Death Brings Gold. Nicola Rocca
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 rigor mortis hadnât 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, seeing MODADUOMO clearly on the label. A serial killer was having fun behind their backs.
âA tough nut to crack.â A voice said unexpectedly. âTwo dead bodies in a couple of days.â
Walker and Bassani turned. Then, David stood up.
The Public Prosecutor had his eyes fixed on the dead body.
âGood morning, Finiâ,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.
âWe were called by a neighbour. An old lady that used to come here to bring him breakfast every morningâ. He gestured in the direction of the dead body. âShe 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. Heâd been inside on several occasions for theft and drug dealing. Between us, itâs no great loss.â
He could have omitted his last comment, thought Walker. Especially in front of the Public Prosecutor.
âWell, at least somebody took care of a guy who could still have caused us trouble,â said Bassani, trying to make amends.
Fini said nothing, and moved on to the matter at hand.
âIâve read the report on the first victim. No abnormalities, if we consider that we live in a crazy world. The only thing I donât understand is what was Super Glue doing under his tongue.â
âSuper Glue?â repeated Bassani.
âMethyl cyanoacrylate,â Fini informed him. âGlue.â
âOh, yes. Now I remember,â 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.
âGlue!â he shouted. Everything was clear to him now.
Fini and Bassani looked at him dumbfounded. So did the others.
âDonât move!â 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.
âLet him go,â Fini said firmly, âInspector Walker knows what heâs doing.â
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 everyoneâs eyes on him, Walkerâs 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 personâs face.
Then, unexpectedly, Walkerâs voice rang out. Tinged with triumph.
âBingo!â
Bassani took two steps towards him, trying to identify what Walker was holding in his hand. He thought heâd caught sight of something sparkling. He narrowed his eyes to slits and, when he was a few centimetres from the Inspector, he repeated his Chiefâs exclamation.
âBingo?â
Walker opened his hand, showing Bassani what he had recovered from the mouth of the dead man.
âYes, bingo!â he repeated satisfied. âForget about the gold necktie. This is the killerâs true signature.â
CHAPTER 18
Walker was sitting in his car, still parked a few metres away from Giuliano Giulianiâs 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 didnât 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 Giulianiâs mouth. It was gold, heâd have bet on it. Its form resembled a circle â and at a guess, its diametre was not much more than a centimetreâ, 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 âequals divided by minusâ. Or âequality division minusâ. Or âminus divided by equalsâ. Anyway, mathematics seemed the only thread of the damned symbolism.
Now, however, he couldnât 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 didnât like that man at all.
A knock on the window made him jump.
He turned suddenly and recognised Bassaniâs moustache.
The