Death Brings Gold

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“Good morning, Mrs Pilenga,” answered the Inspector, without turning to face her. “Thank you for coming back.”

Martina stood there in silence, also because she had nothing to say. If it was for her, she wouldn’t have come back, but the Inspector had summoned her. And here she was.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Walker invited her. Then, he turned, offered her a warm welcoming smile and sat in his armchair, inviting Bassani to sit down as well. “So…”

He drummed his fingers on the desk, while waiting for Zambetti to reach his position at the computer. He decided the time had come to be direct.

“Did your husband have any enemies?” Maybe a bit too direct.

The widow opened her eyes wide. “No,” she answered almost under her breath. “Not that I know of. You have already asked me that.”

“But between you two… between you and your husband, I mean, there was bad blood between you. Isn’t that true?”

“And why should this be relevant?” asked the woman, irritated. “I already told you last time… it was the same bad blood that there might be between any couple after thirty years of marriage.”

Walker took a deep breath. He couldn’t stand when people screwed with him. He folded his arms and leaned against the back of his armchair.

“Mrs Pilenga, I’ve got a wife too,” he lied, earning a look of surprise from Zambetti. Bassani simply sniggered. “I know what it means to have been married for many years. And I also know what the ups and downs between a husband and wife are. A marital infidelity is not part of these ups and downs. I guarantee it.”

“And what are you trying to say with that?” she asked, giving him a sharp look.

“Mrs Pilenga, maybe what you don’t understand is that we are here to help you. But you need to help us. And you can do so only by cooperating.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “We are the police, not a bunch of idiots. Even though there are jokes around about us that make us look like it. We’ve been told that you’ve had an affair. And the truth about this could give us a new lead regarding the death of your husband. Therefore, we expect from you nothing less than maximum cooperation.”

He stopped, allowing the woman to get the message. When he was sure she had, he went further, continuing “Mrs Pilenga, adultery is not a crime in Italy. Perjury is.”

“Are you saying that I am a loose woman, Inspector?” pressed the woman, challenging him.

“No, Mrs Pilenga,” said Walker, shaking his head. “I’m trying to understand who, and for what reason, someone took your husband’s life.”

“And the fact that I had an affair with another man could help you catch my husband’s killer?”

Her tone of voice was suspicious, but her wall of distrust was crumbling down. The tears that appeared in her eyes proved it. The woman rummaged inside her handbag looking for a tissue.

“Why not,” answered the Inspector dryly. “You, or your lover, or both of you. You are all suspects.”

Martina Pilenga’s face turned purple. If this was a cartoon, we would have seen smoke coming out of her ears.

“Are you insinuating that I killed my husband? But do you realise …?”

“No, Mrs Pilenga,” Walker interrupted her, his voice hard. “Mine is only an assumption. Assuming…” he started moving his hands around, “is part of my job. Maybe among thousands of assumptions that don’t lead anywhere, one will jump out and bring you straight to the truth.”

“Alright then,” the woman surrendered. “I admit I have had a relation with another man. But I can assure you that it has nothing to do with my husband’s death. We were at odds, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”

Walker exchanged a look with Bassani. And this is our first one, he seemed to be saying.

“Try to relax, Mrs Pilenga. If you had admitted your extra-marital relation immediately, you wouldn’t be here now.”

The Inspector leaned against the back of his armchair again and observed the woman before him without sympathy. Better being a bachelor for life, than having a wife like her.

“Maybe this relation has nothing to do with the death of your husband but, as I’ve told you before, we need to follow any lead. And at the moment a crime of passion seems to be the only one.”

Mrs Pilenga nodded. It looked like she had understood. She sniffed and dried her eyes again, shaking her head negatively.

“Can I go now?”

Walker sighed. He looked at his assistant and then at the widow again.

“Zambetti, offer Mrs Pilenga something warm to drink – if she’d like – and then accompany her to the exit.”

The assistant nodded. He was about to escort the woman towards the door, but Walker’s voice stopped them.

“Mrs Pilenga?”

“Yes?” she answered , turning back.

“With whom did you have an affair?”

Walker’s voice was calm, but steady.

Martina Pilenga shook her head, as if to push away a question that wasn’t going away. She lowered her eyes and murmured a name.

Zambetti took her by the arm, as you would do with someone who is barely standing up, and escorted her out of the room.

“Did she get offended ?” asked Walker.

“Maybe a bit. But you did well to be so frank, Chief.”

He was beginning to like this Bassani. Caslini had better hurry back from his holidays, Walker thought ironically. Or he was going to find his place taken.

“What do you think?” he asked him.

“About what, Chief?”

“That she might have killed him.”

“Her husband?” asked Bassani doubtful.

“Mh-hm,” agreed David.

“I don’t think so. It seems unthinkable that such a petite woman could even hurt a man. Let alone kill him.”

“Good observation,” said the Inspector. “She could never have done it. Unless…”

“Unless?” asked the man, curious.

“Unless she had an accomplice”.

“An accomplice?”

How the hell can Bassani not bloody get it? Maybe Caslini didn’t have to worry about losing his job after all.

“Yes, an accomplice, for God’s sake. A crime of passion. To get rid of the betrayed husband. The wife, along with her lover and accomplice, kills the husband. A story as old as time!”

Bassani stood there with his mouth open, his eyes like saucers.

“Do you really believe that woman and her lover might have killed that guy?”

“Of course not,” answered Walker straight off, quickly waving his hand through the air, as if he wanted to slap away the idiocy of what he had just heard. “Why would they put that necktie around the victim’s neck?”

Bassani was fed up with the Inspector’s flights of fancy. Firstly he would say one thing, and soon after he would dismiss it. You need to have a lot of patience with your superiors.

“Maybe to mislead the investigations, Chief.”

Walker smiled, allowing himself a blessed moment with his cigarette.

“Do you mind?” he asked after he lit it.

The man gave his approval opening his arms ambiguously. What else could he do?

“But have you seen her, Bassani? Does she look to you like someone who could mislead an investigation? That is a frustrated woman, in search of something her husband couldn’t give her anymore. I’m afraid that Ghezzi’s death, on the other hand, is the work of a professional.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Mh-mh. And the tie around his neck is nothing else than the killer’s signature.”

The man nodded, showing a bitter resignation.

After a beat, it was Walker who spoke again.

“And what can you tell me about her lover, detective?”

Bassani thought about it.

“I don’t know Chief… I’ve got the impression that somehow I’ve heard that name before,” he said succinctly.

CHAPTER 15

When Inspector Walker entered Café Cielo, the man who had invited him to breakfast was already sitting down.

Walker greeted him with a nod and approached him.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Inspector,” replied Carobbio. “Please, sit down” he added, inviting him to take a seat.

Walker obeyed. Then he took off his gloves and scarf and rubbed his hands.

“What would you like?”

“Whatever you’re having will be fine,” said Walker, without giving it much thought.

“Two Scotches, then,” declared the Chief Inspector of Forensic Police.

Walker gave him an incredulous look.

“I was joking,” continued Carobbio, smiling. “You really think I’d have Scotch for breakfast?”

David smiled too.

When the waitress came, Carobbio ordered two cappuccinos with soy milk and two wholemeal chocolate brioches. The girl nodded, firstly showing a perfect smile and then, when she turned her back to them, a rear worthy of a standing ovation. Both men admired the ass, catching each other doing so. However neither one hazarded a comment.

“Chocolate in the morning wakes the mind up, Inspector,” said Carobbio. “Did you know it?”

Walker, still absorbed in following the progress of the girl’s bottom, was caught unprepared.

“No,” he answered, bringing his eyes towards the other man. “I’ve never heard this one. Maybe because in the morning I wake my mind up with these,” he concluded, throwing his packet of Marlboros on the table.

“Oh, Inspector, that’s a really bad habit! Anyway, that thing about the chocolate is not a rule. I mean… it wasn’t a Nobel prize winner who discovered it, but for me it works. I can’t explain why, but chocolate in the morning wakes up my neurons.”

“Well, let’s hope it has the same effect on mine”, Walker said with a wink.

After this amusing exchange of witty remarks, the waitress arrived with their breakfast.

Carobbio waited until the girl was gone.

“Let’s get down to it, Inspector. To serious matters,” he said gravely.

“I’m all ears,” answered Walker, knowing that the Chief of Forensic hadn’t invited him to breakfast just to discuss chocolate brioches.

Carobbio took all the time he needed to explain the situation.

“We have examined the fingerprints discovered at Ghezzi’s.” He chewed a piece of brioche with pleasure and swallowed it. “As I have probably already mentioned, three sets of fingerprints were found in the flat. One belongs to Ghezzi, the owner of the flat; the other to his wife, Mrs Martina Pilenga, and thus far everything seems normal.”

Carobbio allowed himself another sip of cappuccino.

“The problem is the third set,” he continued calmly. “It belongs to a minor craftsman from that area.”

“And who is he?” asked Walker, curious.

“He’s someone called … ah, I’ve got his name on the tip of my tongue. Damned old age! Anyway, he’s known for being someone who is quick to use his hands.”

“What do you mean?” asked David, interrupting him.

Carrobbio continued, as if nothing had happened.

“It means that when there’s a fight, he is not the type to back down. He has a record because he has been charged several times for minor scuffles.”

“Well, fist fighting is not exactly like killing a man,” said Walker ironically.