City of Devils: A Novel (27 page)

‘Ausano had his face and hair removed.’

‘Cause of death?’

‘Soldati was garrotted. Mancini had his throat cut and Ausano was hit over the head several times with a blunt instrument.’

‘It is interesting that different methods are used for each crime. Other repeat killers seem to keep to the same one,’ James said.

‘Examples?’ Lombroso asked.

‘I read of a case in America where a number of servant girls were killed with an axe. In England, Dr Palmer of Rugeley used poison,’ James replied.

‘You are right, Murray,’ Lombroso agreed. ‘And of course Eusebius Pieydagnelle from Milan – he killed at least six people with the same method.’

‘Was he not obsessed with the smell of blood?’ Ottolenghi said. ‘I seem to remember Oskar Reiner dealing with the case in a paper on lust murder. He suggested that white males commit most such crimes.’

‘Indeed,’ Lombroso said. ‘That is interesting but these can hardly be described as lust killings. Now, Tullio, have you had an opportunity to view the bodies close up?’

‘No, only Machinetti and Dr Gallini, the pathologist have examined them in detail,’ he replied.

‘Gallini, that drunken fool,’ Lombroso groaned. ‘Do you think you can get us access, Tullio, without the marshal finding out?’

‘I will try,’ he replied. ‘By this afternoon they will all be in the city morgue. Machinetti has not released them for burial yet.’

Lombroso nodded his approval. ‘Good. I will examine them myself. I need to look at them all in more detail and we must find out if there are any connections other than the letters and the fact that they were all known to me.’

‘These are both clear links, Professor,’ Ottolenghi said. ‘But why should anyone claim these killings as a tribute – and why to you?’

‘Naturally, I have thought very carefully about that. There are only two possible answers, to my mind. Either this person has some kind of twisted admiration for me or they are trying to discredit me.’

‘Love or hate . . .’ James murmured.

‘Indeed, Murray, well put. The trouble is that I cannot think of anyone who loves or hates me to such a degree that they would kill in order to get my attention.’

‘You have no enemies or admirers?’ Tullio asked incredulously.

‘I have both but they are not the kind of people who would go to such extremes, I can assure you.’

‘What if it is someone who is insane?’ James asked. ‘You may not even know them but in their fevered mind they wish you ill.’

‘Or they admire you and want to demonstrate their allegiance,’ Ottolenghi added.

Lombroso furrowed his bushy brows and nodded thoughtfully. ‘There are, of course, many kinds of insanity. But I think you may be right in a general sense. These are not the actions of someone in sound mind. The fact that the note is written in blood, for example, indicates a need for attention, common in the insane.’

‘Are the notes written in the victim’s blood or the killer’s?’ Tullio asked.

‘If only we could know for sure,’ Lombroso replied, ‘but I think it is more likely to be the victim’s. There is an ample supply, after all. However, it depends on what kind of a person we are dealing with. If he takes pleasure in being hurt or abused as well as inflicting such tortures then I suppose it could be his own blood.’

‘The note left with Soldati was in a neat hand. It did not look as if it had been written at the scene,’ Ottolenghi said.

‘Well, there we are. That indicates he probably used his own blood so it seems we are looking for a person who enjoys both giving and receiving pain,’ Lombroso said. ‘Let me see the latest note, Tullio.’

Tullio fished it out of his pocket and handed it to Lombroso who looked at it briefly before handing it to James. ‘Tell me, Murray, what would Dr Bell make of this?’

James looked at the note with care. ‘It looks almost identical to the first one. It is neatly written. Indeed, the handwriting is almost too neat – uniform, even.’

‘What does that tell you, Murray?’ Lombroso asked.

‘I think it is at least possible that it may have been disguised.’

Lombroso nodded enthusiastically. ‘Ah, so this is an organised killer, the kind of person who plans crimes with great care. This is a special kind of lunacy, mercifully rare.’

‘A killer with some kind of mission, perhaps,’ James suggested.

‘Indeed, Murray, and we need to find out the nature of that mission.’

‘A strange sort of man to be looking for,’ James remarked.

Lombroso paused and stroked his beard, as he always did when thinking.

‘What makes you so sure it is a man? Women kill too. We should not jump to any hasty conclusions.’

‘Would a woman have the necessary strength to commit these crimes?’ Tullio asked.

‘Ah, an excellent question! What do you think, Murray?’

‘I think it is unlikely, Professor. A woman would not possess the physical strength, in my view.’

Lombroso looked at him. ‘I agree that it would be unusual but we must consider the possibility.’

‘Well,’ James said slowly, ‘a garrotte has the element of surprise and Soldati was not a young man. I suppose if the woman was tall enough and had sufficient muscular development in her upper arms, she might be able to manage it. The mutilation though . . . I would argue that it does not seem to me to be the work of a woman. It would take a lot of physical strength.’

‘Again I agree, Murray, but it is not impossible and we must examine the unexpected as well as the likely, if only to exclude it, as no doubt Dr Bell taught you. What about the other killings?’

‘The second victim had his throat cut, and was then mutilated, possibly before death,’ Tullio said.

‘Well, that is uncertain,’ Ottolenghi said. ‘It could have been just after. Presumably we only have the word of Dr Gallini that it was otherwise and he is hardly reliable. He’ll say anything to impress Machinetti.’

‘Hmm, I do not think we should pay much attention to the view of anyone who thinks it is necessary to impress the marshal,’ Lombroso commented cuttingly.

Tullio ignored this and went on. ‘Assuming he was bludgeoned first or that again there was an element of surprise, then a woman could have killed Mancini.’

‘And Ausano too – so again we cannot rule out the hand of a woman,’ Ottolenghi said, ‘though she would have to have been unusually strong.’

‘There are plenty of women with that kind of strength. Serving girls, washerwomen and the like,’ Tullio said. ‘You have only to wander round the Porta Palazzo market to see that.’

Lombroso nodded. ‘So you see, gentlemen, we should not be too hasty to exclude the possibility of a female killer, however disturbing we may find the idea.’

‘But what kind of a person, male or female, would do such a thing?’ James asked.

Lombroso had got up by now and was pacing around the room. He studied the blackboard that James had been dutifully filling with the information they had discussed. He started to mutter to himself. The three young men looked at each other and Ottolenghi shrugged. It looked as if genius was at work and none of them felt ready to interrupt. Eventually Lombroso stopped and turned to them.

‘We have already discussed the idea that the perpetrator of these crimes must be insane but I do not think we are looking for a drooling madman here. There are, throughout history, men and women who commit violent crimes without a hint of remorse. Such people when questioned are often quite amazed to discover that other people have feelings.’

‘So is this the sort of person we are looking for, Professor?’ Tullio asked.

‘Well, that is difficult to say. The evidence suggests that the killings are very much pre-meditated. These do not seem to be chance encounters and the victims all have underworld connections, which is interesting.’

‘And of course they are all connected to you, Professor,’ James said.

‘Indeed, that is so, which indicates a high level of organisation, does it not?’

They all nodded.

‘This killer is not a born criminal, it seems to me,’ Lombroso said. ‘Quite the contrary, in fact. His madness has grown from some event that has happened to him in the past.’

‘How will we know this killer? What physical characteristics might he possess?’ Tullio asked eagerly.

‘If this is an habitual killer, then the eyes would be cold and perhaps bloodshot, the nose will be aquiline or at least large, the jaw strong and the lips thin with well-developed canine teeth. The hair will be abundant and, if it is a man, the beard will be scanty,’ Lombroso replied.

James stared at him in wonder. How could he possibly know what the killer looked like? It was almost as if he knew who it was.

‘Is this definitely a case of one killer committing all of these crimes?’ Ottolenghi asked.

‘I would say so,’ Lombroso agreed. ‘They seem too similar to suggest otherwise and I gather that Machinetti has kept all mention of the note out of the newspapers which would indicate that this is not a case of someone copying the killer.’

Tullio confirmed this and went on, ‘One of the questions that we need to explore is this. Why does he choose these particular victims?’

This had been puzzling James and he waited with interest for Lombroso’s comments.

There was an awkward pause. The answer hung in the air, a truth that no one wanted to acknowledge. Lombroso sighed, his words filling the uncomfortable silence.

‘As I said earlier, I believe that they died because of their connection to me,’ he said sadly. ‘I can think of no other reason.’

‘We also need to know how the murderer knew of the connection,’ James added.

‘Yes indeed,’ Lombroso agreed.

‘How do you select your subjects, Professor?’ Tullio asked.

‘They are mostly chosen for me by whoever is in charge of the institution in which they are incarcerated,’ he replied.

‘And if they are not incarcerated?’ Tullio asked.

‘They usually approach me.’

Ottolenghi nodded. ‘It is well known amongst the criminal classes that the professor requires subjects for his experiments and that he pays well. Also . . .’ Ottolenghi paused and looked at James.

‘Go on,’ Tullio urged.

Ottolenghi continued. ‘Also, Sofia has certain contacts.’

James looked at him and wondered why he had mentioned her. Did he think that Sofia could be involved in some way? He thought back to the evening that they had found her in La Capra. Could it really be no more than a coincidence? And what of her connections to Rosa Bruno and Reiner?

Lombroso took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, wearily. ‘I do feel responsible. The killer wants my attention. We need to find out why.’

‘Perhaps the bodies will tell us more,’ Ottolenghi said.

‘Indeed. When can I see them, Tullio, do you suppose?’ Lombroso asked briskly.

‘Machinetti has a meeting with the mayor this afternoon, so he will not be an obstacle,’ he replied.

‘
Eccellente
,’ Lombroso beamed, having shaken off his melancholy. ‘Let us meet then. Now, though, I will take my leave of you, gentlemen. I am a little tired. Tullio, we will see you later.’

They all went their separate ways; Lombroso to his study in order to think and doze a little, Tullio to the security police headquarters and Ottolenghi and James to an upstairs laboratory to measure the Madagascan skulls. All of them, though, had little else on their minds other than the murders. James was excited, although he felt slightly guilty for feeling so. At last the real hunt for the killer was underway. But at the back of his mind he was also fearful. He had come to Turin on a quest for certainty but all he had experienced to date was the direct opposite. No one was as they had first appeared and secrets were everywhere. Not for the first time in his life he felt that there was no one that he could really trust. There was a killer at large and it could be almost anyone.

14

Religion, which tends to preserve ancient habits and customs, certainly perpetuates the practice of tattooing.

Lombroso, 1876 p 60

A few hours later they entered the city’s morgue, a suitably dark and forbidding building attached to the university’s pathology department. All the bodies had been assembled in the high-ceilinged room. As James looked up at the two tiny windows which let in a small amount of light, he thought that they looked like eyes peering down at the poor unfortunates who lay on the slabs before them. Lombroso approached the nearest of these and pulled back the sheet that covered the corpse. It was that of Giuseppe Soldati. The professor began to examine the body, pulling it this way and that, prodding and peering at it through his little wire glasses. At first Ottolenghi and James kept their distance, not wishing to get in the way. Tullio stood at the door, keeping a lookout.

Lombroso beckoned them over impatiently. ‘Come, come, gentlemen. This is no time to be squeamish.’

They went over to the corpse and looked on. After a few minutes of various muted but interested noises Lombroso stood back and sighed.

‘Have you found anything, Professor?’ James whispered.

‘Perhaps, but you must be patient. Rome was not built in a day! Now, Tullio, show me the next one, if you please.’