The Discordant Note Read online

  The Discordant Note

  Claudio Ruggeri

  Translated by Anna Sigillo

  “The Discordant Note”

  Written By Claudio Ruggeri

  Copyright © 2014 Gtrfrkbob (http://mrg.bz/hzbRda)

  All rights reserved

  Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.

  www.babelcube.com

  Translated by Anna Sigillo

  “Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Author's Note | This book is fictional. | Any reference to actual events and / or real people, which appear within the same, shall be considered purely accidental.

  By the same author:

  Author's Note

  This book is fictional.

  Any reference to actual events and / or real people, which appear within the same, shall be considered purely accidental.

  Friday, July 5th, Police Station

  “Dear Mr. Gigante ... I have no words nor patience left ... I'm leaving”.

  Commissioner Vincent Germano rose from his chair and went out from the interrogation room, very quietly but equally firmly; the suspicion he had been trying to question for more than half an hour, Renato Gigante, it seemed to him too good at lying, to the point that he was no longer willing to go on listening to those mockeries.

  Actually, the commissioner had already sufficient evidence to throw him in jail for drug trafficking, but what he was trying to do was to find out something more about one of his buyers, a professional fifty man, suspected of pedophilia.

  Germano closed the door behind him, immediately meeting Inspector Parisi’s gaze, who, imagining that the commissioner was performing nothing but one of his tactics, sarcastically talked to him.

  “Already done, Vincent?”.

  “This time, definitively, Angelo, I'm going home, I have not slept for two nights and I think I have got the flu”.

  “Actually, your wax is not that great ...”.

  “Exactly ... he’s all yours, Angelo ... before taking him in for drug trafficking, keep him here a little bit more, see what you can draw from him and proceed accordingly, okay?”.

  “Sure, Vincent... Should I call Piazza and Di Girolamo to take you home?”.

  “No ... I’ll walk a little bit to the stop and take the bus; at this hour in the morning, guys must already be at school and buses must be half- empty, see you again in the afternoon, Angelo, call me when you go out for your lunch break”.

  “Okay, Vincent, see you later then”.

  “See you later”.

  The distance that the commissioner walked to reach the bus stop was quite short; the wait lasted not more than ten minutes.

  As he had previously told Parisi, the seats inside the bus were almost completely empty; he settled along the first row, then, and waited for the driver to close the doors before making himself completely at ease.

  Germano shared the short drive from the police station to home, which generally lasted no more than a quarter of an hour, with three pairs of travelers, all male.

  The first two were sitting right next to the commissioner, who listened very carefully, obviously trying not to be noticed, the speech in which they had entering, arguing about the most effective way to betray one’s own wife without exposing too much; the commissioner smiled to himself realizing how much he still had to learn in this field.

  Sitting five rows behind Germano, there was another couple of men, that this time, instead of talking about women, were talking about some kind of successful insurance fraud, an implicit competition to find out who of the two was the most skilled in cheating the various insurance companies.

  It was the last couple that actually managed to get the only real smile of his day; they were two guys sitting in one of the last row, talking about their refined systems for truancy and to get away with it. This conversation took Germano’s mind back to many years before, when, still a boy, he would have paid real gold to have only ten percent of the sagacity and cunning those two young students showed that morning during the bus ride.

  The commissioner went down the bus and walked toward the established street, that had yet to be paved, which was a shortcut to all those who wanted to reach the residential area he himself lived in, without having to deal with two roundabouts and traffic lights.

  His approaching to the house gate did nothing but increase the sense of liberation he was feeling; the thought of finally being able to lie down on his own bed almost made ​​him close his eyes even before reaching the front door.

  He quickly undressed and lay down on the bed, wearing nothing more than a light sheet, but since the temperature was not cold at all, even that cotton sheet seemed too much to him.

  Germano took three or four minutes to finally close his eyes, he did it with his hands clasped together, almost in prayer, when in the fact they had only released his grip on the paper he was used to keep on the bedside table.

  The bells of the neighboring parish announcing noon did wake him up from his deep sleep for a few seconds; they actually were a sort of an omen, however, because a little before twelve thirty, the commissioner was forced to open his eyes, this time for good, by the incessant sound of his phone.

  “Hello...”.

  “Vincent, it’s Angelo, I wanted to ...”.

  “It’s already lunch time? What time is it?”.

  “Not really, Vincent, it’s not even one o’ clock...”.

  “You just wanted to be sure I was fine, then ... thank you but now all I need is to rest a little bit more”.

  “Vincent ... I see from your voice that you're not completely awake but ... after all, you know that I would not have bothered you if not for one very important thing ...”.

  “What happened then?”.

  “Do you know a certain Ralf Brandenburg?”.

  “Sure, he’s a music teacher ... he lives two houses after mine, what happened to him?”.

  “We do not know exactly, the gardener called five minutes ago saying that the teacher is lying with his head on the piano, he can actually see him from the outside, but being the windows closed from the inside and not being able to get in, he thought to call us for help; if you look outside, Vincent, you might be able to see at least the gardener”.

  The commissioner drew back the curtain of his bedroom window, on the first floor, and looked at thirty or forty meters away; he immediately recognized the figure of the boy who often helped the teacher with gardening and told Inspector Parisi, who was waiting for a confirmation from the commissioner before sending a service car along with the ambulance which had already been called anyway.

  Germano rushed out his house still sleepy, walked the few yards that separated him from the house of Brandenburg Ralf and climbed over a small fence before he could walk on the lawn of the music teacher.

  He found there the gardener, who didn’t stop even for a single moment to point to the window from which he could see the piano in the living room; from what they could see, Ralf Brandenburg’s head seemed to be simply lying on the instrument like during a snap or something, but his arms were hanging unnaturally, hands almost touching the floor; realizing that the window would have been forced anyway by the men of the ambulance or the fire brigade, Germano decided to do it himself.

  The teacher might seem as if he was sleeping, but a blunt injury to the back of his neck, instead, along with a huge bloodstain covering the floor and the piano as well, was there to prove otherwise.

  Realizing what had happened, the commissioner immediately retraced his steps; in the hope that he had not touched or moved anything, he headed back outside, already bringing the mobile p
hone in his hand.

  “Police Station, it’s Agent ...”.

  “It’s Germano, I need to talk to Parisi, immediately!”.

  In a blink of an eye, Parisi was already speaking.

  “Then, Vincent?”.

  “They killed him, Angelo ... send immediately a couple of cars to fence off the area and also warn the men of scientific team, we have work for them here”.

  “Okay, Vincent, I’ll do everything within fifteen minutes and I'll join you”.

  “Okay, meanwhile, I'll go and have a chat with the gardener”.

  Germano headed immediately to the boy who at first glance was not more than twenty-five or twenty-six years old, and who, during the eruption of the commissioner, had silently stepped aside, and was at the time leaning against one of the fences.

  Germano wanted to shake his hand before starting the interview.

  “My name is Vincent Germano, I am a Commissioner and I wanted to thank you, first of all, for calling us immediately”.

  “Good morning, Commissioner ... I was a little bit scared, actually, to see you jump up on that fence and break everything down... but I guessed you were a cop or something and stepped back”.

  “Yeah ...”.

  “He’s dead, right?”.

  “Unfortunately, my dear ... what's your name please?”.

  “Marco Farina, Commissioner, excuse me if I haven’t introduced myself before”.

  “Don’t mind ... we were saying ... yes, unfortunately, dear Master is no longer with us”.

  “It must be sad to die while playing a song, but ...”.

  “Wait, Farina, did you actually hear him playing this morning?”.

  “No, but seeing him that way, I guessed he was playing”.

  “I see ... have you noticed anything strange this morning? Something different from the usual?”.

  “We were not really used to talk, actually, Commissioner; once a week I come here to help with the garden but I’ve never been inside the house, I simply use to climb over the fence just the way you did before”.

  “A little bit unusual, don’t you think?”.

  “Yes, but it was him who wanted this way, he said that for convenience it was better if I had been autonomous in my work, so that he didn’t need to be necessary at home every time”.

  “I understand, Farina ... what time did you arrive this morning?”.

  “It must have been about eleven, Commissioner, I just had to cut the weeds and clean up a little bit the garden; I took it very easy, thinking to be able to go home for lunch anyway”.

  “Yeah ... one last thing, Farina ... go and have lunch now but come to my office, maybe in the afternoon; I guess you know there are always a thousand pieces of paper to fill in these cases”.

  “I know I know ... Okay, Commissioner, if you did not need me anymore, I'm off, see you later”.

  “Later, Farina”.

  When the gardener was dismissed, a blue intermittent light in the distance indicated the arrival of the police cars and the scientific team.

  Germano immediately went to the main road that allowed into the residence, in order to guide his colleagues.

  Dr. Silvestri immediately went into the living room where the lifeless body of the Master was laying; assisted by a couple of his men, he immediately set to work, making wide gestures to order the others to stay way.

  Germano, as well, did not even tried to approach the doctor to have some anticipation; he preferred to wait and speak with him when he would have come out. He remained standing just outside the house gate leaning against the wall.

  He could not be alone for more than five minutes, however, because Inspector Parisi found nothing better to do than try to have a chat with his friend and colleague.

  “Premeditated murder, Vincent?”.

  “I don’t know, the injury, however, does not seem to me a gunshot, to be honest, but we’ll have to wait the outcome of the autopsy, I have the impression that this time we won’t get any anticipation from Silvestri”.

  “He’s too meticulous to give information before he’s one hundred percent sure about the way the victim has been killed ... by the way, did you know him well, Vincent?”.

  “Not very well, we often met and exchanged small talk but nothing more, he was German and I have always suspected that he didn’t really like Italian people, included me ...”.

  “Can’t blame him ...”.

  “You're right, Angelo ... by the way, try to find out if he had any relatives here, someone official I mean, we need to inform someone of his death”.

  “He was not married, right Vincent?”.

  “Not that I know, but he has always been rather reserved about certain things, actually, and I, not to embarrass him, I have always avoided to ask for more”.

  “I understand ... I'll see what I can do. Another thing, how many men do you think we'll need to search the entire house? Will be those who are already here enough?”.

  “I think so, do not call anyone else, Angelo”.

  At that point, Inspector Parisi could not help but move away and start to give orders to the men that were already at work; after all, the commissioner had left that morning from work because he was not fine, it seemed more appropriate that the inspector left him in peace, at least for the moment.

  Germano returned to his lonely waiting and decided to light a cigarette. When he raised his eyes, he noticed a girl approaching the house showing a bit of embarrassment and decided to go and talk to her.

  When he arrived closer, he realized that perhaps she was no longer a girl; at a second glance, indeed, she did not seem to be less than thirty-five years old.

  “Excuse me, but the area is under Police jurisdiction, do you need something, miss?”.

  “No, no, I came here for Master Brandenburg, I had a lesson with him, actually I’m late ...”.

  “I understand ... but unfortunately a crime has been committed in this house and then ... I'm sorry if I express myself in these technical terms but not ...”.

  “Do not worry”.

  The long black hair hid a good part of her face and eyes, that, however, hardly lifted off the ground during most of the short interview with the commissioner; Germano, indeed, was able to meet her green eyes only once before she headed back towards her scooter parked a short distance away and then left.

  The commissioner’s thoughts were, shortly after, interrupted by the inspector walking towards the gate, drawing the attention of his superior as soon as he crossed the threshold.

  “Tell me, Angelo”.

  “Nothing relevant, Vincent ... Silvestri said he needs at least one hour more, maybe two, to finish it all, the house is large and I think that the things that have to be checked are too many for us, I don’t know, maybe it's better if we begin to organize the work”.

  “Well ... we could also use my house as a small base, Angelo, we will avoid doing back and forth all the time, we will bring to the police station only what is strictly necessary for the investigation, maybe some unequivocal clues, but I doubt we’ll find ...”.

  “But that will make your home a sort of a sea port ... are you sure that your wife is okay with it?”.

  “I do not think she is actually, but she left with the guys two days ago for the holidays, I will join them at the end of the next week ... so, for about ten days, I will put my house at disposal ... even if the plans I had were far different”.

  “Okay, okay, Vincent, then let’s wait that Silvestri goes out and we’ll start”.

  The Police men were fortunately able to complete their preliminary work on the case before the news spread and before dozens of people did peek in front of Brandenburg’s house.

  When this happened, the commissioner and Parisi were already in the living room of Germano’s house, the big table in the living room was cleared of jars, doilies and saucers of any kind and prepared to accommodate a good amount of objects and paperwork.

  Silvestri let it slip only that the probable murde
r weapon could have been a broom handle, compatible, indeed, both with the type of wound and with the fact that a brush without its handle had been found in the kitchen.

  The subsequent search inside the house, led by Germano in person, lasted less than half an hour; although the house was quite big, the furniture turned out to be quite scant, actually, so the cops found there were few places where they could find something relevant.

  The room that, at least at first glance, seemed to be the one that could provide more clues was the Master’s bedroom; when they walked inside, indeed, they found some magazine or piece of clothing scattered here and there.

  Germano headed immediately to a small desk facing the window, he opened one of the drawers and withdrew its content, represented by an agenda, some arrangements and a copy of the newspaper Der Spiegel, dating a few weeks before.

  Inspector Parisi directed his attention to the bedside tables, which was completely empty, and to the dresser, which instead seemed to finally give a direction to turn to.

  In the second drawer there were, almost maniacal arranged, four rows of hand-written letters received by Ralf Brandenburg during the last ten years, at least that was the impression both the inspector and the commissioner had at a first glance.

  They were immediately taken by Agent Venditti to Germano’s home, then placed on the dining room table, already cleared of the rest.

  At that point the commissioner left Parisi and two other men to continue the search as he walked outside, already with the phone in his hands.

  “Hello ...”.

  “Hi Piazza, it’s Germano”.

  “Hello, Commissioner”.

  “Hi ... listen, we're still here on the place where the music teacher was murdered and I think we will stay here at least

  until mid-afternoon, you should loan me a little bit of the work I have to do, by starting to prepare the papers to get the printout and password of any e-mail account the deceased had ever used ”.

  “Okay, I need you to repeat again the name, Commissioner ...”.

  “Ralf Brandenburg, have you written or want me to spell it?”.