counted the tiles, exactly twenty centimeters by side, in the past I already checked. Nineteen. Three meters and eighty centimeters. How many should have been there instead? I went into the corridor, but the tiles there were different sizes. I picked up a tape measure and measured it twice, to be sure. Four meters and twenty, maybe more. The gap must be forty centimeters wide.

  It was absurd. Why so much? What had he been trying to hide? Had he destroyed the floor, perhaps? Would not it have been more logical to put a piece of furniture on it, then?

  What a night I was going through! At another time I would have postponed any decision until morning, and maybe after that I’d have even forgotten, but there was the smell that gave me no peace. Whatever was there needed to be eliminated, because in that house could no longer live this way.

  Eliminated immediately.

  No, I did not mean to tear down a wall at night, I was not so crazy, but at least enlarge the hole enough to understand what was behind it. From Good Housekeeping laid a towel on the ground to collect the debris. I had no intention of soiling the place even more. I gave up and chose a chisel, knowing I wouldn’t have made less noise with anything else.

  I tried, at least.

  It was a shitty wall, there was little more to say. Moreover, Guido was a shitty man who could not do anything. The wall was just five centimeters, including plaster. The bricks seemed recycled, he had also saved on the concrete. It was a miracle that it had not collapsed before. Without much difficulty I was able to remove a brick, and then another. I could slip a hand in, but I looked carefully before doing so and went to get a kitchen glove. I had no intention of getting the plague.

  Unlike what happened in the movies I found cobwebs. My arm sank in to touch the other wall. Maybe even more than forty centimeters. The paper was raised in many places as the glue did not hold anymore. I reached, trying to figure out what was behind it. I met an obstacle, reaching the space’s limit. Yes, there was something. He had something hidden.

  But I could not reach it.

  I resumed my work, trying to make as little noise as possible. I hoped that the neighbors were heavy sleepers. I took a couple of bricks, but the work progressed slowly. I needed a bigger hole to be able to stick my head in.

  When I thought I had succeeded I borrowed a hair band and cyclist goggles Tamara had left there, and I tried exploring.

  I could not see anything. The hole was too small. I needed more space, even to use the flashlight. Now the night was ruined, I might as well continue.

  It took another half an hour before I was satisfied. I slipped in the flashlight, then my head.

  It was nicely lit now. I saw him just fine.

  I screamed. A single cry, thankfully held in that closed space. Then my brain started to work.

  There was a corpse.

  Obviously there was the smell of the cemetery, I was in a cemetery. My house was a cemetery.

  There was a walled corpse in my room. That was the point: the room was mine. My home. Whoever it was, Guido must have put it there, but he had been gone for so long. Who knows what he did, maybe he was already dead. How would I convince the police that I did not know anything?

  Who the hell was that? He had he been killed?

  It was not really a surprise to me. I had always thought that sooner or later Guido would come to that. To kill, to become a murder. Of course if it was a natural death he would have had no reason to hide it.

  I had to force myself and look again. This time I covered my nose with a tissue, I wouldn’t risk it for something other than dead rats!

  He was mummified. In that narrow place he had not decayed. At least I was spared the worms. Not much was left, however. The skull was covered by skin, almost like leather. He was unrecognizable, but most probably a male.

  He was standing, strange thing. He must have been tied up when he was put there. I hoped he was not still alive when he was bricked in, that he did not gag. He was dressed, though his clothes were in tatters. Perhaps I would find something to identify him, when I pulled him out.

  What was I saying? Take him out?

  Why had I thought such nonsense?

  Certainly there he could not remain. Or yes, I could repair the wall, pretending he did not exist. No, I would never be able to sleep in that room, not with a corpse. Go away, find another home? And leave it there, with the risk that someone else found him? It was not feasible, I’d be in trouble.

  They’d blame me. I couldn’t get away with it, I didn’t have a lot of confidence in the police. They just found any possible culprit. And who the hell was that corpse? Who had Guido taken? And why?

  There was no choice but to leave. This time it was my turn to disappear.

  It was nonsense. Take it away, remove the wall, repaint the environment. Remove any trace.

  And the corpse? First I had to find out who it was, to be sure that he got what was due to him. A big job, I was not sure to succeed. It was my life now, though.

  Cursed Guido, even after fifteen years he continued to destroy my life. Would I ever have a bit of peace.

  Now that the damage was done I could not stop, the air was unbreathable, I was suffocating. Strange that smell still emanated, given its state of conservation. I had to take it away, before anyone was
awake. With the car, even if though it had been months since I’d used it. If some tow truck and had not taken it away. But I would have to think about that later, there was a more urgent task.

  I did not need to demolish the entire wall, but I needed an opening a large enough to be able to pull him through. I had to bite the bullet and do it, whatever the cost.

  It took almost an hour to reach him, and another to bring him into the light. It was just awful, I really had uncovered a tomb.

  He was chained to the wall with nails hammered deep to restrain him, it would not be easy to free him. There was also the risk that he would be in ruins and that would be a problem. I could not even rummage among those pieces of clothing to determine it.

  And yet there was something familiar. Not the corpse, the dead are all equal. Perhaps the clothes. Or something else.

  I was looking at Guido. No rings or bracelets, not even a watch. Empty pockets. Indeed, there was never enough money. The dress was not anything special, cheesy stuff. A striped shirt, now of indefinable color, like the ones I bought for him.

  The understanding came suddenly. I looked again at the grinning skull. Yes, I recognized him, an asshole even in death.

  «Guido?», I asked.

  Nothing. Was it Guido? That corpse was my past? Was he gone? He had never left me?

  I did not shed tears, indeed I breathed a sigh of relief. Years of waiting in fear that he would return, ready to jump at the slightest noise. Knowing that he could not ever return again filled me with peace. The first real moment of peace in over twenty years.

  «You’re dead», I concluded.

  Yes, Guido had died. He had not built any wall. It was his murderer. He had hidden the murder. And he had done it there, where he had killed, in my home.

  My position was shot. If the victim was Guido nobody would have believed that I had not killed him. I had every reason to do so.

  «OMG!».

  His murderer!

  The puzzle was again at its end. But I would have much preferred it had not happened. His murderer!

  There was little to think about, I did not need to look for him, I knew who it was. Maybe I had always known.

  «Oh, Diego».

  How could I condemn him? My son had done it for me. He knew that sooner or later Guido would kill me. And he had acted first, even though it was his father.

  «Oh, Diego», I repeated.

  Of course he had escaped, later, how he could continue to live there next to the body of the man he had killed?

  Cursed Guido, he had deprived me of my son. I was blind, I did not understand. I had judged.

  There was no need to have any respect. «Asshole!», I cried and hit the skull with a punch. Luckily he did not go to pieces.

  He had to disappear. Disappear forever, never to be found. More than ever it was imperative that no traces remain. Accuse me or my child, in any case it should not have happened. Diego had gone away, but the police would be able to find him. I could not destroy his life, rather I would have confessed myself.

  I tried a wide canvas, capable of holding the body, then I busied myself to detach him from the wall. Even with a larger hammer it was an immense effort, the nails were resistant. I released the first chain, but there were three more. Diego had been thorough.

  The last one was not necessary remove. The body collapsed into my arms while still attached to the wall. This was nothing new, he was always on me, just like a ram. Even death hadn’t changed him.

  I was forced to break the fall, not to make too much noise. With a snap a femur broke. I kept pulling, it was not necessary to bury him in one piece. With more crunches the body broke away entirely from the wall.

  I pulled him onto the tarp, but didn’t wrap him yet. I tried to figure out how he died. It was not hard to imagine, in the skull there was a nice round hole. Too big for a bullet. Something pointy. A hammer, maybe.

  Yes, they had quarreled. Maybe for what he had done to me. They had come to blows. Maybe Diego had just defended himself. He had done well, in any case, Guido deserved worse.

  How I hated him, even now that he was dead. He had destroyed my life, he had also destroyed his children. I should have killed him, not Diego.

  Then I wrapped up the tarp, because I was tired of looking at him. It did not matter if I left some clues to recognize him if I made sure he was never found. I was already working on a plan.

  I retrieved a rope and tied the cloth well. He continued to look like a corpse but I could not do better.

  I looked forward, for the first time. Four in the morning. Very well, at that time hardly anyone would see me, I would be able to take him away unnoticed. I had to retrieve the car, take it to the door.

  I tried the keys, but just before I had sudden doubt. There was nothing else? Maybe I had forgotten something. A suitcase, the murder weapon. Sure I could get rid of it later, but it would be better to get rid of it all at once.

  So I went back, I took the flashlight and checked the gap again. Nothing left, just dust. Then to the right…

  No, it was impossible.

  Instead there was another. A couple of meters away, near the corner. Identical.

  Another corpse.

  Two dead? This one seemed somewhat better preserved, the smell was probably from him. The clothes were almost intact. Pure hair. Blond, almost white. Long, to its shoulders.

  A lover? Guido had a mistress? Diego had caught them together? He killed both of them?

  No, she was not a woman, those were pants. And the plaid shirt… I bought it myself, I could not fail to recognize it.

  I dropped the torch and collapsed to my knees. No, it could not be possible. I did not want to believe it.

  I was crying, it seemed centuries that I kept going. An eternity.

  «Oh Diego!», finally escaped me. «My God, Diego».

  3

  I remained in that position for an eternity.

  Some surprises can annihilate, pulverize any security, deprive you of all strength.

  No, Diego had not killed his father. He was not running away. He had stayed in the house with me. Forever.

  No, it was not possible. Diego had disappeared two years after Guido. They could not be together, it was impossible.

  Nothing made sense. Had Guido returned while I was gone? Had they killed each other? So who had walled them there?

  Nothing made sense. The wall was already there. I saw the wallpaper. It had been erected shortly before Guido went away. So how did my son get there?

  It was not important. Only one thing mattered. Diego was a boy, he was only sixteen years old, had his whole life ahead. And someone had killed him. Certainly he was not chained alone in there.

  Someone… who? Tamara?

  Perhaps she even hated him, but she at that time was just a little girl, not yet thirteen. Is this what ruined her life, had made her begin to take drugs? She knew that for years I had slept beside the dead body of my son?

  I didn’t want to believe it. Alone she couldn’t have succeeded. Had she gotten help from someone? But if she had not, who else could be angry with Diego? Maybe they really killed each other and she had hidden everything. Maybe she had done it for me.

  That too was not right, I had to think. How could I get rid of the bodies now that there were two?

  And why should I get rid of the corpse of my son, instead of giving him a proper burial? Was I going crazy?

  There was also Guido. I could not make only one disappear. Someone would find out. I had gone too far, I could not go back. If I had called the police they would have asked me why Guido’s corpse was tied up like a sausage. Putting it back in place was impossible.

  They would never have thought that I had killed my son! Hours and hours of questioning, and what could I say? That it was Tamara? I didn’t, not for certain. She would have collapsed, in her state it would be too easy to frame her. No, now I had to continue.

  He was beautiful, Diego, could not be transformed into that rotten mummy
. I did not want to believe it. Maybe I was wrong. Soon I’d find out.

  I resumed with the chisel. It would be more useful to use a club, but more than ever I had to avoid making noise. There was the risk of not being able to make it in time, and then what would happen? I should stay at home with two dead bodies for a whole day? In that case I would be really mad.

  The wall was unstable, it was easier to open another hole. Within an hour I reached Diego. It was him, all doubt was dispelled, even in death I could recognize him. He would remain a boy forever.

  He had a violent end, his skull was fractured in several places, whole clumps of hair were missing. Someone had repeatedly beaten him to death. I embraced him, even though he was a corpse, not even death could defeat my love.

  How could this have happened? Why such cruelty? Who hated him so much? Diego was larger, muscular, a sportsman. Tamara too fragile, a little girl, would never be able to get the better of him. Even if she hated him, she would have had to find another way to get rid of him. Had they killed each other then, Diego and his father?

  I was losing time, it would soon be dawn and I still had much work to do. I had no more large towels, I retrieved a pair of medium-size and attached them together with tape. I had almost used up all the rope too, I had to make do.

  It was more elaborate, pulling Diego out, because I did not want to hurt him. I tried to be gentle, even in death. Then lying on the ground, I wanted to kiss him but I could not. The smell that emanated was too pungent. It was terrible to wrap him in the cloth, leave him forever. I would never forget that face.

  I dragged the dead bodies into the hall, one after the other. I had too much adrenaline rush to feel tired, I was willing to go all the way. I took the keys and went looking for the machine.

  I couldn’t remember where I parked, it had been too long. No lift was a nightmare bringing them down, although they had become much lighter in death.

  The car was in a bar nearby. Under the wiper I had already racked up two tickets. I threw them away. The old car did not start the first time and this gave me the opportunity to vent. Never had I cursed so much.