Death Brings Gold. Nicola Rocca

Death Brings Gold - Nicola Rocca


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the man see his anger.

      â€œLook, man,” he started, hitting the centre of the man’s chest with his knobby index finger. “If you’re looking for trouble, you’ve found it. You saw perfectly well that I was playing at that machine. And you also saw perfectly well that I had reserved it…”

      â€œReserved?” Green Cap interrupted. “And since when can you reserve a machine?”

      Again, that fucking annoying little smile. This man and the way he behaved was unleashing that inner force that would lead Caio to punch him until he smashed the bastard’s face. Nevertheless, he tried to remain calm, although it was not in his nature.

      â€œHey, stranger. Around here when someone tilts the stool forward against the machine board, it means that the machine is reserved.”

      â€œOh, really?” The man was laughing openly. “That’s truly a good one,” he added, before turning away to resume playing.

      Caio was now blind with rage; this man had driven him to the very depths of his anger.

      â€œGet your paws off my money, you dirty bastard,” he cursed, while grabbing him from behind and wrapping his hands around his neck.

      Green Cap started waving his arms around, in an attempt to free himself. But, considering his diminutive size, it would have been impossible for the little man to free himself from Caio Merli’s ferocious clutches.

      Luckily for Green Cap, there was a man – a recent arrival – that jumped in and was rewarded with an involuntary elbow from Caio for his efforts.

      The scuffle continued for a few more seconds, then six-foot tall Anselmo’s face peeked out from the entrance to the room.

      â€œHey, what the hell is going on here?” His rough voice echoed in the game room.

      Caio turned, slightly releasing the grasp around the neck of the man who had stolen his win.

      â€œThis fucking idiot took my machine,” he said, tugging him. “And my money too.”

      â€œWhat are you talking about?” jumped in the little fellow in the green cap. “That money was mine, I won it. Besides, if there’s a fucking idiot between us, that would be…”

      The shove he received stopped his sentence and sent him crashing onto the machine. Caio moved closer again, and slapped his face a couple of times, until two strong arms grabbed him from behind.

      â€œYou know I don’t want any trouble in my bar,” Anselmo admonished him.

      â€œI swear I’m going to kill you, asshole!” Caio shouted at Green Cap, trying to kick him. “Let me go!” he ordered the barman, who was keeping both his arms immobilised in a strong embrace.

      â€œI’ll do it only when you calm down,” the barman’s voice left no space for an answer.

      Caio wrestled for a few more seconds, then he decided to surrender to the grasp of the two strong arms.

      â€œOkay. I’m calm now,” he said, although he was still fuming with rage inside.

      â€œGood. Now you two sit here at the table and tell me word for word what happened,” ordered Anselmo.

      CHAPTER 12

      Raffaele Ghezzi’s death was a mess, the Chief Inspector thought. There were those damn traces of glue under the victim’s tongue. And the murder weapon was still a mystery.

      David Walker read the autopsy report for the umpteenth time, paying special attention to the parts that he had highlighted. When he reached the end, he remained there engrossed in his own thoughts.

      Making an angry grunt, he lifted the office phone receiver and dialled Dr Visconti’s number.

      The phone rang three times, then the Medical Examiner answered.

      â€œHi Umberto, it’s Walker.”

      â€œInspector, good to hear from you. I bet you need something.”

      â€œCorrect,” admitted David.

      â€œShoot,” Visconti encouraged him.

      â€œI’ve just finished reading the appraisal regarding Ghezzi.”

      â€œGood.”

      â€œActually, I dare say that I devoured it more than read it.”

      On the other end he heard an amused snicker.

      â€œSo, the victim died by strangulation.”

      â€œWithout a shadow of a doubt.”

      â€œBut the murder weapon still remains a mystery.”

      An eternal moment of silence.

      â€œWell, I made my observations, David.”

      â€œAnd now I’ll give you mine,” replied Walker. “Couldn’t the killer have used the necktie that was found on the victim’s body? That is, I mean, could it be consistent with the marks that you’ve found on the victim’s neck?”

      The doctor thought about it for a moment.

      â€œIt could be. Yes, I wouldn’t exclude it.”

      â€œExcellent,” replied Walker. “Besides, I read about some marks with little squares stamped on the neck …”

      â€œYes,” Visconti interrupted him. “Those squares are the pattern on the surface of the ligature strip or, as you have assumed, of the necktie used for the strangulation.”

      â€œIt’s exactly with reference to this matter that I wanted some clarification.”

      â€œThat’s why I’m here, David.”

      â€œI spoke with Carobbio, from Forensics. He confirmed that the necktie found on Ghezzi’s body had some small squares tone-on-tone. The surface of the fabric, I mean.”

      â€œWell, then I’d say there’s no doubt, David. It must be the murder weapon. If you want, we could confirm that, by comparing the pattern of that necktie with the marks on the victim’s neck.”

      Walker waited for a few seconds before expressing his thoughts.

      â€œLet’s do it, Umberto. Although… I was also convinced that it was that necktie …”

      â€œBut?” the medical examiner asked.

      â€œBut Carobbio excluded it. Categorically.”

      â€œSorry, but why?”

      â€œHe said the necktie was too neat, too clean and ironed to be the one used to strangle a man. In his words: it looked like it came from a drycleaner’s.”

      â€œSo he discouraged you.”

      â€œAbsolutely.”

      After an embarrassing silence, it was Visconti who came forward.

      â€œAs for the rest of the picture, is it clear to you?”

      â€œTo tell the truth, I wanted to ask you something else.”

      â€œI’m all ears.”

      â€œWhat can you tell me about his wrists? I couldn’t find anything in my report.”

      â€œThe wrists?” asked Visconti, worried.

      â€œYes. As soon as I arrived at the scene, I noticed some reddish bruises around the victim’s wrists.”

      â€œAh,


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