Hunted

by Monty Marsden

  “Do I have to change face again? And age?”

  “You’ll have to change.”

  “This is not the right place, then. We’ll only find some of the stuff that we need, here. We’ll have to go to a costume shop.”

  “You’re not going to have to play Puck or King Lear, Actor.”

  “Modern, contemporary theatre?”

  “Street theatre, let’s say. You don’t need the sort of make-up that makes you look different metres away from the stage… that sort would be too obvious from a short distance. You’re only going to change a few facial features, as much as necessary to make yourself a little different from the Riondino that they’re looking for. We look like Matteo Contri right now – we’ll have to be somebody else tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a plan…”

  “Go on, then. Take whatever you need. Let’s be quick, though. Don’t attract anyone’s attention and remember to speak with a strong Tuscan accent. Our documents say that we’re from Florence.”

  Half an hour later, Riondino was queuing up at the till – he waited there for a few minutes. He laid his stuff on the belt – tubes of cream, pencils, brushes, foundation, coloured contact lenses, gauzes and cotton, hair colouring… the woman at the till gave him a funny look.

  “I’m an actor,” the Actor said confidently, in a low tone of voice. “My face always changes according to my character, the tragedy that wears him down or the pleasure that lifts him up.”

  The young woman smiled at him, she was pretty. “Are you a screen actor? What films did you star in?” she asked while she scanned the products.

  “Screen actor? No, that’s too vulgar, young lady. No, I do theatre.”

  The Actor breathed in deeply and then he continued. “To be or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them: to die, to sleep. No more.”

  “That’s Hamlet!”

  “Yes, it is the famous monologue. The whole world knows it. Do you know what Prince Hamlet really means when he speaks those words?”

  “No…”

  “To be or not to be… to live or not to live… it’s a painful meditation on the meaning of life and the nobility of death. A reflection on how we prefer suffering to facing the unknown.”

  The customers behind Riondino were beginning to get impatient.

  “That’s interesting, sir… but…”

  “But there’s a queue – is that the total amount to pay?” the Actor asked as he pointed to the number that had appeared on the till. “Come and see me, I’ll be on stage at the Piccolo theatre.”

  Riondino left the supermarket. The rain had grown heavier. He opened his umbrella and walked away swiftly. “You’re an asshole!” Jack shouted. “Why the hell did you have to attract so much attention?”

  “Attention? I’m an actor, don’t ever forget it. The woman at the till was wondering why I had bought so many strange things, maybe she was suspicious. Now she doesn’t have a reason to think about it any more.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Actor – staff at the till aren’t policemen. There is no need to make any effort with them and now you’ve attracted people’s attention, do you understand that?”

  “I have all that I need now anyway, you’ll just have to tell me what you want to become.”

  “Let’s go away, we’ve been around people for way too long and there’s still something important to do before we go home.”

  Riondino found what he was looking for a few minutes later, on the other side of the road. He went inside the telephone box and dialled the telephone number that he had learnt off by heart.

  A few moments later, the person on the other end of the landline answered.

  “You know who I am, right?”

  The person on the other side remained silent.

  “I’m here… nearby. In your city, as planned. Are you happy?” His tone of voice was almost sarcastic.

  “You didn’t say that you would… do what you did.” The voice on the telephone was hesitant and a little fearful. “You killed people.”

  “I said that I would escape – I never mentioned how. Why is that a problem? What did you think? That they would keep the doors open for me to walk out?”

  Silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Please don’t chicken out, now. Everything is going according to plan. Are you worried about anything? Does anything bother you?”

  A sigh. “They have been around for some questions. It wasn’t pleasant, but everything went well.”

  “I was thinking that could happen, and it might happen again. The police won’t give up that easily. Just stay cool.”

  “I will.”

  “You’re going to have to, unless you want to spend the rest of your life in jail. You’re an accomplice to mass murder now.”

  “I said that I will.”

  “Okay. Is the phone safe? I want to make sure that I don’t run any risks before I use it.”

  “It’s not in my name like the number that you’re calling now. The same applies to the Internet account that you’re using, as we planned.”

  “Listen to me carefully; I’ll be hiding away for a little while. Then we’ll have something to do. I’ll be in touch when the time is right. Don’t try to contact me before then. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “Now give me that number.”

  “324. The postcode is 324.”

  “Milan?”

  “Of course, Milan.”

  Riondino hung up.

  *

  “What do you mean you’re done?” Sensi was losing his temper now.

  “I mean that I can’t do this any… more.” Claps’ voice trembled a little, but his tone was decisive. “It means that I did all that you asked me and I’m here to answer for my work… but I don’t want to be… involved in this… any more… from now on. I’m done with this case, or any other case in the future. Take it as a resignation.”

  “Why are you saying this?” Sense couldn’t believe his ears.

  “I’m still haunted by my… past.” Claps said, a little shyly. “It will kill me if I’m not careful.”

  Sensi remained silent, in shock, for a few seconds. “Fuck, Claps… I need your help. You can’t leave us like this.”

  “I’ve done all that I could… trust me… but I can’t any more now, I just can’t.”

  Sensi took off his glasses and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. He was struggling to accept Claps’ decision, but he knew where he was coming from. It wasn’t the first time that one of his colleagues gave up on him. It could be tough for anyone involved in that kind of investigation. Claps had had to deal with horrible stories for years, he had been under mental pressure to catch terrible murderers at any cost. He had been tied to the pain and the desperation of the victims. He had been close to death twice. And perhaps he had given all that he could; and now he was done.

  Sensi stared out of the window for a long time, the silence in the room was oppressive. Sensi inhaled deeply. “If that’s your choice, I have to accept it…”

  “It’s not my choice… it’s what I have to… do. I can’t do this any more, honestly. I have to stop.”

  Claps was beginning to struggle to breathe in Sensi’s office.

  He tried to speak again. “it’s always been like… the terrible stories that I would get to hear kind of… tied me to the murderers… like a rope round my neck that I couldn’t get rid of… the only way was to give peace to the victims, stopping the killers. I feel as if I have used all of my energy now… and that rope around my neck would kill me this time. I have to stop before it’s too late.”

  Claps stopped talking, he was pale and exhausted.

  Sensi tried to say something, without success.

  “I did what… you asked me to.” Claps said after a few seconds. “I spoke to the doctors who oversaw Riondino’s therapy.”
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  Claps spoke briefly, but concisely, of his interview with Professor Reti and Doctor Rinaldi. He avoided mentioning that he had gone with Greta and that she had become involved in the case. He explained in detail all of the personalities that Riondino had manifested in one way or another.

  Sensi listened to him in silence, closing his eyes at times. Sensi was also tired and despondent at Claps’ decision to give up on the investigation.

  When Claps finished talking, Sensi braced himself to ask his question. “Tell me, what’s your impression of the person that we’re looking for? All these personalities that you talked about… how do they influence his behaviour?”

  “Riondino’s behaviour is consistent, according to which personality shows up. It’s not like each personality… lives a separate life, unaware of the others. The leading personality, Jack, has always had control over the others. He’s kind of aware now that he’s merging with some of the other personalities… consequently, everybody else follows Jack’s lead in order to make decisions.”

  “So do I have to think about Riondino as a group of people who follow Jack’s orders?”

  “Something like that. With discipline and a specific objective… Yes, I’m convinced that Jack had a specific reason for escaping… it’s more than just wanting to be… free again.”

  “Yes, I would have to agree with you,” Sensi nodded. “We’re not dealing with a loony who doesn’t know what he’s doing – he thought about his escape for a long time before actually doing anything. What do you think he will be doing now?”

  “Jack is methodical and… meticulous. He must be hiding away somewhere safe, a place that he knew before he escaped – he’s probably going to stay there for a while, waiting for things to calm down.”

  “That doesn’t help me much to find him though…”

  “That’s true, but I can tell you this – sooner or later, Jack will have to leave space for the other personalities and those personalities will probably revert to some of their old habits.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just mean that in the past, each of Riondino’s personalities had a space where they were free to act, whether it was big or small. A time where they could be… themselves. Jack could see what they did and impose some limits but they were somewhat autonomous when they showed up. He couldn’t influence their actions. He was able to stop the personalities from showing up again later on, though, if he didn’t like what they were doing…”

  “This is ridiculous!” Sensi interrupted Claps.

  “You’re saying that he decided whether his personalities would or would not show up? Is he some kind of dictator?”

  “Look at it this way – have you ever been close to… perhaps even attracted to – the idea of doing something wrong, out of place… or even dangerous?”

  “It happens to everyone, doesn’t it?”

  “And yet you don’t do it… you refrain from it.”

  “Of course.”

  “Or if you do it, you regret it and you stop yourself from doing it again in the future.”

  “Yeah, that’s normal, it happens to everyone.”

  “It’s the same with Jack – just like you stop yourself from doing something wrong again, he will block out the personality that represents one of his behaviours. What is a thought, an instinct, for you, is an idea that belongs to a different personality for Riondino.”

  “Fuck,” was the best that Sensi could come up with.

  Claps waited a few moments to give Sensi some time to digest all that information. Then he carried on talking, knowing that Sensi was still paying close attention. “Seven years ago, we didn’t know about Riondino’s personalities… we were focused on the murders… and on Hannibal… but he must have had to give space to all of his personalities before he committed the murders. Even if they were minor personalities, they still had to be there somehow, even with little autonomy. It would be a good idea for you to do more research into Riondino’s life before everything happened. I would suggest that you try to identify all the activities and behaviours that were somewhat related to the Earl and the Professor…”

  “I’m not following… why those two in particular?”

  “They’re some of the simplest personalities, they’re more focused on their instincts than on a general… overview. It’s likely that those personalities will reflect some of his old habits. The Earl is a ladies man, he likes gambling and sports cars – how did he act up to seven years ago? Where were the places he frequented? And what about the Professor? Did he go to any libraries, book shops… anywhere else?” Claps paused for a moment. “You’ll have to dig into Riondino’s life before he got himself in trouble and you’ll find places where he could still be hanging out right now.”

  Sensi paused for a long time, reflecting on Claps’ words, then he raised his eyes to him. “What about Hannibal? Do you think that he’ll also go back to his old habits?”

  Claps felt his stomach tie up in a knot. “I think… so,” he struggled to reply. “But it’s not my business any more,” he concluded.

  14

  The police department had received four different reports of people supposedly seeing Riondino within twenty-four hours and Sensi was certain that more would follow in the near future. All of the sightings seemed very unlikely, but they had to be scrutinised one by one. That was what Maiezza was doing – analysing the last report of a sighting, which was also one of the most unusual ones.

  “Follow me, please.” One of the local police officers led Maiezza to an office. A woman of about seventy was sitting in the room – her eyes were penetrating, her hair partially dyed purple, but mostly white and tied in a knot.

  “Are you Mrs Fumagalli?” Maiezza asked gently.

  “Rosa Fumagalli, I’m a widow and I was born in 1939,” the old woman stated clearly.

  “Thanks for being here with us.” Maiezza sat at the desk in front of her – he was doing his best to speak as gently and kindly as possible. “Would you like to tell me what you already told my colleagues?”

  “Yes, well, I saw a dead man, one of those from Florence.”

  “What do you mean exactly?”

  “I saw him alive, here in Milan. It was him.”

  Maiezza remained silent in order to give her more time to explain herself.

  “I was watching a talk show on TV last night – I always watch talk shows late at night, you know, old people don’t sleep that much… They were talking about that dangerous, crazy man who escaped from the rehabilitation centre… Mr Riondino. They were saying that he killed a lot of people. They showed photos of the victims from Florence – they were on the screen for a long time and I’m sure that I saw one of the victims in Milan. Matteo Contri.”

  “Okay, so let’s think about this carefully… perhaps it was somebody who looked a lot like him. How can somebody who died in Florence days ago be alive in Milan?”

  “I’m asking you the same question. Listen, I looked him in the face and I heard him speak. He had a Florentine accent. It was him, he had the same quirky quiff and the same red framed glasses as in the photograph.”

  “Okay, alright… would you like to tell me more about this encounter?”

  “I was shopping at the supermarket, there was a long queue at the till and the staff were doing their best to be as quick as possible. I never fill up my trolley with a lot of stuff; I’m alone and my pension is what it is. I didn’t have a lot of stuff in my trolley but the woman at the till didn’t wait for me to put what I had bought in my bags after I paid for it. She moved on to the next customer straight away and she let his stuff slide down next to mine. So while I was hurrying to put my things in my bags, I saw the man who was queuing up behind me and I heard him speak. He spoke with a thick accent and I’m certain that it was Matteo Contri.”

  “You said that you heard him speak – what did he say?”

  “I didn’t pay much attention but I was struck by his accent… I thought that he was trying to flirt wi
th the young lady, he was talking about the theatre.”

  “Is that everything?”

  “We walked out of the supermarket at the same time. He walked a lot faster than me, but I saw that he just walked away from the supermarket without heading to the car park lot to pick up his car.”

  “That’s very helpful, thank you very much for this information,” Maiezza said kindly.

  “Don’t you want to know what I think about this, mister?” she asked.

  Maiezza smiled and sighed at the same time. “Of course I do.”

  “You know, I’m not that old and senile to not know that somebody who died in Florence cannot go around shopping in Milan a few days later… As I said, I don’t sleep that much any more and I spend a lot of time reading. I like thrillers, spy stories and murder mystery stories. I read Le Carré… and if the man that I saw was indeed the man that you’re looking for, had he taken the identity of the poor man that he killed? That’s why I decided to come and talk to the police.”

  Maiezza supressed another sigh. “Mrs Fumagalli, I’m sure that you would be an excellent detective, but please leave this work to us. As I was saying before, your help has been immensely appreciated and we still have a favour to ask. Would you mind going with me to visit the lady at the till who spoke to that man? Do you remember who it was?”

  *

  Greta’s mobile phone had rung mid morning. She was surprised to see that Montanari had called her – he was the man who commissioned work for her back in the days when she was a TV star. During the months following the unfortunate ‘Morphy’ events, when she quit her career and cut ties with the world of television journalism, he had tried to get in touch with her twice and she had always failed to respond. This time, after some hesitation, she decided to answer the call. She was intrigued to know what Montanari had to tell her and accepted his lunch invitation. He had said that he had something important to tell her.

  Greta met her ex-manager in a high class restaurant in town.