Death in Tuscany (7 page)

'Now I understand . . .' He looked Ferrara straight in the eyes and after a moment's reflection, continued. 'I give you my word of honour that, while she was under my personal observation, she was treated with the greatest care and attention. Can I guarantee that no errors were committed, not even a small one? No. Obviously, I hope there weren't, but this is a large hospital and we have a lot of patients. And it is August, Chief Superintendent. You know what that means, you work in a public institution yourself. And you also know how important prestige and reputation are to such an institution. So I'll leave it to you to do as you see fit. For my part, I'll make sure there's an internal inquiry and let you know the results. Have a good weekend.'

And with that, he unlocked the door of his gunmetal grey Maserati coupe by remote control.

Ferrara once again wondered if there had been malpractice. Was that why d'Incisa had asked to attend the autopsy, despite being in a hurry to get away to the seaside? And was that why he had pressed for Violante's report to be completed quickly?

He stood there, watching as the doctor pulled out of the parking space and drove away. With him went that sandalwood scent, to be replaced by a vague, pungent, evil odour.

Ferrara had put his finger in shit this morning.

He was sure of it now.

4

The road snaked its way around the flank of the hill, which bristled with beeches and brambles on either side. Occasionally, through gaps in the wild undergrowth, he caught a glimpse of the expanse of vineyards and olive groves, with their neat, man-made rows.

The officers were at work on a spur of beaten earth to the right of the road, which at that point veered sharply to the left, leaving an area of open ground where there was room for four or five cars. Their cars, though, were not parked there, but to the side, taking up part of the narrow provincial road, and two officers with signal paddles stood on either side of the bend, making sure that the local traffic got through safely.

Ferrara got out of his car and walked over to where Ascalchi and Sergi were giving rather tentative instructions to two forensic technicians equipped with cameras, both still and video.

'Found anything?' he asked.

'Nothing, chief,' Ascalchi replied. 'Just a few empty bottles of water, a lot of cigarette stubs, empty crisp packets, beer and coke cans. No knickers, shoes or bras. This isn't a place for couples, I can tell you that.'

'How about syringes?'

'Are you kidding, chief? We're at least half a mile from anywhere remotely civilised, and there are at least a hundred better places to shoot up between there and here.'

Ferrara looked at Sergi - known as Serpico because of his resemblance to the main character in the Al Pacino film - and found conformation in his eyes, as well as a certain puzzlement. He seemed to be wondering what he was doing here.

'Where was the body found?'

'Over there,' Ascalchi said, leading him to a point immediately beyond the edge of the open space, where the ground started to fall away. Here, an area of flattened vegetation marked the spot where the body had lain.

Ferrara stopped close enough to see, and stopped Ascalchi, too. Any sign of the body being dragged along the ground?'

Ascalchi hadn't thought of it, perhaps because he hadn't specifically ordered him to. With Rizzo it wouldn't have been necessary.

'But, chief, the paramedics were here . . . they took her on a stretcher to the ambulance, so . . .'

'So you didn't think of looking? Is that what you're trying to say?'

Sergi intervened. 'No, chief. The team have done their job well, they've been very careful, as always, but as you can see—'

As I can see, the area needs to be checked thoroughly'

'Yes, chief,' Sergi replied, obviously sceptical.

In his heart Ferrara couldn't really fault him. This didn't look like a crime scene, if indeed there had been a crime.

There were many tyre tracks, some quite close to the place where the body had been found, and lots of shoe prints, often one on top of the other. Ferrara ordered the technicians to photograph both the tracks and the prints, and they obeyed so as not to contradict him and to keep themselves busy, even though they had already taken quite a lot, and as far as they were concerned they had already finished.

'The one thing we can be sure of is that the body wasn't dragged along the ground,' Ferrara said eventually. 'Do we agree on that?'

'Absolutely' Sergi said.

And that if kids come here they don't get out of their cars, not even to pee,' Ascalchi commented. 'In my opinion, these are all adult prints, chief.'

Perhaps it was only meant as a joke, but it showed that Ascalchi had good observational skills.

'I'll wait till I've seen the photos, but I'd say you were right. So if she was barefoot, and that's something we'll be able to check on, she certainly didn't walk anywhere around here. Leone didn't find any traces of mould or hard particles under the toenails.'

'Which would mean . . .?' Sergi said, his interest suddenly aroused.

'That most likely the girl didn't get here by herself, somebody else brought her here,' Ferrara said, already thinking ahead. And that in any case she wasn't an addict who came to a deserted spot to shoot up, given the kind of area this is and the absence of syringes or any prints suggesting that people were walking near where she was found. That seems to be the first thing we've definitely established.'

If she had been brought here, there were two possibilities: either she had been transported in a car, or she had been carried in someone's arms across the countryside from one of the villas or houses in the area. The nearest were at least six or seven hundred yards away. If she had been carried, it would have had to have been by more than one person, because if there was only one person carrying her, she would have had to have been dragged for long stretches. If on the other hand she had been dumped from a car, then she could have come from anywhere and only one person might have been involved.

Both possibilities had holes in them, but they couldn't be ruled out. That meant they would have to search the whole of the surrounding area.

Tm sorry, boys, but we haven't finished here yet. We have to comb the area over a radius of at least a mile, and check out all the nearby buildings, discreetly if possible. Send for reinforcements if you need them. I have to get back to the hospital'

It had occurred to him that he had left without even saying goodbye to Leone, and that a chat with Signora Finzi and some of the other nurses might not go amiss.

It also occurred to him that it was already afternoon and he hadn't had lunch, but he wasn't hungry. Usually when he was on an important case, he skipped meals without even noticing. Perhaps all the cigars he smoked took away his appetite. This time, he was sure it had nothing to do with his cigars, and everything to do with the macabre spectacle he had chosen to observe that morning.

The prospect of going back to the hospital didn't appeal to him, but when had he ever been able to afford the luxury of choice?

Leone had already left: he would have to call him later to apologise. He had better luck with Signora Finzi, who as it turned out was on duty that afternoon.

She was about fifty, tall and thin, with copper-coloured hair and a thin, hooked nose. She wore glasses with thick blue-tinted lenses. She looked like the kind of woman who never smiled, but in the event she was neither hostile nor crabby.

She led him to an empty office, away from the chaos of the waiting rooms. The room was full of metal tables piled high with files and boxes of medication, and several electronic devices were stacked on shelves.

'I'm here about the young girl who overdosed,' Ferrara began.

The woman nodded. If she was surprised, she didn't show it.

'Were you on duty when they brought her in?' 'Yes.'

'When was she transferred to intensive care?'

'Almost immediately. Doctor Carli in emergency immediately realised it must be an overdose and that the girl was in a serious condition. He informed Professor d'Incisa, who had her transferred to intensive care immediately'

'So it was the professor who admitted her?'

'The professor and his team, yes.'

'It was Sunday, is that right?'

'Yes, but there's nothing unusual about that. He's always working. He works too much. I remember he looked especially tired and drawn that morning, and he got quite angry when he saw the girl. He probably hadn't slept a wink all night, and it can sometimes be discouraging when you have urgent cases needing attention and they bring in these people who've been shooting up on a Saturday night.'

'Do you think he should have been working if he was as tired as that?'

The woman pulled a face: the closest thing to a smile Ferrara saw from her. 'Professor d'Incisa has energy to spare, and he's famous for keeping a clear head. And anyway, this wasn't surgery'

'When they brought the girl in, was she still dressed?'

'I don't understand.'

'I'm sorry, I don't really know how these things work. Perhaps they'd already undressed her in emergency. I assume patients are given gowns to make things easier for the doctors.'

'No. There was no time to change her. We had to intervene urgently. They must have done it later, when she was admitted to the ward.'

Who would have done that?'

'The nurses on the ward.'

'Do you remember how she was dressed?'

'Of course. Like all young girls - jeans and T-shirt. Cheap stuff, though, the kind you find in a street market. Cheap jewellery, too. She must have been quite poor. A runaway, probably. No one ever came looking for her.'

'Do you get a lot like her?'

'More than we'd like to, and more than you'd imagine.'