Authors: Claudio Ruggeri
“It’s no problem, Commissioner.”
“I didn't answer your phone call the other night, so I'd like to hear from you how it all happened.”
"Of course. It started a few minutes past nine. I kept noticing the shutter of the Riva gallery still up. At that point I started to watch the entrance with more interest."
“The report says that your bar is on the corner. The art gallery right next to the bar is, is that correct?”
"Yes, we have outside tables, and it often happens that customers want to be served outside. I had the chance to go back and forth several times that night, often passing a short distance from the front door of the gallery."
“What do you mean by short distance? Three or four, or perhaps five feet from the entrance?”
“More than five feet away.”
“Did you see anybody leaving the gallery around 18:30 or 18:40?”
"I didn't notice anyone. As I already told you, I began to suspect something was wrong around nine, when I realized that the doors were still open. Usually the gallery only remains open until six thirty.”
“I understand. How many people work in the bar?”
“Just my wife and I, but often I remain there on my own during the evenings.”
“Mr. Rossetti, were you alone that night?”
“Yes Commissioner.”
"Did you hear any screams, or something that may have seemed like a fight? Any noises coming from the shop?"
“No, nothing like that.”
“How can you be so sure?”
"Because the wall between my bar and his shop is not very thick. Sometimes I could hear him laughing. When he was laughing."
“Do you know Michele Riva?”
“Carlo Riva’s son? Yes, I saw him at times, when he showed up to visit his father. I’m not sure if he knows me, but his father told me about his son many times.”
“Can you remember when was the last time you saw him in Grottaferrata, or in the shop?”
“Maybe one month ago.”
"I understand. For now that's all I need to ask, Mr. Rossetti, so you may go. However, I'm going to ask you not to leave the city for the next month."
“Can I ask why, Commissioner?”
“Relax, it isn’t a big deal. It’s possible we may need your help. After all, you're the only person who saw the killer, so perhaps you can help us identify him.”
“Okay. So may I leave?”
“Go, and don’t worry.”
As soon as the interview ended, Germano used the internal switchboard to call his colleague Parisi, who was on the top floor. His intention was to ask him to bring him the dossier containing the information he'd requested.
The inspector showed up in the Commissioner's office a few minutes later.
“Vincent, this is what you asked for. I'm going to leave it on this chair, I'm in a hurry."
“Thank you, Angelo.”
“What did the barman say?”
“Nothing yet, but...”
“What do you mean, but?”
“I have this feeling.”
“Wait, Vincent, there’s somebody outside the office. I think he wants to come in. Now he’s talking to Venditti. It's the barman, I bet he forgot to tell you something.”
"It wouldn't be the first time. Send him in."
As soon as Elio Rossetti took his place in front of the Commissioner, Inspector Parisi slipped away without asking more questions.
“What’s up, Mr. Rossetti? Did you leave something in my office?”
“Well, I've actually forgotten something, but it wasn't my mobile or my coat.”
“What then?”
“I can’t be sure of the time, it was somewhere around 18:30 when...”
“When what, Mr. Rossetti?”
“When I saw somebody who seemed to come out of the art gallery.”
“Somebody who seemed to come out of the art gallery? Indeed!”
“He was outside, and then he left at a fast pace. I remember he had a hand on the door knob, as if he was closing the door.”
“Was he wearing gloves?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Can you describe him?”
“A tall man, six feet or so, long hair, some beard and...”
“Do you remember his age?”
“He was about in his forties.”
“Damn. This is a completely different person from the man we arrested. Could you repeat all of this in front of the judge? If you confirm the description, then Michele Riva could be released from prison today."
“I can try, but I’m not that sure.”
“Mr. Rossetti, let me explain to you what’s happening. You would like to have seen somebody who doesn't look like Riva. Just because you feel sorry to see him behind bars. That's all it is."
"Are you saying I'm getting blinded by the circumstances?"
“It's just a hypothesis. Please, listen to me. You should go back to work and don't think about this anymore. We'll solve the case."
“I hope so, Commissioner.”
“Me too. Arrivederci.”
At the end of the interview, Germano began to wonder how many other people would try to lend Riva a hand. In ways that were more or less legal. He was also worried about solving the case. On the one hand, he had overwhelming evidence that seemed cast-iron. On the other hand there were the obvious contradictions. After the private investigator and the bartender, other people would certainly come with similar ideas. People who perhaps knew more than those who were investigating. Or more simply, were reticent about accepting something unpleasant.
G
ermano was suffering from the flu when he arrived in the office on that morning in late November. He'd decided to take off his shoes, after they shed yellow autumn leaves that littered the passage, when he noticed Inspector Parisi waiting for him in front of his office.
“Are you waiting to see me, Angelo?”
“That’s right, good morning. We've just intercepted a phone call, and it's kind of weird. I'd like you to hear it."
"Then let's go. Do we have any news from young Riva?"
“No, he doesn’t want to say anything. Other than that he was at his house near the Tiber, and hadn't moved out for the whole evening.”
“I imagined he'd say that.”
After they'd traveled the last set of stairs, both men began to listen to a recording. It was the strange telephone intercept that Parisi had mentioned earlier. It concerned a conversation a few days before, between Tim Simons, the American detective, and his wife.
“Hi Claire, how's it going?”
“Everything's fine here, what about in Italy?”
"Well, I think we've come to a dead end, and it seems there’s no way to get past it. They're still holding Michael in jail, and I haven't been able to find anything that would clear him."
“What do they have against him?”
“There's a recording from a security camera, where it's possible to see Michael leaving the art gallery at the same time the coroner established his father died.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yes, but that won’t help him.”
“Have you tried to speak to him?”
“Yes, I tried, but he won't see anybody. Not his mother, not his lawyer, it's just making it worse.”
“Where do you go now with your investigation?”
“Claire, there is a small clue, but it's like a minefield. It could send the rest of the family straight to...”
“Can you give me any details?”
“Well, I think I’ve discovered what he was talking about in his farewell letter, regarding the big mistake which he failed to fix.”
“He was talking about debts?”
"No, far from it. The problem lies in the fact that an investigation in this direction could bring to light facts and events that for the sake of his wife it would be better to keep secret."
“I begin to understand. But why don’t you want to continue with the investigation?”
"I could do even more damage, believe me Claire. Especially if I don't uncover something useful to the investigation. This is a job that can only be done by the police. I went to see the Commissioner in charge of the investigation a couple of weeks ago. I’m pretty sure he'll find out everything for himself, without the need for me to suggest it to him.”
“So this is getting more and more complicated for you over there in Italy.”
“Oh yes. We can only wait for a miracle.”
After listening to the conversation, the two police officers very slowly laid down their headphones on the table. They stared at each other dumbfounded for several seconds, until Germano ended the heavy silence.
“Angelo, what makes you suspicious about this conversation?”
"I don't know. It seems as if Simons had some purpose other than to inform his wife. If you listened carefully, you may have noticed how every single word and every single concept was presented in great detail. Calm, almost like he was dictating to a primary school class. I don’t think this was just a call to his wife, but for us as well. After all, we've seen several attempts to misdirect us, right?”
"True, but this time I don't think they wanted to lead us down a dead end. Can I hear it again?"
“Sure.”
Germano listened to the tape twice more. After that he put the headphones on the table for the last time.
“This guy Simons is truly a genius.”
“What are you trying to say, Vincent?”
“He’s a genius. Now I understand why he’s so famous, it would take too long to explain. Angelo, do me a favor. As well as the records for the past month, try to go back further. Get the records as far back as six months ago."
“The telephone records from Carlo Riva?”
“Yes. He was a customer of the bank, right in front of his shop, correct?”
“That’s the branch, yes.”
“Good. Angelo, bring me that information as soon as possible. In the meantime I’ll go to the bank.”
"Okay, Vincent. We'll meet up later?"
"As soon as there's some news."
"See you later then."
Germano arrived at the bank in Grottaferrata just after it had opened. He discreetly went to the security guard located near the entrance, showed his badge, and asked to speak to the manager. After some quick calls through the switchboard, the Commissioner was ushered inside and into the room of the branch manager.
Andrea Veroli looked barely forty years old. He was definitely one of the youngest bank managers Germano had ever seen, and after a vigorous handshake, the Commissioner was invited to sit down.
“What can I do for you, Commissioner Germano?”
“As you may know, a couple of weeks ago the owner of the art gallery situated in front of your bank was found dead. Our research has shown us he was your client.”
“Oh yes, he came here twice a month to bank his profits.”
“What kind of client was Carlo Riva?”
“Please wait, I need to check. He had an account for more than ten years, and during that time we haven't had any problems with him. Our people said he was very polite with everybody.”
“Is there any chance that in these ten years you saw something that attracted your attention, something unusual?”
“Absolutely not. He was an excellent client. We don’t have too many like him.”
“I understand. Listen, I’ll bring you the authorization as soon as possible, but right now can you show me the list of his single transactions from last year?”
“Okay, I just need to print it.”
When Germano left the bank, he rushed to his car. In his hands he carried the documents that he intended to give to Parisi. It would enable him to subject them to a thorough scrutiny.
Parisi, in the meantime, had started to check Riva’s telephone records, trying to discover the trail Germano was following.
The Commissioner went back to his office a few minutes before ten. He started work immediately, after he’d lit a cigarette, and began to grapple to make sense of every bank transaction.
It emerged that Carlo Riva used his bank account to pay all of his normal domestic bills, including his mobile phone. Also for his insurance payments and car tax.
The ATM was rarely used, and the few exceptions were mostly at the gas station. The money transferred into the account could be traced to bank transfers resulting from the sale of works of art.
A few minutes after noon, Germano felt he'd discovered some interesting information, and he hoped Parisi had too. He went to his office.
“May I come in?”
“Sure, come inside, Vincent.”
“Did you found anything?”
“Here’s what I have, but I must be honest, I don’t know where you're going with this.”
“Without the rest of the information, it would definitely have been impossible to work it all out."
"In that case, would you explain exactly what we're looking for?"
"We need to find out where Carlo Riva used to go on the fifteenth of every month."
“What?”
"Amongst his bank cards, I found that each month, between the tenth and the thirteenth, he withdrew a sum of two thousand Euros in cash. Considering he didn't use it to pay bills or to go shopping, I need to find who the recipient was."
“Maybe the wife?”
“No, I've checked Mrs. Bezzi’s bank account. She has her own credit cards. As for the son, he pays his debts with what he earns from his job.”
“So who then?”
"Take a look at the records and eliminate all those places where Carlo Riva has not gone around the fifteenth of each month."
“This is going to take a while, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“I'm counting on it.”
“Stay calm, Vincent. I'll see you later.”
For the next two hours, the Commissioner read through more of the documents. Germano was determined to find the tiniest detail, even if it wasn’t at all clear at the outset.
During the second search, Germano noticed the damaged frame that contained the family photo of Riva. It seemed to want to talk, even if the language appeared to the Commissioner to be obscure and indecipherable.
After his analysis of the papers, ideas began to ripen in Germano’s head. They were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of Inspector Parisi.
“What is it Angelo?”
“I have what you wanted.”
“Ok, give me the details.”
“Mr. Riva used to visit a house in Via Oreste De Marchis, which is a street that crosses Via Cristoforo Colombo. His visits were never longer than twenty minutes.”
“Did you check to see if those visits occurred after he went to the bank?”