Death Brings Gold

скачать книгу бесплатно


The entrance of the building was blocked with the usual red and white tape.

Inspector Walker marched in resolutely, until a man in a uniform signalled him to stop.

“Police,” Walker said, showing his Police ID.

The police officer apologised with a movement of his arms and lifted the tape, inviting him to cross it.

David climbed the stairs, two steps at a time. He had no difficulty identifying the flat, with two policemen guarding the entrance.

Even before he’d pulled out his Police ID for them, the policemen stepped aside, clearing the way for him. He thanked them ,nodding, and pushed the door open.

The sound of the door creaking open caused another uniformed man to turn.

“Chief, welcome!,” he said.

“Good morning, Bassani.”

“Something wrong?”

“Next question, please! I’ve had an awful start to the day” admitted Walker.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll find anything relaxing here, Chief.”

Walker immediately understood what his subordinate meant.

Not far from them, on a filthy floor , was a man lying in an arranged position.

The Inspector moved closer and stood staring at the dead man. It wasn’t the necktie that was troubling him. He’d expected to find that. The dead man had two body parts missing: a hand and a foot.

Of course, the amputations were not the work of the killer. They were covered with two identical socks. Therefore, they were old wounds.

The same couldn’t be said about his own shoulder. Fuck, it hurt!

He bent over the dead man, careful not to contaminate the scene. The mouth was half-closed. The temperature inside the flat had contributed to slow down the process of stiffening the body, the Inspector noticed. The rigormortis hadn’t yet set in . Not completely, at least.

Walker pulled a pair of latex gloves out from the small box the Forensic agents had left almost beside the dead man. He lifted the end of the necktie to get a glimpse of what interested him. He smiled bitterly, seeingMODADUOMOclearly on the label. A serial killer was having fun behind their backs.

“A tough nut to crack.” A voice said unexpectedly. “Two dead bodies in a couple of days.”

Walker and Bassani turned. Then, David stood up.

The Public Prosecutor had his eyes fixed on the dead body.

“Good morning, Fini”,Walker and Bassani greeted him in unison.

Antonio Fini waved at them. Then the three men moved further away, the Forensic specialists were there to collect evidence.

Before the Public Prosecutor could ask , Bassani gave him an account of the facts.

“We were called by a neighbour. An old lady that used to come here to bring him breakfast every morning”. He gestured in the direction of the dead body. “She told us he was a poor devil. He never had a penny in his pocket and she was doing all she could to help him. However, I was informed by Headquarters that he was no saint. He’d been inside on several occasions for theft and drug dealing. Between us, it’s no great loss.”

He could have omitted his last comment, thought Walker. Especially in front of the Public Prosecutor.

“Well, at least somebody took care of a guy who could still have caused us trouble,” said Bassani, trying to make amends.

Fini said nothing, and moved on to the matter at hand.

“I’ve read the report on the first victim. No abnormalities, if we consider that we live in a crazy world. The only thing I don’t understand is what was Super Glue doing under his tongue.”

“Super Glue?” repeated Bassani.

“Methyl cyanoacrylate,” Fini informed him. “Glue.”

“Oh, yes. Now I remember,” Bassani said, annoyed over the bad impression he was making.

Then Fini continued talking, but Walker had stopped listening to him. His brain was now following other trajectories.

When the Inspector came back to earth, he did it with a tone of voice that froze everyone present.

“Glue!” he shouted. Everything was clear to him now.

Fini and Bassani looked at him dumbfounded. So did the others.

“Don’t move!” Walker ordered to the Forensic agents, who had just closed the bag, after the Public Prosecutor had given them permission with a nod of his head.

Without waiting for anyone to ask for explanations, Walker moved closer, but an agent of the Forensic team tried to stop him, catching the attention of the Public Prosecutor.

“Let him go,” Fini said firmly, “Inspector Walker knows what he’s doing.”

David smiled at him, pleased. Then, regaining his serious look, he made sure that the gloves he had taken earlier were still intact. As a precaution he took them off, pulled a new pair from the box, and put them on.

The body bag opened with the metallic sound of its zip.

Trying to ignore the pressure of everyone’s eyes on him, Walker’s hands disappeared inside the bag.

Anyone who had seen his arms fussing around inside that bag would have thought that he was playing with the dead person’s face.

Then, unexpectedly, Walker’s voice rang out. Tinged with triumph.

“Bingo!”

Bassani took two steps towards him, trying to identify what Walker was holding in his hand. He thought he’d caught sight of something sparkling. He narrowed his eyes to slits and, when he was a few centimetres from the Inspector, he repeated his Chief’s exclamation.

“Bingo?”

Walker opened his hand, showing Bassani what he had recovered from the mouth of the dead man.

“Yes, bingo!” he repeated satisfied. “Forget about the gold necktie. This is the killer’s true signature.”

CHAPTER 18

Walker was sitting in his car, still parked a few metres away from Giuliano Giuliani’s house.

He had just ended a phone call with Visconti. He had told him about the new victim. There was more work for him, although, Walker was sure about it, nothing new was going to be revealed by the autopsy. The usual death caused by strangulation with a necktie and the usual lack of clues. The only difference was going to be the fact that Giuliani didn’t have bruises on his wrists, but only on one wrist and ankle.

Anyway, he was looking forward to this new autopsy report, hoping for some news that would boost the investigation.

Right now he had more important puzzles to solve.

He thought again about the small tag found in Giuliani’s mouth. It was gold, he’d have bet on it. Its form resembled a circle – and at a guess, its diametre was not much more than a centimetre–, although its edges were quite irregular. Jagged. It almost looked gnawed by rats. It was approximately a couple of millimetres thick. He had never seen anything like it in his life. Also, there were those strange symbols engraved on one of its faces, and roughly polished.

Tapping the fingers of his hand on the wheel, he was keeping his eyes fixed on the sheet of paper where he had copied, in large size, the symbols.

The more he stared at them, the more he repeated to himself that it was all absurd.

Four fucking lines. Two were parallel, a third one, always parallel but a bit off, and a final line that, compared to the others, was oblique. In his opinion, those lines were the signature left by the killer. The problem was twofold: how to read those lines and how to interpret them. He could have put them in many positions.

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

= / -

Which was the right one? If there was a right one.

Four lines, that at that moment meant nothing to David Walker. Almost nothing.

The only thing he could think of was “equals divided by minus”. Or “equality division minus”. Or “minus divided by equals”. Anyway, mathematics seemed the only thread of the damned symbolism.

Now, however, he couldn’t wait to arrive at Headquarters. He should have already sent two men to tail Merli, but with the flat tyre and the new dead body, he had lost time. One of the priorities, apart from studying those stupid symbols, was to keep an eye on Merli. He didn’t like that man at all.

A knock on the window made him jump.

He turned suddenly and recognised Bassani’s moustache.

The detective, showing an amused smile, was signalling him to wind his window down.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Chief,” he said to him.

“No problem,” Walker replied, defensively, “I was studying these damned symbols,” he continued, waving the paper in front of him.

“Ah!” exclaimed Bassani. “It’s a big headache.”

“It is,” confirmed the Inspector.

When Walker turned back to Bassani, he noticed the detective’s face was as dark as a cloudy night sky.

“What’s the matter, detective?” he asked him.

The man waited for an eternity before answering.

“What’s got into you?” Walker pressed him again.

Bassani stroked his moustache.

“We must return to Ghezzi’s house,” he stated, serious.

“To Ghezzi’s?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“But why?” asked Walker.

“Do you remember when someone said they’d heard the noise of something falling on the floor? A metallic sound…”

“It was a butto…” Walker didn’t finish his sentence. “Are you trying to say that…?”

“Yes,” admitted the detective. “If we’re lucky, we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

“You’re a genius, Bassani.”

CHAPTER 19

David was sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on his mother’s lifeless ones. He was listening to the mangled words the woman was pronouncing with difficulty. They seemed meaningless and made no sense. A sign that death was coming to take her.

David sighed, trying to hold back the tears.