Death Brings Gold. Nicola Rocca
waited until the sobbing diminished, then asked her to come to Police Headquarters as soon as possible.
âI should be back in Milan tomorrow,â the woman told him.
âTomorrow will be perfectly fine.â
âI was supposed to leave in the early afternoon, butâ¦â more sobbing in her voice, â⦠I will leave early tomorrow morning.â
The Chief Inspector told her he would expect her in the afternoon. Then, exactly when he was about to hang up, she mumbled something incomprehensible.
âExcuse me?â
âCan I know why you want to talk to me in person?â
Walker had expected that question. Nevertheless, he gave himself a couple of seconds before answering.
âMrs Pilenga, your husband has been found dead, in rather unusual circumstances. And you are his wife. It seems more than reasonable for me to ask you some questions.â
âUnusual circumstances? What do you mean?â Mrs Pilenga asked in an agitated shrill voice
âIâm sorry, Mrs Pilenga, but I canât provide any information over the phone. Youâll have to come to Police Headquarters.â
His tone of voice did not encourage a reply. The silence on the other end of the phone was a clear sign that she had got the message.
Walker re-confirmed the appointment for the following day, said goodbye, rang off and stood there listening to the sound of the interrupted dial tone, lost in his thoughts.
When he came back from the place heâd gone to, a new thought struck him: if the woman was in any way linked to the death of her husband, she hadnât showed it at all. At least not from her voice. Only one more day and Walker would also read her body language. Then he could arrive at his most valid conclusions. He was trusting the same instinct that had many times before guided him to the right place.
âSo?â asked Bassani.
âTomorrow weâll see if Mrs Pilenga has something to tell us.â
âGood,â said the detective, nodding. âCan I go now?â
âJust one minute, please, thereâs something else I want to talk to you about.â
Bassaniâs silence was an invitation for Walker to continue.
âIâve been informed the necktie is the MODADUOMO brand. You know it, donât you?â
âWho doesnât know MODADUOMO, Chief?â
Walker nodded, smiling. Then he typed the brand name on his Smartphone and clicked on the link.
âListenâ he said. âStraight from Wikipedia. MODADUOMO.⦠well known fashion brand made in Italy⦠founded in Milan⦠production and sale of tailored, custom-made suits and accessories for men for over fifty years⦠blah, blah, blah⦠with branches throughout Italy. Since 2004 the well known brand has also been exported, opening over fifty stores across the world.â
When Walker finished reading, Bassani, looking disoriented, spoke.
âI donât understand what youâre trying to tell me, Chief.â
Walker stared at him. The point perhaps eluding himself too.
âBasically we are dealing with a giant of designer fashion. The necktie found at the victimâs throat could have been bought anywhere.â
Walker stopped talking, giving himself time to reflect. It was when he noticed Bassaniâs puzzled expression that he began to put forward his next question.
âIâm getting there, Chief,â Bassani said, interrupting with a fast movement of his hand.
Walker continued. âIt would be almost impossible to track down the killer through that. O.K., itâs also true that the colour is not one of the most common ones. Did you get any idea of how many gold neckties MODADUOMO, in that exact model, have been sold around the world?â
Detective Bassani shrugged.
âNeither did I,â Walker admitted. âAlthough I believe that it must be a three-digit number. Iâll say it again, on our side we have thatâ¦unusual colour. Having said that, since we donât have anywhere to start from, I would like to cling to that damn necktie. I plan to drop into one of these stores. Please get me the address of the main office and let the manager know about my upcoming visit. Iâm going to have a little chat with him.â
âWill do, Chief.â
âGood, Bassani. Thatâs all. Thanks.â
CHAPTER 8
When Dr Visconti made his entrance into the Autopsy Room, he noticed that Dr Parri had already prepared all the instruments on the small trolley.
He didnât let her see that he was pleased with her. Clara Parri was the new (and only) junior medical physician, she had arrived with a prestigious CV and was eager to work with the best medical examiner in the whole of Northern Italy. And Dr Visconti, although the idea of having to babysit junior doctors didnât sit well with him âheâd only done it once with another student before her â in the end had accepted it.
And now, after almost a month and a half of work, he was pleased with the young woman. He still hadnât found any negative trait in her. She was beautiful, sophisticated, with a refined attitude and well-mannered âand these were the basics needed to work by his side. Moreover she was a quick learner. With her you didnât need to say things twice â and this was also a basic requirement if you were to work with Umberto Visconti.
âWell done, Clara,â that was all he said.
She gave him a delicate smile and he had the impression that she was attracted by his charm. He smiled back, then with few words their work began.
Visconti moved near to the table where Raffaele Ghezzi was lying, the tag tied around the dead manâs big toe stating his name.
With a sharp look he covered the dead body from head to toe several times and in the meantime he was asking himself how many corpses he had seen throughout his career. He remembered the first one. He was still a junior doctor and the dead body belonged to an obese man, almost two hundred kilos. When the doctor had made an incision on that large abdomen, it had deflated and a sickening smell had filled the room. It had lingered on him for more than a week. Or at least that was his impression.
And since that day his life had been a series of dead people and autopsies. And the people, who initially had a name, a sex and an age, with the passing of time had become mere dummies to be sliced open and a skullcap to be removed.
And now Raffaele Ghezzi was also part of that miserable group.
Visconti allowed himself a smile â careful not to be seen by the girl â which reflected the satisfaction he had for his job.
He stretched an arm towards the small trolley and retrieved two rubber gloves.
He put them on, making sure that they were snug. Noticing that Clara was already wearing hers, he nodded at her and grabbed the scalpel.
The autopsy lasted a bit more than an hour and a half.
Visconti recorded that the victim had died of cardiorespiratory arrest.
âA strip of fabric or something similar was tightly wrapped around the neck obstructing the passage of cerebral impulses.â
Then, when the dissection was almost concluded, ,Clara, who was examining the dead manâs oral cavity, in a feeble voice interrupted the operation.
âDoctor,