A Florentine Death (31 page)

The TV news broadcasts that evening devoted a lot of space to the item, but Ferrara did not watch them.

He heard about the murders the following morning, from the radio. Everything about the case - the unusual circumstances, the youth and beauty of the victims, certain unpleasant details concealed by the police but partly revealed by the journalists in vague allusions that played on the morbid curiosity of the public - had aroused interest nationwide. Even in Florence, the series of murders that had shaken the city was relegated to second place.

When he got to his office, he read the newspaper reports. By mid-morning, he felt duty bound to call Polito.

'Nasty case,' he said.

'You can say that again. Never seen anything like it. Absolutely appalling. And the weirdest thing is that Valentina Preti wasn't killed in the apartment. There were no traces of her blood anywhere, but there were some in her car, which was parked outside the building. And her death took place at least eight hours earlier. It's almost as if the killer took her there just to . . .' - and he told Ferrara the details the press had merely hinted at. 'Can you imagine anything more bizarre and disgusting?'

'I don't envy you,' Ferrara said, feeling uncomfortable. 'You already have your hands full with those prostitute murders, this was all you needed. We're both going through it at the moment. What a profession we're in!'

'Well, if things go as I hope, we may be able to solve this one quickly. We've got a witness.'

'Lucky you. Did she see the murder?'

'No. But she lives in the building. Last night she let a stranger in through the front door. It was dark and she didn't see him very well, but we know that he's tall and fair-haired, has an English or American accent and wears sunglasses even at night. Young and handsome, according to the witness. He had a bunch of flowers in his hand, so she assumed he had a date and let him in without suspecting a thing. We interviewed everyone in the building last night, and no one admitted knowing him, let alone letting him in to their apartment. Of course, if he had something going with a married woman, she wouldn't have wanted to tell us straight out, especially if her husband was around. Anyway, we're working on a photofit.'

'That's good! Keep me informed, okay? If I can give you a hand, let me know.'

'Sure. Bye.'

In the middle of the afternoon, there was a phone call from Massimo Verga.

'Has something happened?' Ferrara asked. Massimo almost never phoned him at work.

'No, nothing. I just wanted to tell you something. You know that girl who was killed in Bologna?'

'Cinzia Roberti?'

'No, the other one, Valentina.'

'Right.'

'I've been thinking about it all day. I was sure I'd seen her before and then I remembered. I lent her an old book, the
Necronomicon
by Abdul Alhazred, and she never gave it back. Mind you, it wasn't valuable.'

'You knew her?' Ferrara asked, astonished.

'Not really. She came to the shop on October 1st last year. You remember, it was the day Stefano Micali was murdered. Probably just a coincidence, but that's why I decided to call you. Well, that's one reason. The other is that she told me she was studying arts, music and drama but was thinking of coming to live in Florence to do a course on popular theatre in the Renaissance. They must know something about her at the university, don't you think?'

'Good idea. I'll pass it on to Polito, who's in charge of the case. He'll be grateful to you. Was she really pretty?'

'Very'

'And I guess you couldn't resist. Was she on her own? Did you flirt with her?'

'Yes, but it was a hopeless case, my friend. My days as a Latin lover are long over. It's a young man's world. She was alone when she came into the shop, but she'd been given a lift by a guy in a huge Porsche. A flashy dresser, this guy, and he still had sunglasses on even though it was seven o'clock in the evening. One of those tall, blond guys you see on fashion posters, you know? What can a poor old Sicilian do in a situation like that, however good-looking and —'

Ferrara had stopped listening. The description was practically identical to the one Polito had passed on to him.

'Wait, did you see him well? Can you give me a fuller description?'

'Oh God, I didn't really take much notice of him. I have to admit, I was more interested in the girl. Poor thing . . . But Rita sold him an expensive pen. She must have got a better look at him than I did.'

'Let me speak to her.'

'Is it important?'

'Let me speak to her, Massimo.'

He was shaking as he waited for Rita to come on the line.

'Hi, Superintendent, how are things?'

'Rita, do you remember the man who came into the shop on October 1st and bought a pen? He was with a pretty girl
..."

'Valentina Preti, poor thing, I read about it. Tell me, Superintendent, I'm all ears.'

'What about him? Do you remember him?'

'Hard to forget him. Especially his eyes - hard, cold as ice.'

'What else? Can you describe him to me?'

More than six feet tall, athletic build, short fair hair, dyed in my opinion, very light grey eyes, foreign accent, English or American, more likely American, I'd say. Smartly dressed, rich obviously, look at the car he was driving. Can you imagine? He parked it outside for nearly half an hour, didn't give a damn about the ticket.'

It wasn't possible. He couldn't believe his ears. He'd never had so much luck all in one go.

'What
..."
- he hesitated, like someone about to place a bet at the roulette table, knowing for sure he has the right number but afraid the wheel might jam at the last moment - 'what ticket?'

'The parking ticket! Right here, outside the bookshop, can you imagine? If the traffic wardens hadn't arrived, I'd have called the police! Being a piece of shit is one thing, but doing whatever you like just because you've got money, that's something else again!'

'Thanks, Rita. If you were here, I'd give you a kiss!'

'Drop in whenever you like, Superintendent. I'm not going anywhere!'

*

Ferrara called Serpico, gave him the details, and ordered him to contact the traffic police immediately. Then he summoned Rizzo and brought him up to date.

It wasn't difficult to trace the car.

Within fifteen minutes, Inspector Sergi was back.

'The ticket was issued at 7.05 on October 1st 1999. The car was a Porsche Carrera with the licence number AP 286 XS. It was registered in Florence in the name of Lorenzo Ricciardi, living at 36 Via della Campora, in Bellosguardo.'

'Ricciardi?' Ferrara repeated. 'Like the antique dealer?'

'Of course!' Rizzo exclaimed. 'Ricciardi was the previous owner of the shop where Alfredo Lupi was killed. He died in a fire in his villa. Now I come to think of it, I'm pretty sure it was in Bellosguardo.'

'Check if they're related. And send a team right now to stake out this Ricciardi's house. I'll ask the Prosecutor's Department for authorisation to tap his phone. Sergi, check if the man owns a mobile.'

When the men had gone, Ferrara dialled Anna Giulietti's number.

After talking to Anna Giulietti, he phoned Polito.

'I've found your fair-haired man,' he announced triumphantly. 'I know you're not going to believe this, but we may just possibly have killed two birds with one stone. This guy could be my man, too! His name is Lorenzo Ricciardi. He's from Florence, and I've already got his house staked out. If you come here tomorrow, we can pay him a visit together.'

'But . . . how did you . . .?' Polito said after a stunned silence.

‘I’ll tell you tomorrow, but trust me, I'm sure. Are you coming?'

'You bet! Why not now?'

'i
need a search warrant, and I won't get it till tomorrow morning. But don't worry, everything's under control. Bring me the photos of the corpses and the ballistics report. Something tells me there might be some interesting comparisons to be made.'

The following morning, Saturday - the maid's day off -Ferrara was informed that the house was still dark. Nobody had gone in or out. The Porsche was still parked outside.

'Did you bring the photos?' he asked Polito, who had arrived punctually at nine o'clock.

'Here's the report.'

Ferrara spread the photographs on his desk and examined the faces through a powerful magnifying glass. Knowing what to look for now, he had no difficulty identifying the 'A' on Cinzia Roberti's face, half-hidden among the other wounds. He was puzzled, though. He would have expected to find that letter somewhere on the body of Valentina Preti, who had been killed first, and an V on Cinzia's.

It was a troubling detail, but not enough to dent his certainty that he was on the right track. It was nearly 9.30: time for the meeting.

Anything wrong?' Polito asked.

'No, let's go,' Ferrara said. 'No point waiting any longer.'

The
Squadra Mobile's
conference room was not large enough to accommodate all those who had been summoned, and Ferrara had decided to hold the meeting in the reception room on the second floor which was normally used for special occasions, especially by the Commissioner. About six hundred square feet furnished in a modern style, its walls adorned with historical paintings on loan from the regional heritage board.

Ferrara sat down with Rizzo and Polito at the long conference table. Facing them, occupying the first rows of seats, were some thirty men, including inspectors. There were also a few marksmen sent all the way from Rome: that was due to Carracci, contacted by Ferrara the night before. They were from NOCS, the special forces unit usually brought in to deal with high-risk situations, who had become famous in the media for a number of major operations, including the liberation of the American general James Lee Dozier on 28 January 1982. The members of NOCS were highly trained in the use of firearms, precision shooting and assault techniques. They were distinguished from other police officers by their special black tracksuits, as well as their powerful athletic builds.

A member of the forensics team stood ready to work the projector which had been placed in the centre of the room, pointing towards a white screen to the right of the table where the three superintendents had taken their places.

The aim of the meeting was to prepare their raid on the villa in Bellosguardo down to the smallest detail. Photographs of the villa taken at dawn from a helicopter and land registry maps would be projected on the screen.

Ferrara opened the meeting.

He started by explaining the nature of the operation and the objective: to enter the villa and capture a dangerous killer.

An image of the villa appeared on the screen. It was surrounded by an extensive garden protected by high walls.

'Right, this is the place,' he said. 'The wall will have to be manned on both sides of the gate before we go in.' He went up to the screen and pointed out the positions with a wooden stick. 'Inspector Venturi has already inspected the area, and he'll put one officer on each side. They'll have to be placed so that they can keep visual contact between them.

'When they're in position, I'll ring at the gate. If it's opened, I'll go in in an armoured car, along with the NOCS commander and two of his men. Everyone agreed?'

'Of course,' the commander replied immediately, sounding very sure of himself.

'I don't agree,' Polito objected.

'Why?'

'Because I'd like to go in with you.'

He had a point. The murder had been committed within his jurisdiction, even though the area they were going into was Ferrara's responsibility.

'Okay'

'What if there's no answer?' the NOCS commander asked.

'Then we'll open the gate ourselves. A crowbar should do it. But we'll have to move quickly - every second counts, the element of surprise is important. We have the prosecutor's authorisation to use force to remove any obstacles to our search, even if it means causing damage. Any questions?'

No one asked anything. He saw only heads nodding in agreement.

'Once inside the grounds, each man will have his own special task. We'll spread out, making sure we always keep visual contact, and advance towards the villa, under my orders. Nobody, I repeat nobody, must do anything off his own bat, understood?'

They all nodded.

Ferrara signalled to the forensics man to go on to the next image: a detail of the villa.

'This is the front door. There's another door at the back, almost at the corner, but it can't be seen in the photo. We'll try ringing again, and if there is no immediate answer we'll force this door, too. If it's metal

'We'll take over,' the NOCS commander said, as if the scene had been rehearsed. 'We'll use explosive charges. It'll only take a few seconds.'

'Good,' Ferrara said. 'Now we come to the trickiest part. I want you all to listen very carefully because we can't afford the slightest error. Once we're inside, six officers, equipped with night sights and rifles, will immediately take up position, two on each floor, check that the corridors are basically safe, then provide cover for their colleagues to go in and search.'