Death Brings Gold

скачать книгу бесплатно


“Yes, I’m here,” he answered, shaking off his lethargy. “It’s exactly what I’d thought.”

“Well, then why did you ask?” joked the doctor.

“I wanted you to confirm it.”

“Well, I did.”

“Good. Thanks a lot, Umberto,” said Walker, letting his friend know that their phone conversation was over.

“Don’t mention it, David. It’s my job.”

“Ah,” Walker drew Visconti’s attention again, “I’ll show you the necktie, to compare it with the impressions on Ghezzi’s neck.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Walker slowly returned the receiver to its hook. It was the first time that Visconti had submitted an incomplete report. Poor Umberto, he must still be under stress from his mother’s death. He would give the document back to him and ask for the amendments. He didn’t wish to cause him any trouble.

CHAPTER 13

Visconti and Carobbio’s joint effort brought the first result: the necktie with which Ghezzi had been killed matched the one found on his body.

Walker made a mental note to visit the tie manufacturer and got into his car, cursing the traffic in Milan.

He parked his AUDI A3 in the only available spot, in a “no parking” space. He remained inside the car until the end of his cigarette, smoking with his eyes closed, sunk into his seat, thinking about his next moves.

When he got outside, he remembered to leave a copy of his police ID on the windscreen. He had already accumulated a collection of fines.

MODADUOMO’s main office was in Piazza San Babila, a hundred metres from there.

While walking, he consulted his iPhone and suffered all the advertising used by the big brand on their website for their products.

Nothing special, he said to himself. He lit another cigarette, ignoring that little voice warning him that he had only just finished the previous one. He sucked in three long drags of nicotine and felt his lungs cursing against him. The discomfort sensed at his breastbone brought back to memory the ongoing lectures from his mother who used to nag him every time she saw him with a cigarette.

The store was enormous, luxurious even, but not the exclusive domain of the rich. Many of its products were more or less affordable, Walker knew, even though he had never bought anything there.

A good-looking black man flung the door open for him, and greeted him showing the contrast between the whiteness of his teeth and his skin colour.

Walker returned the smile and made towards the first shop-assistant he spotted. She was young, blonde, blue eyes. Definitely very pretty. Reading the tag on her chest, Walker saw her name was Marina Papetti.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning, sir,” she answered, her voice friendly. “How can I help you?”

“I need to speak to the Manager,” he simply replied.

The blonde frowned.

“I’m sorry, sir, Mister Del Chiaro is rather busy today…”

“Tell him that Inspector Walker is here, from the Police,” David interrupted her, holding up his Police ID.

The girl widened her eyes.

“I’ll call him immediately,” said Marina, before heading away.

Shortly afterwards Walker saw a tall man approaching. Good-looking, well groomed, expensive suit. A living advert for the store, the Inspector thought, with a bit of jealousy.

“Inspector Walker?” the man asked.

“In person,” David replied, offering his outstretched hand.

“Marzio Del Chiaro. Nice to meet you. May I see your ID?”

Walker showed it to him. “Murder Investigation - Milan.”

Del Chiaro was startled.

“Please tell me Inspector, what can I do for you? Would you like a coffee, while we talk?”

David accepted his offer, convinced that the other had chosen the excuse of a coffee to bring him to a more private room, far from curious eyes and ears.

The manager’s office was very welcoming, a modern desk at the centre of the room. Along the walls were huge sets of shelves finished in white. The black marble floor enhanced the luminosity of the bright walls. Two ergonomic armchairs welcomed Walker and the manager.

Del Chiaro picked up the cordless and pushed a button.

“Elena, can you bring two coffees to my office, please? Thank you.” Then he addressed Walker. “Tell me everything, Inspector.”

“I advise you that everything we discuss here must stay between us..”

“You can count on it.”

“Good. Let’s get to the point…”

Three light knocks at the door interrupted him.

“Please come in, Elena,” the manager invited her.

A brunette, almost as pretty as her blonde colleague, made her entrance with a tray in her hands.

“Here you are,” she said, placing two steaming coffee cups on the desk.

When she was gone, Walker started again.

“I’m investigating a delicate murder case, Mr Del Chiaro.”

“Should I be worried, Inspector?” His voice showed a touch of anxiety.

“You tell me,” Walker rebutted. “Do you have something to be worried about?”

Hesitation.

“Of course not,” the man acknowledged finally.

“I knew it,” Walker smiled. “I’m here because it appears the victim was killed with a necktie made by the company you work for.”

The Inspector slipped a photo of the necktie from his pocket.

Del Chiaro stared at it intensely. He didn’t look pleased.

“Yes, I recognise it, it’s one of ours.” Then he raised his eyes and met the Inspector’s. “I remember reading a couple of days ago that a man had been murdered. But I don’t recall having read that a MODADUOMO necktie was used to kill him.”

“We’ve decided to feed journalists only with the basic information, without entering into details. They’ve already begun adding their own, making up false details to pull in more readers.

The man invited him to continue, as he started stirring his coffee.

Walker did the same, and then drank the coffee in one gulp.

“Excellent,” he said pointing at the cup. “I believe such a large company must have a software program that manages the flow of incoming and outgoing goods, please correct me if I’m wrong.”

“It does,” the manager confirmed.

“Perfect. Would you be so kind as to tell me how it works? How you manage articles, inventories, colours…”

The manager nodded.

“Each item has a code, indicating the item, model, colour, fabric… Well, the code creates an identity card of the product.”

“Very convenient,” Walker interrupted him.

“Indeed” the manager continued. “Imagine we have a white silk necktie with a herringbone motif. Suppose its identification code is CSS9047.”

“I’m following you,” said Walker, “That’s where I want to go. Let’s suppose that we have the same silk necktie with the herringbone motif, but it’s red instead of white. Would its code be the same, since it’s the same model, or would it be different, considering that it’s a different colour?”

The manager didn’t hesitate.

“If it’s only the colour that changes, then it will change only the last digit of the code. For example… if the white one ends with the number 7, the red one will end with… number 8.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Walker. “Would you be able to track back to anyone who bought, in one of your branches, two, three, four or an infinite number of gold coloured neckties?”

The manager thought about it.

“Well, if the customer has made the payment electronically, then yes, otherwise, if he paid cash, we can’t track him.”

“Well, it seems obvious,” Walker replied. “But it’s worth trying. I want all the data of all the people who purchased one or more gold neckties. The model is the one in the photo.”

While the Inspector had been talking, Del Chiaro had widened his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Walker asked him. “Something wrong?”

“No,” the manager replied, “it’s only that it’s a big job and we are in our sales period. I’ll try to do what I can, Inspector. I’ll contact my colleagues in the other Italian branches. I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

“Very good,” said Walker, satisfied.

“But…” Del Chiaro began, then stopping immediately.

“But?” Walker pressed him.

“No, nothing.”

“Please, tell me. Anything that comes to your mind might be important, even if it doesn’t seem like it to you.”

Those words were all that were needed to convince the manager.

“I was wondering… it could also be that the culprit, in an attempt to mislead the investigation, also purchased neckties in other models or colours, or even other articles, such as shirts, cufflinks and various accessories.”

The Inspector took a few seconds to think about it.

“It could be,” he agreed. “But I repeat my request.”

“My colleagues and I will do our best to help you, Inspector,” the manager reassured him.

“I’ve no doubt,” replied Walker. “Another thing,” he hurried to add. “Try to find out if any of the shop assistants remember having sold one or more gold neckties to someone who, for one reason or another, they might remember. Always with the maximum discretion. I don’t want this information spreading like wildfire.”

“Will do, Inspector.”

“Good” said Walker, smiling at him.

Then, he pulled out his wallet, opened it and took out a business card.

“These are my numbers. Police Headquarters and the mobile.”

Del Chiaro took the business card from him.

“As soon as I find anything out, I will certainly contact you, Inspector.”

“I’m counting on it, Mr Del Chiaro.”

CHAPTER 14

That morning the sky was grey and so was the city. A competition with no winners.

Walker was standing in front of the big window that from his office looked out onto an anonymous street. Bassani just stood there ,leaning against a wall.

The only audible noise within those four walls was caused by the little stick stirring his coffee. Regular, rhythmic, it was accompanying the Inspector’s thoughts. It was almost a ritual: stirring his coffee, sucking the stick, drinking the scalding mixture all in one breath. And, finally, nibbling the plastic stick. It helped him to relieve the tension. Now that was indeed a good trick to postpone for as long as possible the lighting of a cigarette.

He had almost blended completely with the grey backdrop when a knock-knock, followed by Zambetti’s voice, announced the arrival of Mrs Pilenga.

“Good morning,” said the woman faintly.