The Broken Frame Read online

  “Have you tried to call her or write to her? After you realized she wasn’t coming anymore?”

  “She left me her phone number, in case I may need to call her about something, but I never did call her.”

  “It’s not my business, but have you thought about how to keep running this house without Virginia? After all, you’re a widower, aren’t you?”

  "I’ve had some offers. Some foreign girls are willing to help with the housework in return for just food and lodging. I preferred this solution."

  “I understand.”

  “Commissioner, this is Virginia’s number. If you do manage to call her, please give her my best wishes.”

  “I will, Mr. De Vincenzi, have a good day.”

  Germano had the impression that De Vincenzi wanted to end the conversation as soon as possible. Not so much in an attempt to hide something, but to cut his personal agony as short as possible. It was evident that deafness caused him more problems than he pretended to others.

  Despite everything, the conversation provided Germano with the means to push the investigation forward. After a series of checks carried out by the Commissioner, the Virginia Lucci’s mobile phone number turned up on the Internet. Specifically, in ads on erotic websites.

  It now became clear why the woman was no longer interested in claiming the three hundred Euros from her last salary.

  Germano immediately communicated this latest information to Parisi, who had already organized a team of four people to monitor the meetings and movements of Mrs. Lucci.

  At this stage, the range of possibilities appeared to broaden even more. He felt something was still missing before his investigation could go forward in a well-defined direction. The ringing of the phone interrupted the Commissioner’s thoughts.

  “This is Germano.”

  “Hello Commissioner. This is Venditti.”

  “What do you have?”

  "There’s a guy on the phone who wants to talk to you. He says he’s the grandson of a Mr. De Vincenzi."

  “Okay, put him on the line.”

  “Am I talking to Commissioner Germano?”

  “That’s correct. How can I help you?”

  “My name is Gianlucca, my grandfather asked me to call you. He says that he forgot to tell you something when you came to his house.”

  “Tell me what he forgot.”

  “It’s about the lady who used to help him at the house, Virginia Lucci. Her son was arrested by the police, that’s why my grandfather...”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Wait, I’ll ask him. Nearly a month ago.”

  “I see. One month ago.”

  "Yes, he told me that in those days he didn’t try to call her because he feared that she’d had some big family problems. However, a few days later he read that guy’s name in the newspaper, and then he calmed down."

  "Gianlucca, thank your grandfather on my behalf. Also tell him that I will visit him soon."

  “He’ll be happy to see you Commissioner. Arrivederci.”

  “Ciao.”

  Germano recalled reading somewhere how it often happened that when one of the senses fades, it refines the strength of the others. His analysis of the conversation with De Vincenzi was proof of that.

  Without even shutting down his computer, the Commissioner put on his coat and left the office. He was looking for a piece of information that went back to a period many years before. A record that, thanks to the slow pace of computerization, he could only find in the archives of the Civil Records.

  The ride from the Castelli Romani toward the city was quite an easy one. Enough to allow Germano to reach the office just before the lunch break.

  “Yes?”

  "I am a Police Commissioner, I need to talk to the person who manages the archives."

  "You have to go down the stairs and then turn right. Knock on the second door on the left."

  “Thank you.”

  The employee who opened the door seemed to suffer from the same ailment that afflicted poor De Vincenzi. The Commissioner had to repeat his name three times before he was able to capture the man’s attention.

  "A Police Commissioner?”

  “Yes, may I come in?”

  "Enter, please. I’m sorry for the mess but it’s very rare that someone comes down here."

  “Don't worry about it. I'm here because of certain information that dates back to 1980.”

  "Okay, follow me. Now let's see, the shelves for the 1980s.”

  The two men found themselves in front of a column of papers more than three meters high. Seeing this, Germano was convinced he would not be back in the office before dark.

  “Excuse me Mr....”

  “Marconi, my name is Vito Marconi.”

  "Excuse me, Mr. Marconi, but how can you find what we're looking for before nightfall?"

  "Oh don’t worry Commissioner. I’ve worked here since 1974, just tell me the day you’re interested in and I’ll find it."

  “If you say so. The twelfth of June 1980.”

  "Okay, help me move that scale, I need to get it of the way."

  Germano did as the man asked, although he was still not fully convinced of a successful outcome.

  The impeccable Marconi, however, after he’d sent down gray clouds of dust, put both his feet back on the ground. He was holding a yellowed dossier in his hands. The entire operation had taken no more than twenty minutes.

  “Here it is, Commissioner, just as you requested.”

  Germano began to turn the pages of the dossier as if it were a valuable, antique volume. One by one the pages began to overlap until he reached the one he was looking for.

  What he read was nothing more than yet more reinforcement to the knowledge he’d acquired in the past hour. After having copied the page in question, he warmly thanked the clerk and left the room.

  Once back in the car, his first thought was to warn Angelo Parisi. He called him into his office as soon as he returned.

  “You were looking for me, Vincent?”

  “Yes Angelo.”

  “Do you have any news on this case?”

  “First, I would like to tell you an old story. It started many years ago, and there are only three people who know it all, including me.”

  “Let me take a seat.”

  "Our Carlo Riva, in the late '70s, meets a very young girl. She was much younger than him, this Virginia Lucci, and he probably falls in love with her. So far everything runs smoothly, but it starts to get complicated when Riva’s girlfriend, Gianna Bezzi, asks him to marry her. At this point the art dealer, not wanting to keep a foot in both camps, leaves Lucci and marries Bezzi."

  “Don’t tell me that...”

  “Wait, Angelo. Subsequently, their lives go in different directions, and they remain apart for many years. Then one day this girl becomes a woman. She decides tell Mr. Riva there’s a child, born out of their former relationship. His name is Roberto, and he’s registered as having no known father.”

  "I see. Virginia Lucci remembered the gallery when things began to go wrong for her and her son."

  "In fact, if you look at when the two thousand Euros per month started to leave Riva’s account, you'll see that the period exactly matches the beginning of Lucci’s financial woes. At least, according to her tax returns."

  "But what does this have to do with the assassination of Riva? They’d have made a fortune if the shopkeeper had kept paying, considering the money he gave to Lucci each month.”

  "I still don’t know, but something must have happened that involves them in some way."

  “What’s our next move?”

  “First of all, you must find where this Roberto lives. After that, get Di Girolamo to dress up as an electrical maintenance worker so he can sabotage the power lines without any problem. Then he can go to the house to repair the line, and attach surveillance microphones. We have to know what he says when he meets with his mother.”

  “You want me to move the surveillance
to Roberto’s house?”

  "You should. I have the impression that the only interesting things that this woman can tell us will be those which she says to her son."

  “Consider it done, but first, can you answer a question?”

  “Tell me what it is.”

  "When you told me that Simons was a genius, after you listened to that recording, was it because he’d already worked it all out?"

  “I don’t know if he’d found out everything, but he definitely knew where to investigate.”

  “Yes, he is a genius.”

  December 4

  The operation was set to begin at six o'clock in the morning. They used a van, which Di Girolamo drove. Three other policemen, including Germano, hid in the back, and they parked about twenty yards from Roberto Lucci’s house, along Pietralata.

  The team comprised the Inspector and Agent Parisi Venditti, as well as Di Girolamo. The Commissioner also decided to join them at the last minute. Inside the van, they’d installed a sophisticated system for simultaneously listening to both incoming and outgoing calls. As well as any conversation within the range of the microphones.

  Parisi moved first. He identified the electricity meter which belonged to the young man’s apartment, and removed some screws so that the meter wouldn't work.

  When he’d finished the operation, he took a walk around the neighborhood and then went back to the van. All he could do was wait for the call to the electric company.

  They waited for two hours, until Roberto Lucci’s phone began to ring. He hadn’t noticed the fault immediately, as he’d been asleep. Ten minutes later he’d woken up and discovered the problem.

  “Customer service”, a voice answered his call.

  “Good morning. I live in Pietralata and nothing seems to work here. Can you tell me what the hell is going on?”

  “Please hold the line.”

  “Okay.”

  After two minutes, the operator came back on the phone.

  “I’ve looked to see if there’s any maintenance work going on close to your address, but there’s nothing. It must be a problem in your house, and possibly the adjoining houses.”

  “Actually, everything seems to work at my neighbor’s house. Can you send someone to check?”

  "Definitely. We’ll send a team later this morning."

  “Try to make it quick, please.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll do our best. Thank you for calling.”

  Before the young man had the opportunity to hang up the phone, Parisi and Venditti had already dropped out of the van. They would head in the two directions from which it was possible to approach Pietralata. They had to reach the apartment and avoid the genuine van that belonged to the power company.

  The Commissioner had given Giulio di Girolamo the task of repairing the line. After waiting in the van for twenty minutes, he climbed out whistling and headed to Roberto Lucci’s home.

  “Who is it?”

  “The power company. We received a complaint from this house.”

  He opened the door, and the detective was shocked when he saw him, but he managed to keep calm. Slowly, he entered the house and began to work.

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  “Well, I woke up this morning and nothing worked.”

  “It may have been an overload. I’ll need to check everything.”

  “Go ahead, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Thank you.”

  Di Girolamo’s father was an electrician, and when he was a teenager he sometimes used to help him. It meant that opening a couple of junction boxes wasn’t a problem. When he was finished, he went back to Roberto Lucci.

  “Mr. Lucci, everything seems to be working fine here. I have to check the meter, do you know where it is?”

  “Well, no, I just pay the rent here, but I’m sure it must be outside the building.”

  “Thank you.”

  Giulio Di Girolamo came to understand everything at the exact moment the boy opened the door. The temptation to report to Germano immediately was strong, but he forced himself to remain calm so as not to compromise the operation.

  After twenty minutes, Inspector Lucci reappeared in the house, where the boy, complete with a dazzling smile, was waiting to tell him how everything had returned to normality.

  After a short conversation, Di Girolamo nodded to the young man, and ran back to the van. He jumped into the driver’s seat, started the engine and stepped on the gas pedal. After five hundred meters, when he was out of sight of the apartment, he stopped the vehicle, opened the back door and met up with Germano.

  “Giulio! What the hell happened?”

  “Boss! It’s him!”

  “Who?”

  “When he opened the door, it was like having Michele Riva standing in front of me. They’re almost like two peas in a pod.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Germano's words were interrupted by those of Parisi, who informed him of the imminent arrival of Virginia Lucci at the son’s house.

  "We’re all in a hurry today. Turn on the microphones."

  At that moment everything inside the van went silent. The silence was broken only by the noise in the headphones that the Commissioner had just started listening to.

  “Hi Mom, how’s it going?”

  “Oh, I got a cold. Shit.”

  “I told you to keep yourself warm. Instead of that you never give me a straight...”

  "It just happened. As for the rest, is there any news?"

  “Nothing here, I haven’t seen or heard anyone. What about you?”

  “The same, nothing. Not even the leaves are moving over there.”

  “You know what? After everything, I feel a little sorry. For the son, I mean. After all, he’s just a moron who’s going to find himself with a life sentence on his shoulders.”

  “That’s the best way. They already have the murderer, so they won't keep searching.”

  “Yes Mom, you’re right, as always. How do you want your coffee?”

  “Short and strong.”

  “What do we do now, Commissioner?”

  “So far, there’s nothing we can do. We can't accuse anybody after just a conversation with di Girolamo.”

  “But they admitted it.”

  “Nothing admissible for the trial. Right now, we just have to wait, and see what else they say.”

  Germano was trying to gain time. In fact, there was something not quite right, and that concerned the entire investigation. His concerns were not entirely related to the fact that they’d reached a solution so quickly. They were more to do with the way the answers seemed to have dropped down on them from above. In spite of the complexity, their methods of investigation were limited to following the tracks left by someone else. Moving in a way that would be expected of any policeman in the world.

  "What, Vincent?" asked Inspector Parisi. He’d begun to perceive his colleague and friend’s sudden sense of disorientation.

  "I can’t explain it, but there’s something that still doesn’t convince me."

  “Is it something in particular?”

  "Details, nothing but details. It's all so strange Angelo. You know the first thing that struck me with this case? Something for which I haven’t managed to find an explanation. The fact that Michele Riva, when we arrested him, chose Morosini as his lawyer. Not Giacchieri, who has always been the family legal advisor.”

  "Maybe because Giacchieri is a civil attorney, and not a criminal lawyer. We should check."

  "Another thing, Angelo. Do you remember how long it took for Michele Riva to tell us he had a lawyer?"

  “I don’t remember exactly. Although I remember it wasn’t necessary to tell him he was entitled to a lawyer, because Morosini appeared immediately at the police station.”

  "How much of an inheritance did old Riva leave?"

  “Nobody knows exactly, but at a guess I’d say it’s around two or three million Euros.”

  "All right, we’ll handle it like t
his. You continue to listen, I need to return to the office for a moment. Let me know if there’s any significant change.”

  "But Vincent, is everything okay?"

  "Don't you worry, I just need to get rid of these nagging doubts. I don’t want to waste any more time."

  Germano, careful to remain unnoticed, climbed out of the van and went to one of the unmarked cars parked at the other side of the road. On the way to the police station, he called the lawyer Giacchieri, the regular legal adviser to the Riva family, to tell him of his planned visit.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t let you know earlier about this visit, Mr. Giacchieri, but...”

  “I understand Commissioner. What did you want to speak to me about?”

  "I wanted to ask why you didn’t take on the defense of Michele Riva when he was arrested. After all, you had a very close relationship with his father, right?"

  "To tell you the truth, I thought I'd offer my services, free of charge, when the boy was indicted, but I didn’t have the time."

  “I must confess that even my own men were confused at the speed with which things happened.”

  "And I'll tell you more, Germano. Old Riva made ​​an appointment with me a few days before he died."

  “Did he tell you the reason for this appointment?”

  “He just said that he wanted to fix an old mistake.”

  “Did he have a will?”

  “Absolutely not, even though I told him to think about it, many times.”

  “You’ve been a great help to me.”

  “Oh, forget it.”

  Before returning to his car, Germano phoned his colleague Parisi, to inform him that they no longer had any need to intervene or continue the surveillance of Lucci.

  Virginia, along with her son Robert, was struggling with the toolbox that they’d hidden inside the attic, when someone rang the bell on the intercom. The woman, visibly irritated, opened the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “We’re from the power company!”

  “What do you want?”

  “We had to make some repairs this morning, and we left some tools here.”

  “Wait, I must call my son.”

  Roberto Lucci rushed to his mother and confirmed that what the man said was true, so the lady opened the door.