by Jeff Carson
“Well, I don’t think he did,” he said. “Do you do drugs Cristina? Did you and John do drugs together? Just tell me, I don’t care either way. I just need to know.”
“No,” she said quickly. “We don’t do drugs … didn’t do drugs. Not even pot. We talked about how it made us both paranoid, so that’s why we didn’t like it. Why are you asking?”
He studied her reaction, her eyes. He believed her. A woman trying to hide her drug use was something he was intimately familiar with, something he’d learned to read on a woman’s face just as plainly as a track in fresh mud.
“Because there was cocaine found on the table in the living room, and in his nose.”
She looked genuinely surprised. “I never knew him to take drugs. He and I never did. We would drink wine, and he would maybe have a cigarette with me every once and a while … but that’s it.”
“Do you know anything about the night he died? That Friday night? What was he doing? Who was he with?”
“He was supposed to go out with a friend,” she said. “His astronomer friend, who works at an observatory.”
“What’s his name?”
“Matthew. Matthew Rosenwald.”
“Okay,” Wolf said leaning forward, feeling a jolt of energy. “Where is that observatory? What’s it called?”
“It’s in a town just south of here. In Merate. It’s just called the Merate Observatory, I think, or the Osservatorio di Merate I guess it would be named in Italian.”
“Do you have Matthew’s phone number?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“Have you heard from him at all?”
“No.”
“Okay. How about what he was doing with Matthew that night, do you know that? Did he tell you about it?”
“He said they were just going out for a few drinks. They usually went out about once a week together. Matthew’s from Australia, and they met through a friend of mine. They kind of hit it off because they could speak English together, and they both like to drink beer.” She laughed.
He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “Do you know this bar?”
She looked at the receipt for The Albastru Pub. “Yes. It is actually a Romanian bar.”
“Have you been there?”
“Once with John,” she sucked in a breath, “and actually David was there too.”
Wolf’s thoughts were burning through the fog of jet lag, excited to have a good direction to take the next day.
He put the receipt back in his pocket. “The Caribinieri said you heard something downstairs that Friday night?”
“I did. I heard a crash and went downstairs and knocked on his door. But it was dark underneath his door, and it was locked. I just started to think I probably heard something else, outside, or from across the hall, or something. I just went back upstairs and went to sleep.” She seemed to be staring back in time, shaking her head at the horrific thought.
“When was that?” Wolf asked gently.
“It was 1:15 in the morning. I remember looking at the clock when I heard the crash.”
“There’s nothing you could have done,” he whispered.
She nodded her head, staring at her hands again.
“So you talked to the Caribinieri the next day?”
“Ummm … no. I talked to them on Sunday. When he didn’t call me, or respond to my texts, or answer his door all day Saturday, I started getting worried.”
“Oh, yeah, okay. Sunday.” He rubbed his temples. His mind was struggling to keep details straight. His body demanded sleep. “What did you tell the Carabinieri?”
She looked to the ceiling. “Not that much. One guy was just asking if I saw or heard anything that night. I just told him what I heard, and how I came down and knocked. I told them how he didn’t answer my calls, or my knocking, and how he stood me up for our date, and that’s why I was concerned. Then … well, that was pretty much it. A couple of officers were just waiting outside my door. They said they had a special counselor coming for me to talk to. I didn’t want to wait around to speak to some government worker who doesn’t know me, or didn’t know John. I just walked out.”
“Yeah, I understand. I don’t blame you,” he said. “Did they ask about drugs?”
She looked confused. “No, not at all. I didn’t know about the drugs until just now.”
A warm blanket of exhaustion wrapped around Wolf again. He’d had enough. His body needed rest. There was no use fighting it any more.
“Are you going to be around in the next couple days?”
“I have to work during the daytimes, but I am usually home at night.”
“All right. I may need some help with some things for the next couple days, and maybe this weekend.” He thought once again about the Friday deadline Marino had given for Lia’s help.
“Let me know. I’ll be glad to help.”
“Thanks.”
He let himself out and went back down the marble stairs to his brother’s silent apartment, trying not to think about the ghost of his brother as he did.
Chapter 17
Wolf picked up his backpack and went into his brother’s room. He put his bag down and exhaled. Pulling the comforter back, he was surprised to see there were no sheets on the bed. He found a set of sheets on a shelf in the bathroom closet, but there were no pillowcases.
Looking in John’s bedroom closet bore no fruit. Wolf stood, shaking his head and marveling at the anal retentive organization. The assortment of clothing was meticulously separated into dark and light segments, coats in a separate segment still. John had set out six pairs of shoes in a straight line along the closet wall floor, ordered from darkest to lightest. Only you, John, Wolf thought. A cheap, hanging plastic rack housed belts and ties along the right side, and a robe hung from a hook on the other side.
As he spread out the clean bottom sheet, Wolf stopped with a jolt. He went back to the closet and pulled the clothes over to get an unobstructed view of the belt and tie rack.
There were four belts, a missing space, and then four ties. A perfect spot to put the belt John was wearing the night he died. So where did the belt he hung himself with hang?
Chapter 18
Wolf had been up for four hours when Lia picked him up at 8 a.m. Despite his exhaustion the night before, his jet-lagged body rebelled against sleep in the early morning hours.
They met outside the apartment building gate, and headed into the piazza, where Lia said she had parked.
She shot a couple appraising glances at Wolf as they walked. “You look better this morning.”
He had shaved, showered, shampooed the grease mat that was his thick dark brown hair, and put on some fresh clothes. He felt better. Wolf looked at her and smiled. “Thanks.”
He’d always been confident in his good looks. The saying, or whatever it was, tall, dark, and handsome applied to him. He was six-foot-three, taller than most men he came into contact with, had spiky dark brown hair, a complexion that tanned if the light bulbs were too bright, dark walnut eyes, thick eyebrows, and a mole on his upper right cheek that women in his life had often referred to as a “beauty mark” … not that he considered himself a heart throb, but he wasn’t an idiot either.
He stole a glance at Lia. She was walking fast with her chin up, chest out, and slender athletic body bouncing lightly on her feet. She wore the same tight ponytail, swaying underneath the back of her Caribinieri cap. She looked the same as she ever had to Wolf.
“You look nice this morning too,” he said, meaning to sound nonchalant. It was impossible to do so with such an understatement. He caught a whiff of her lavender scent and cleared his throat, snapping to his senses. “I talked to John’s girlfriend last night; she was home.”
“And?”
“She had the name of the guy he was with the night before. I’d like to go talk to him, his name is Matthew Rosenwald, and he works at the Merate Observatory. Do you know where that is?”
“Ye
s, I do. I’ve been there a few times. For high school … I was in Liceo Scientifico.”
“What does that mean?”
“In Italy, you choose your vocation early in life, and go to school for it. Or, you choose the … how would you call it … the track.”
“The major? Like in college?”
“Well,” she said. “It’s much earlier. It starts in high school. But, I guess it is kind of like a major for college. Anyway, I was Scientifico. We studied natural sciences and I went there a couple times for astronomy.”
“Great,” he said. “But we also have to go back to the morgue. And I want to do that first.”
She gave him a puzzled look as they climbed in the Alfa Romeo cruiser. “Why?”
“I have to see the belt he hung himself with again.”
He explained what he saw in the closet the night before.
“Okay,” Lia said. “Definitely sounds interesting. Do you want to get a coffee before we go over?”
“Yes. I’ve been thinking about coffee since I woke up four hours ago.”
They pulled up to a bustling “Bar,” as it was called on the sign, and Wolf followed Lia inside. A herd of people were standing up against a long elbow-height counter, packed three people deep, barking fast orders to the two men behind the counter. Lia expertly wove her way to the front of the crowd and made eye contact with one of the baristas.
“What do you want?” Lia yelled back at Wolf.
“Just a … I’ll have what you are having.”
She whipped her head to the barista. “Due caffe’ e due brioche marmallatta.”
A few seconds later a thimble of coffee and jam-filled croissant was pushed in front of him. He took a large bite of the croissant and a small sip of the coffee.
“Bouna?” She nodded at Wolf.
“Uh, si.”
He felt the glares of people waiting behind him for the counter top real estate they occupied at the moment. He shoved the rest of the croissant in his mouth and downed the coffee with two hearty sips. She followed his actions, slapped down her cup, went to the unoccupied cash register, laid down some coins and threaded her way out the door. He followed her out, wondering what the hell just happened.
“Good lord. Felt like my first time all over again,” he mumbled to himself.
“What?”
“Nothing, never mind.”
They continued walking for another few seconds.
She turned with squinted eyes. “Are you saying that was like your first time having sex?”
“What? Uh, yeah,” he said. “That’s what I was saying.”
She looked down and resumed walking. “So, your first time was that crowded? I don’t understand.”
“No, more like standing, uncomfortable, and over before I knew what happened.” He looked into the distance at nothing in particular. “Never mind. I regret saying what I said.”
She burst into a high-pitched natural laugh that magnified his caffeine buzz.
…
Lia drove at speed through the tight streets and swirling traffic circles, keeping both hands on the wheel when she wasn’t expertly shifting.
“So, how the heck do you speak such perfect English?” Wolf asked, trying once again to sound nonchalant as she swerved into the oncoming traffic lane and blew past a long truck.
She laughed. “My mother is from New York. She spoke only English to me and my brothers when we were kids. It just comes second nature to me. And I went for two years of college in North Carolina … Wake Forest.”
“Aha. Okay, that explains it.”
“And you and Valerio?” He braced himself as she dove full speed into another traffic circle. “You seem like close friends on the force.”
“Yes. Valerio is kind of like a brother to me. Our families have always been close. I have three older brothers, and he has a brother, and they were all friends growing up.”
“Wow. Three brothers? Older brothers?” She nodded to Wolf. “That must have been rough.”
“You could say that,” she said with a smirk. Then her expression turned serious. “I had to fight for independence from my brothers. Two of them were overly protective of me. I hated it. I didn’t need the protection.”
She paused, glanced to the right, and then cranked the wheel left. This threw Wolf into a spastic look to his left, before realizing she was using another convex mirror.
She looked at him and laughed softly. “I fought and gained the respect I deserved from my brothers.”
They rode in silence for a minute.
“So, you feel this job … the colonnello … you aren’t getting the respect you deserve, or the chances you deserve?”
She glared out the windshield. “Yeah. Something like that. Valerio was a friend of the family. He grew up with us. He knows I can handle myself. He knows I’m better than what they think. And I know it’s also a matter of paying your dues. But the dues are much more expensive for a woman in Italy.”
Wolf nodded and looked out the window as they drove along the lakeshore. Waves glistened in the sun like crystals.
“What do your brothers do? They cops too?”
“Ehh,” she exhaled, “let’s see, one is a lawyer in Roma, one is a Carabiniere in Bergamo, and one is Guardia di Finanza.”
“What’s Guardia di Fananza? Finance guards?”
“Yes. They are part of the military, kind of like the Carabinieri. They patrol the territorial waters of Italy. Working against smuggling, illegal immigration, that type of thing. Among a lot of other duties.”
“Okay.”
“Luca,” she said with a fond smile.
“What’s that?”
“Sorry. Luca is my brother in the Guardia. I am most close to him.” She suddenly blushed and looked at Wolf, a tinge of obvious regret in her eyes, as if she just realized she was flaunting a toy he didn’t have.
She was, but she didn’t mean anything by it. They drove on in silence.
Chapter 19
Wolf and Lia were buzzed into the morgue, this time by a female voice. He met the morning pathologist on duty, Bianca. Lia explained the situation, and Bianca left briefly, returning with the bag from the night before.
Wolf brought the bag into the room where his brother lay, and set it down on the steel table. Lia followed close behind, intrigued. He removed both belts and laid them side-by-side on the table. The brown belt that was found around John’s neck was noticeably longer. The holes still lined up, but the wear marks were at least five inches apart.
“This brown belt isn’t John’s. It’s from someone with a waist band that is at least five inches bigger.”
“Yeah, but couldn’t the belt have stretched from him hanging on it?”
Wolf looked close at the belt. “It’s not stretched at all,” he said. “There’s a thread pattern on the edges, those would be broken with significant stretching. There’s not one broken thread.”
“Okay, so what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that my brother was found on the floor of his apartment. Not hanging from the ceiling. The chandelier couldn’t hold his weight, there was irrefutable evidence of that. So you tell me which is more likely.
“One, he borrowed someone else’s belt, or stole it for the purpose of hanging himself, did some cocaine, then hung himself with the belt. He hangs there until he is almost dead, kicks the chair out with a convulsion, which sets off a slow drop of the chandelier. But a perfectly timed drop, mind you, because the hanging has to kill him. Otherwise he would have just gotten up later with a bad bruise on his head. So, the chandelier stays hanging, just until he dies, then it falls within time to still bruise him after death. Because, like the pathologist said last night, bruising can occur for only a short period of time after death.
“Or, scenario two, someone strangles him with the belt, probably in a fit of rage. In an effort to cover it up, he strings him, or rather, they string him, to the chandelier.”
“They?�
�� Lia asked.
“There’s no way one man could hold a man’s dead weight up and string the belt on the chandelier at the same time. It had to have been two people. So, they are trying to cover up the murder with a hanging. They string him up, and all goes wrong when the chandelier won’t hold him. He drops, the chandelier drops. It makes a loud noise, and they freak out. They lock the door and turn out the lights. Cristina said she went downstairs and saw the lights were off underneath the door. John wouldn’t have hanged himself in the dark. That wouldn’t have made sense.” Wolf saw everything lining up in front of him. “And the door was locked from the inside, keys still in the top lock. So whoever killed my brother had to have been still in there. They probably freaked out after the loud crash … probably didn’t want to go out the front door in case the neighbors came knocking to see what happened. So they turned off the lights and sat quiet. Then they heard the knock at the door. They knew they had to leave some other way, like out John’s balcony along the rooftop next door. They couldn’t have left out the front door, because like you guys said, the door was locked, and his keys were pushed out of the door by the manager when you guys went in.”
Lia was staring at him with raised eyebrows.
He caught her expression and stopped talking.
She looked down at the floor, then back up at Wolf. “I think that there was another man’s belt found around his neck.” Her voice was soft and controlled. “I believe that.”
“Good,” Wolf said. “And how do you explain it? How does he have a heavier man’s belt around his neck?”
She looked at him. “I don’t know.”
Wolf stared wide-eyed at the floor, envisioning the night with perfect clarity. Doubt stabbed his line of thought, and it began to waver, and swirl apart. “We need to go talk to an astronomer.” He walked out of the room.
…
Lia kept silent for the twenty-minute journey south, allowing Wolf to shuffle the thoughts in his brain.
