A Florentine Death (24 page)

No, no, no! It's not possible, I tell you. Giovanni had lots of friends, but not that kind.'

All right. I understand.'

'It's the truth, Inspector. Don't you think I'd have noticed?'

He did think so, which made it all the more unlikely that the man had not even suspected it. But he knew that some gay men hid their leanings very carefully, and that their families often preferred not to see what they did not want to accept.

'But you knew that Giovanni often went to the Parco delle Cascine?'

'Yes, he went there from time to time. He was fond of nature.'

'What time did he leave home yesterday? When did you last see him?'

'After dinner, about ten, I'd say. He told us he was going to drive around to unwind. We didn't hear him come back, but that's normal because he slept downstairs and the two of us sleep on the first floor. And last night we went to bed straight after dinner and fell asleep almost immediately. He suffered from insomnia; we don't. In fact, we were still asleep when you rang our doorbell.'

'But when he went for a drive in his car, did he usually go on his own or did he have a friend with him?'

'I really wouldn't know. He belonged to a local sports club, and knew quite a few people there. I don't know if he went there last night and met someone. You'll have to ask at the club.'

'We will. One last question and we're finished. At least for today'

'Go on, Inspector.'

'Do you have any explanation for your brother's murder? Someone killed him. There must have been a reason, don't you think?'

'I wouldn't know, I told you. Giovanni was a quiet man, who never got in anyone's way. It must have been a case of mistaken identity, or else someone trying to rob him. I can't think of any other reasons. Believe me.'

The sister, Antonia, who had nodded every time her brother answered a question, opened her mouth for the first time. 'That's what it was. Mistaken identity or a robber. It's more likely to have been a robber. In Florence these days, we're not safe in our houses any more. It's not like it used to be, we used to leave our front doors open. But with all the crime these days . . . Not to mention the drug addicts, who'd do anything to get money. Even kill. But I don't have to tell you. You know it as well as I do. Florence has changed. It's become as dangerous as any other city'

True,
Sergi thought. Unfortunately that was how it was. Florence wasn't just a picture postcard image. It moved at the same speed, and had the same concerns and the same vices, as every other major city in the world.

A similar picture had emerged from interviews with Giovanni Biagini's neighbours. All this was reported to Ferrara, who in the meantime had sent out teams to gather what information they could in the area where the murder had taken place.

It was an area notorious for the suspicious characters who frequented it, and this wasn't the first time it had been the subject of police attention. The Parco delle Cascine was a long strip of land, bounded like an island by the waters of the Arno, whose territory was very strictly divided according to the various sexual 'specialities' on offer.

On one side there were the transsexuals with their clients and those drawn there by curiosity. This was the most crime-ridden part of the park. Bag-snatching and other robberies were common, as were violent assaults, often with no discernable motive. Another area, closer to where the murder had taken place, was frequented by gay men and rent boys. The rent boys were often young men from the provinces, from other towns in Tuscany, or from abroad, and men from all walks of life and social classes cruised there more or less regularly. This part of the park was the most isolated.

Near to the main entrance was the traditional spot for female prostitutes.

Lastly, the far end of the Cascine, the least well lit and the hardest to keep an eye on, was the area chosen for gay sexual encounters that weren't necessarily mercenary, and was frequented by couples of all ages. This was where the murder had taken place.

For a while now, Headquarters had been compiling lists of all those who frequented the park.

The purpose was not so much to eliminate the phenomenon, which by now had reached such proportions it was impossible to suppress, as to find ways of preventing criminal acts, especially senseless acts of violence.

When the officers had left, Ferrara called for Inspector Venturi, who was the best in his squad at searching through the records, and gave him the job of carrying out a thorough check of the computer files on the Cascine. Then he sent for Ascalchi.

'I have a particularly tricky job for you.' 'Yes, chief.' 'Are you religious?'

'Well, I was baptised. But I have to say, my first communion was also my last.'

'There's a priest in Greve in Chianti . . . Do you know where that is?'

'Quite near here, isn't it?'

'Get one of the drivers to tell you how to get there. But I'd like you to go alone. Have them give you an unmarked car. When you get to the parish, ask for Don Sergio, the young priest. Don't let on that you're with the police, understand? You have a Roman accent, pretend you're a tourist, make up some story or other. I'd like you to find out where the priest was last night. If he spent the night there, if not where and why. Think you can do that?'

'Don't worry, chief, we Romans are natural actors.'

'All right, go. And don't forget, I'm trusting you.'

The idea had come to him through force of circumstance. All his best men were involved with the latest murder, which obviously had priority. And besides, the fact that Ascalchi was Roman might really trick Don Sergio into revealing something.

In another room in Headquarters, Venturi was at the computer. He had opened the
Cascine
folder and the sub-folder
Names.

Then he'd typed in
Biagini, Giovanni
and waited while the machine carried out the search.

In a short while, lists of files containing the name began to appear. Venturi, who had not been expecting to get results, felt a rush of adrenaline.

He opened the files, selected the relevant details and printed them.

He hurried back to Ferrara's office, almost colliding with Ascalchi who was on his way out.

'Positive result, chief!' he cried as he entered. 'Very positive!'

Proudly, he placed the bundle of printed sheets on Ferrara's desk and then stood as if to attention.

'Don't just stand there,' Ferrara said. 'Sit down.'

The name had not shown up in the records at the Ministry of the Interior because Biagini did not have a record, but it did feature quite often in the
Squadra Mobile's
own databank. The licence number of his car had been entered many times. It had been spotted in the Cascine, especially late in the evening, parked very near the scene of the crime. Biagini had also been stopped many times by the police and checked out, but he had always been on his own.

'Congratulations, Venturi,'  Ferrara said.  He noticed another interesting thing: Biagini's car had often been sighted in the Cascine at the same time as a number of other cars, always with the same licence numbers.

But then Venturi saw Ferrara's face darken.

Ferrara was reading a report from a few months earlier. It had been written by two officers reporting back to their head of section some information they had received from an informer, whose name was, of course, omitted.

The information concerned the techniques used by the drivers in the parked cars. They would flash their lights at potential partners passing by, and not get out of their cars until contact had been made. But the informer had added something important. 'In the past few weeks groups of young men have been seen going up to motorists pretending to make contact with them for sexual purposes, but in fact with the intention of extorting money from them in return for being allowed to park there. Sooner or later, this is likely to lead to a serious incident.'

Could it be that Biagini had nothing to do with the supposed serial killer? That he had been killed by these young racketeers for refusing to pay, as a lesson to others?

It was pure speculation, of course, but it couldn't be ruled out, the way they could rule out a robbery because of the watch and the personal objects in the dead man's pocket.

Just then Rizzo and Sergi got back from the sports club Biagini had frequented. Biagini had not been in the previous night, not even briefly, as he usually did. No one had seen him.

Rizzo had taken a seat in the other armchair in front of Ferrara's desk, and Serpico had pulled a chair over from the nearby table.

Rizzo presented his idea of what had happened. 'Biagini must have entered the park on foot. At a certain point he was stabbed in the back. There were no signs of struggle or of the body being moved, so it's quite likely he knew the killer and was walking ahead of him along the path. It's speculation, but I think it's valid.'

'We might get information about Biagini's activities in the Cascine from the drivers of the other cars that were parked near his,' Sergi suggested. 'Fabrizi's men took down the licence numbers.'

'Venturi has just brought me a list of licence numbers of cars that have been seen a lot in the park. I want you to compare them with the ones that were there last night. Concentrate on those that recur most often. Then let's factor in the people whose telephone numbers are in Biagini's diary. Put them all together and we should be able to narrow it down to the one that interests us, even taking into account the fact that we may come up against a wall of silence.'

The men stood up to get back to work.

'Wait, Venturi,' Ferrara said. 'Seeing as you're so good with computers, could you copy for me onto a CD all the photos of the victims, starting with the Micali murder. I need them by tonight.'

Back to square one. Starting with the victims.

Night had fallen by the time Superintendent Ascalchi got back to Headquarters. He came straight to his chief's office.

'So, did Don Sergio spend last night in the parish?' Ferrara asked as soon as he saw him.

'No,' Ascalchi replied.

Ferrara felt a brief sense of triumph. 'Does he have an alibi?'

'You'd have to ask him that.'

'What do you mean? Didn't you speak to him?'

'He's not there.'

'What do you mean?' 'I mean he's gone.'

'What do you mean, gone? He can't be.'

'Gone, vanished into thin air, nowhere to be found.'

'Come on, Ascalchi, I'm not in the mood for jokes. What the hell are you trying to tell me?'

'I'm not joking, chief. He left on February 3rd, and never came back. He's already been replaced.'

February 3rd, Ferrara thought. The day after the Bianchi murder.

'Did you talk to the parish priest?'

'Of course, but he won't open up. Says he doesn't know where Don Sergio went. He left without saying a word to anyone. Not even to his relatives, apparently'

'Impossible. A priest doesn't just vanish into thin air. The parish priest must know where he is. Why won't he say?'

'Maybe he doesn't trust Romans. He swore over and over that he was just as surprised as anyone.'

And did you believe him?'

'You want the truth? Not in the slightest. But you didn't say I could use strong arm tactics
...
In fact, I didn't even tell him I was a policeman, like you said. But if you want me to, I can go back tomorrow and —'

'No, no, forget it. You did very well. If I want you to go back, I'll let you know. Or else I'll go myself. Anyway, you can go now.'

In the corridor, Ascalchi said as he passed an officer, Who rubbed him up the wrong way?' and they both laughed.

'Chief, chief!' Venturi came running after Ferrara.

It was nine o'clock, and he was on his way out. The Headquarters building was almost deserted, and the inspector's steps echoed in the corridor. He was going home. It was too late to go to Greve, and besides, it might be better to proceed with caution, and not alarm the parish priest too much. After all, he was the one who'd provided Don Sergio with his alibi for the Micali murder.