Читать книгу Death Brings Gold - Nicola Rocca - Страница 14

CHAPTER 7

“What do you mean she’s at the spa?”

“A SPA is, like…” replied Bassani, “… a sort of wellness centre, Chief.”

“I know perfectly well what a SPA is,” Walker replied dryly. Then the tone of his voice mellowed. “Did you think I thought it was the Software Publishing Association?”

Bassani smiled, shaking his head.

Walker became serious again.

“What I meant was… what the hell is she doing in a SPA?”

“She must have gone there to relax, Chief. Maybe to have a break from her husband, since it looks like they were on bad terms.”

Walker nodded, remembering what Belmondo had told him about the marital instability between the victim and his wife.

“So,” the Chief Inspector considered, “Ghezzi’s wife is relaxing at a wellness centre. Sauna, Turkish baths, massage and other shit like that. All of this while her husband is resting peacefully at the morgue, after having been killed. Quite bizarre this thing.”

“Well, although a mortuary isn’t a wellness centre, at least it is a calm place. Where you certainly don’t get stressed” Bassani tried to joke about it.

“That was a good joke, detective. Unlike mine”, smiled Walker. “But now, let’s be serious again. The fact that this woman is unreachable could make her a suspect. Actually, the only suspect, at this moment.”

Bassani nodded without saying a word, allowing the Chief Inspector to continue.

“Who told you that Ghezzi’s wife is at a wellness centre?”

“After speaking with some people who knew her, one of her girlfriends told us.”

Bassani didn’t mention the identity or details of that person and Walker didn’t care to know.” And where is this wellness centre?”

“In a town in the region of Versilia, Chief.”

“So I can assume that it would be impossible to have her in my office today.”

“Exactly…”

“But I did say that in that case I would have wanted …”

The phone ringing cut the Chief’s sentence clean off . Before he could answer it, Bassani hurried to say he had called the place where Mrs Pilenga was staying.

“After introducing myself, I told them I needed to speak urgently with Mrs Pilenga. I gave them your extension. This should be her” Bassani concluded, nodding towards the receiver that kept on ringing. For once, he felt like he had done something right.

“State Police, Chief Inspector Walker speaking.”

On the other end of the line was the tense voice of the receptionist who, after having introduced himself, passed the phone to Mrs Pilenga.

“Hello?” the woman said, her anxiety tightening her throat.

The Chief Inspector introduced himself and, choosing his words carefully, informed her of the fate that had befallen her husband.

No reply.

After a time that seemed, according to Walker, sufficient to take in the news, he prompted Mrs Pilenga.

“Mrs Pilenga, are you still there?”

“This isn’t a joke, is it?” she asked faintly.

“It’s not a joke, Mrs Pilenga. My condolences.”

“Dead in our flat?”

“Yes, Mrs Pilenga,” confirmed Walker, not reminding her that she hadn’t lived under the same roof as her husband for some months.

“It’s impossi…”

Sobbing stopped her from finishing her sentence.

Walker waited until the sobbing diminished, then asked her to come to Police Headquarters as soon as possible.

“I should be back in Milan tomorrow,” the woman told him.

“Tomorrow will be perfectly fine.”

“I was supposed to leave in the early afternoon, but…” more sobbing in her voice, “… I will leave early tomorrow morning.”

The Chief Inspector told her he would expect her in the afternoon. Then, exactly when he was about to hang up, she mumbled something incomprehensible.

“Excuse me?”

“Can I know why you want to talk to me in person?”

Walker had expected that question. Nevertheless, he gave himself a couple of seconds before answering.

“Mrs Pilenga, your husband has been found dead, in rather unusual circumstances. And you are his wife. It seems more than reasonable for me to ask you some questions.”

“Unusual circumstances? What do you mean?” Mrs Pilenga asked in an agitated shrill voice

“I’m sorry, Mrs Pilenga, but I can’t provide any information over the phone. You’ll have to come to Police Headquarters.”

His tone of voice did not encourage a reply. The silence on the other end of the phone was a clear sign that she had got the message.

Walker re-confirmed the appointment for the following day, said goodbye, rang off and stood there listening to the sound of the interrupted dial tone, lost in his thoughts.

When he came back from the place he’d gone to, a new thought struck him: if the woman was in any way linked to the death of her husband, she hadn’t showed it at all. At least not from her voice. Only one more day and Walker would also read her body language. Then he could arrive at his most valid conclusions. He was trusting the same instinct that had many times before guided him to the right place.

“So?” asked Bassani.

“Tomorrow we’ll see if Mrs Pilenga has something to tell us.”

“Good,” said the detective, nodding. “Can I go now?”

“Just one minute, please, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

Bassani’s silence was an invitation for Walker to continue.

“I’ve been informed the necktie is the MODADUOMO brand. You know it, don’t you?”

“Who doesn’t know MODADUOMO, Chief?”

Walker nodded, smiling. Then he typed the brand name on his Smartphone and clicked on the link.

“Listen” he said. “Straight from Wikipedia. MODADUOMO.… well known fashion brand made in Italy… founded in Milan… production and sale of tailored, custom-made suits and accessories for men for over fifty years… blah, blah, blah… with branches throughout Italy. Since 2004 the well known brand has also been exported, opening over fifty stores across the world.”

When Walker finished reading, Bassani, looking disoriented, spoke.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me, Chief.”

Walker stared at him. The point perhaps eluding himself too.

“Basically we are dealing with a giant of designer fashion. The necktie found at the victim’s throat could have been bought anywhere.”

Walker stopped talking, giving himself time to reflect. It was when he noticed Bassani’s puzzled expression that he began to put forward his next question.

“I’m getting there, Chief,” Bassani said, interrupting with a fast movement of his hand.

Walker continued. “It would be almost impossible to track down the killer through that. O.K., it’s also true that the colour is not one of the most common ones. Did you get any idea of how many gold neckties MODADUOMO, in that exact model, have been sold around the world?”

Detective Bassani shrugged.

“Neither did I,” Walker admitted. “Although I believe that it must be a three-digit number. I’ll say it again, on our side we have that…unusual colour. Having said that, since we don’t have anywhere to start from, I would like to cling to that damn necktie. I plan to drop into one of these stores. Please get me the address of the main office and let the manager know about my upcoming visit. I’m going to have a little chat with him.”

“Will do, Chief.”

“Good, Bassani. That’s all. Thanks.”