The Broken Frame Read online

  “Which is?”

  "It was on the counter. The one open to the public, not the one in the back room. A frame holding a picture of Riva, along with his wife and son. All three were posing, the classic image of a happy family."

  “Was on the counter? What do you mean?”

  "Because I brought it back and sent it to Silvestri, after I had it photographed myself. If you look at the top corner of the frame, you can see some abrasions, the marks are quite clear. In addition, the glass underneath is chipped, which is also clearly visible."

  "What do you mean, Vincent?"

  "Let me explain. Would you have a frame containing a family photo, on show almost in plain view of the customers? With chipped and broken glass?"

  “Probably he didn't notice it.”

  “That’s hard to believe.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  "I have a feeling that someone deliberately damaged it. Perhaps by banging it on the counter, as if to destroy something more than just the frame."

  “Perhaps it was what the picture stands for, what it means to them.”

  “Exactly. I’m pretty sure this frame was intact twenty-four hours ago.”

  “What do we do now?”

  "For now I've put in a request for the camera footage, both inside as well as the outside film showing the sidewalk. I want to shine some light on this story. It means we'll need to investigate a little more.”

  "Okay, Vincent. So we’ll talk as soon as you have the videos?"

  “Yes, I’ll let you know.”

  November 14

  Germano, as usual, was pleasantly surprised at Di Girolamo's knowledge and speed in finding the CCTV recordings for him to work with. The Commissioner used the whole morning to watch and analyze the films. At the end of this session, and with considerable disbelief, he felt bound to make a formal request for an arrest warrant. He’d inform Parisi about the unexpected results of his investigation as soon as he came back from Rome, where he’d been on another case.

  The Inspector showed up after brunch, and found Germano waiting at the door to his office.

  “What’s the deal? What happened in Rome?”

  "Nothing new, the gambling investigation is still missing a piece."

  "Let's hope you can solve it. Things have just changed here, drastically."

  "Changed? In what sense?"

  “It’s the Carlo Riva case. A few minutes ago I received confirmation of the arrest warrant I requested earlier."

  “Who are we going to arrest?”

  “I was surprised myself, but we're going to arrest Michele Riva. He’ll be charged with the murder of his father.”

  “How did you discover his involvement?”

  "One of the tapes shows the son, Michele Riva, when he left the art gallery at 18:50. I already called the forensic department to find the exact time of Carlo Riva’s death, and it was around 18:30."

  “Even so, Vincent...”

  "I know exactly what you're thinking Angelo. It's unbelievable."

  "Did he by any chance provide an alibi for the time of the murder?"

  "Actually, when I had the chance to speak to him, the conversation came around to the reason why his father may have committed suicide. I didn’t reveal any details at that time, and he told me he’d been studying the entire afternoon. According to him, that was from immediately after lunch until dinner time, in his studio on the Tiber.”

  “Did he tell you if he’d seen anybody? Maybe he studied with a colleague from the university?”

  "Not that I recall. Anyway, I don’t think he studies at the university. Dealing with theater probably involves working on a show in that theater."

  "It's also possible he asked somebody to cover for him during the time when the crime was committed. We should allow for that, I imagine."

  "You’re imagining a lot, Angelo. In fact from now on, any person who provides an alibi between 18.00 and 19.00 will indict themselves for aiding and abetting. The images speak for themselves."

  "Understood. Who will you send to make the arrest?"

  "Di Girolamo should be ready by then. I also called the mobile team who will be there in support."

  "Where did you say he lives?"

  “Along Via del Politeama.”

  The news of Michelle Riva’s arrest made the front page in the online editions of the newspapers. The Commissioner scanned the articles very carefully. When he was about to put on his coat and go home, Inspector Parisi entered his office without knocking.

  "Vincent, there’s a person out there who’d like to talk to you urgently."

  "Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I'm heading toward my car, Angelo."

  “I believe it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “And who is this person?”

  "He said his name is Tim Simons. His daughter lives in Rome, and she's Michele Riva's girlfriend."

  "Tim Simons? The famous American detective?”

  “I guess so. Should I ask him to come in?”

  “Wait, I'll sit down first. Okay, let him in."

  Mr. Simons looked the same as his pictures in the newspapers. Germano often read the American press, and he had to agree, at first glance, with what they said. The renowned detective wore light-colored pants, and a white Panama hat. He had a dark beard almost two inches long. The butt of a Toscano cigar protruded from his mouth, which was almost hidden by the beard.

  “Let me guess. Germano, right?”

  “And you must be the famous Tim Simons.”

  “Famous? I don’t think so. Maybe in the law enforcement world, but nothing else.”

  "What did you want to speak to me about?"

  "You see, Commissioner, Michele Riva is like one of the family. He’s been engaged to my daughter for many years, and we’re all very close. When I heard of his arrest I was shocked."

  “Honestly Mr. Simons, we were all shocked. We had many theories about the crime, but we didn't believe it was the son who killed his father. Especially after we were so confused about the suicide note.”

  “Are you talking about the farewell letter? The one that the newspapers are talking about?”

  "Yes, that's correct. For the time being we're trying to establish how Michele convinced his father to write it. Or if the letter may have contained another meaning."

  “Is it possible to let me have a copy?”

  “To have a copy? Of what?”

  “A copy of the letter, so I can check it myself. Don’t worry Commissioner, I won’t steal your investigation, and I wouldn’t try to usurp your authority.”

  “What are looking for?”

  “A clue, any clue. I’m pretty much convinced that Michele is innocent, and I'd like to help.”

  “Well, I can see you’re not familiar with Italian officialdom. I'm afraid I need to remind you that you don’t have permission to work in Italy. Only in the United States.”

  "I realize that, and I know I can't investigate this matter. At least, not officially. Even so, I'm offering to help. You’re also American, Germano, isn't that right?”

  “Yes, but I've been living in Italy long enough to remember how it's done over the ocean.”

  "Right. Let me investigate Commissioner. I promise you I won't take the initiative without your permission."

  "Simons, I fully realize my refusal won't stop you. All I ask is this. If you find something, please let us know immediately. And of course, don't discuss anything with the newspapers."

  “That's clear, after all, we're both seeking the truth. I'll be pleased if you don't try to block me.”

  “No, Simons, I won’t do that, but...”

  “Understood. I’ll let you know if I discover anything.”

  “If you do, all you have to do is call the Precinct at any time. Ask for an appointment with me, that way I’ll understand. It's the best way.”

  “Don’t you worry Germano, I’ll do whatever works for both of us.”

  “I hope so. Is there anything else you ne
ed to tell me?”

  “Not now. Thank you for your trust.”

  “Did I have a choice?”

  The news of Simon's arrival had spread throughout the police station. When Germano finally came out of his office, he felt like a celebrity. Except that instead of being surrounded by photographers, when he looked out he only saw his own agents.

  He tried not to give away any clues to anyone about the substance of the conversation he'd just ended; he merely said the investigator was interested in a few details of little value.

  One man who didn't believe the whole story was Angelo Parisi. After leaving his colleagues, he met Germano in the parking lot while he was getting into his car.

  “What did he want?”

  “Nothing in particular. He just told me he wanted to investigate certain matters relating to this issue.”

  “But he can’t do that. Did you tell him?”

  "I tried, but I gave up when I realized it would be completely useless."

  “What a man.”

  "For now we must keep this case under our control. I'm sad to say it, but if we let the guy go, we'd have to stay on the defensive, waiting for someone to make a false move.”

  “There is no other way?”

  “Not yet my friend.”

  That night was very different from how he'd imagined it. When he arrived at his home, he found some unexpected guests waiting for him. His in-laws, who had decided to delight their children and grandchildren with their recipes. Of course, as usual, they chose Germano's house for the visit.

  The unexpected arrival of Simons at the Precinct had already made the rounds of the neighborhood. It meant between the mullet and the prawns, the Commissioner also had to entertain those present, by revealing as much as he could about the popular American detective.

  November 15

  Elio Rossetti was the bartender who'd called a few days earlier to warn the police about the strange closing time of the art gallery. The Commissioner arranged for him to call in to see him that morning. Germano was waiting for him at nine o'clock. For some reason, the bartender arrived a few minutes early.

  "Good morning Rossetti. I only called you in today because of the delays with some of the paperwork, things I couldn't do before. In any case, thank you for your punctuality."

  “It’s no problem, Commissioner.”

  “I didn't answer your phone call the other night, so I'd like to hear from you how it all happened.”

  "Of course. It started a few minutes past nine. I kept noticing the shutter of the Riva gallery still up. At that point I started to watch the entrance with more interest."

  “The report says that your bar is on the corner. The art gallery right next to the bar is, is that correct?”

  "Yes, we have outside tables, and it often happens that customers want to be served outside. I had the chance to go back and forth several times that night, often passing a short distance from the front door of the gallery."

  “What do you mean by short distance? Three or four, or perhaps five feet from the entrance?”

  “More than five feet away.”

  “Did you see anybody leaving the gallery around 18:30 or 18:40?”

  "I didn't notice anyone. As I already told you, I began to suspect something was wrong around nine, when I realized that the doors were still open. Usually the gallery only remains open until six thirty.”

  “I understand. How many people work in the bar?”

  “Just my wife and I, but often I remain there on my own during the evenings.”

  “Mr. Rossetti, were you alone that night?”

  “Yes Commissioner.”

  "Did you hear any screams, or something that may have seemed like a fight? Any noises coming from the shop?"

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  "Because the wall between my bar and his shop is not very thick. Sometimes I could hear him laughing. When he was laughing."

  “Do you know Michele Riva?”

  “Carlo Riva’s son? Yes, I saw him at times, when he showed up to visit his father. I’m not sure if he knows me, but his father told me about his son many times.”

  “Can you remember when was the last time you saw him in Grottaferrata, or in the shop?”

  “Maybe one month ago.”

  "I understand. For now that's all I need to ask, Mr. Rossetti, so you may go. However, I'm going to ask you not to leave the city for the next month."

  “Can I ask why, Commissioner?”

  “Relax, it isn’t a big deal. It’s possible we may need your help. After all, you're the only person who saw the killer, so perhaps you can help us identify him.”

  “Okay. So may I leave?”

  “Go, and don’t worry.”

  As soon as the interview ended, Germano used the internal switchboard to call his colleague Parisi, who was on the top floor. His intention was to ask him to bring him the dossier containing the information he'd requested.

  The inspector showed up in the Commissioner's office a few minutes later.

  “Vincent, this is what you asked for. I'm going to leave it on this chair, I'm in a hurry."

  “Thank you, Angelo.”

  “What did the barman say?”

  “Nothing yet, but...”

  “What do you mean, but?”

  “I have this feeling.”

  “Wait, Vincent, there’s somebody outside the office. I think he wants to come in. Now he’s talking to Venditti. It's the barman, I bet he forgot to tell you something.”

  "It wouldn't be the first time. Send him in."

  As soon as Elio Rossetti took his place in front of the Commissioner, Inspector Parisi slipped away without asking more questions.

  “What’s up, Mr. Rossetti? Did you leave something in my office?”

  “Well, I've actually forgotten something, but it wasn't my mobile or my coat.”

  “What then?”

  “I can’t be sure of the time, it was somewhere around 18:30 when...”

  “When what, Mr. Rossetti?”

  “When I saw somebody who seemed to come out of the art gallery.”

  “Somebody who seemed to come out of the art gallery? Indeed!”

  “He was outside, and then he left at a fast pace. I remember he had a hand on the door knob, as if he was closing the door.”

  “Was he wearing gloves?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “A tall man, six feet or so, long hair, some beard and...”

  “Do you remember his age?”

  “He was about in his forties.”

  “Damn. This is a completely different person from the man we arrested. Could you repeat all of this in front of the judge? If you confirm the description, then Michele Riva could be released from prison today."

  “I can try, but I’m not that sure.”

  “Mr. Rossetti, let me explain to you what’s happening. You would like to have seen somebody who doesn't look like Riva. Just because you feel sorry to see him behind bars. That's all it is."

  "Are you saying I'm getting blinded by the circumstances?"

  “It's just a hypothesis. Please, listen to me. You should go back to work and don't think about this anymore. We'll solve the case."

  “I hope so, Commissioner.”

  “Me too. Arrivederci.”

  At the end of the interview, Germano began to wonder how many other people would try to lend Riva a hand. In ways that were more or less legal. He was also worried about solving the case. On the one hand, he had overwhelming evidence that seemed cast-iron. On the other hand there were the obvious contradictions. After the private investigator and the bartender, other people would certainly come with similar ideas. People who perhaps knew more than those who were investigating. Or more simply, were reticent about accepting something unpleasant.

  Two weeks later

  Germano was suffering from the flu when he arrived in the office o
n that morning in late November. He'd decided to take off his shoes, after they shed yellow autumn leaves that littered the passage, when he noticed Inspector Parisi waiting for him in front of his office.

  “Are you waiting to see me, Angelo?”

  “That’s right, good morning. We've just intercepted a phone call, and it's kind of weird. I'd like you to hear it."

  "Then let's go. Do we have any news from young Riva?"

  “No, he doesn’t want to say anything. Other than that he was at his house near the Tiber, and hadn't moved out for the whole evening.”

  “I imagined he'd say that.”

  After they'd traveled the last set of stairs, both men began to listen to a recording. It was the strange telephone intercept that Parisi had mentioned earlier. It concerned a conversation a few days before, between Tim Simons, the American detective, and his wife.

  “Hi Claire, how's it going?”

  “Everything's fine here, what about in Italy?”

  "Well, I think we've come to a dead end, and it seems there’s no way to get past it. They're still holding Michael in jail, and I haven't been able to find anything that would clear him."

  “What do they have against him?”

  “There's a recording from a security camera, where it's possible to see Michael leaving the art gallery at the same time the coroner established his father died.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Yes, but that won’t help him.”

  “Have you tried to speak to him?”

  “Yes, I tried, but he won't see anybody. Not his mother, not his lawyer, it's just making it worse.”

  “Where do you go now with your investigation?”

  “Claire, there is a small clue, but it's like a minefield. It could send the rest of the family straight to...”

  “Can you give me any details?”

  “Well, I think I’ve discovered what he was talking about in his farewell letter, regarding the big mistake which he failed to fix.”

  “He was talking about debts?”

  "No, far from it. The problem lies in the fact that an investigation in this direction could bring to light facts and events that for the sake of his wife it would be better to keep secret."

  “I begin to understand. But why don’t you want to continue with the investigation?”