SALVE ROMA! A Felidae Novel - U.S. Edition (19 page)

The bodies were still partially covered with dirt, decayed and oozed a sickening sweet scent. At some of them worms, germs and decomposing gas had made amazing progress. Between yellow shimmering bones, extensively burst sections on the backs and stomachs by now offered sheer obscene insights into inner organs, which partially were barely existent anymore, partially still well »inhabited«! Leaked eyeballs, that dripped from the orbits like transparent wax, scalps along with fur, which had scaled off partially and revealed cranial bones, torn open mouths with blackened ivories ... Given this horror everything whirled around me like the clappers, just as if I had been sitting inside a spin top. The same seemed to go for the others.

But although I felt so bad and I was close to let the inside of my stomach see the sunlight again, the organ of curiosity gave some witty thought about the tableau of horror: 1. The killer of the Siamese at the Largo Argentina and the killer of these brothers and sisters here must be one and the same person. As even though the decay of the body was far advanced, it couldn’t hide the butchers gross signature feature. The hearing aids of all bodies had been completely removed at one side. The worms must have fulsomely taken a call at this discovery, as they were able to get
to the tasty brain right away.

In contrary to the dead Siamese the newly found victims showed a tiny and yet very important difference though, one that only occurred to someone, who had really gotten to the bottom of the incident: 2. In regard to the »deseeding« the killer apparently had been in the early stage of his crimes. Let’s call it »the rough period«. The much clumsier manner of surgical intervention proved this assumption: some skulls were half-open, some even totally wrecked. So could it be that Signore X had wildly and maybe unsuccessfully experimented in Vatican City at the beginning of his project? And one step further: Could it be that he first wanted to gain surgical skills before he turned the removing of hearing aids into a career? 3. Although Vatican City was a secret kingdom hidden in itself, he had dared to entrust the great butchery and his experiments with the other clerics. In the history of Christianity animals had always played an ambivalent
role.
 
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5
)
By now the great atonement was the order of the day even in this relationship, so he had rather kept his crimes to himself and had buried the victims in the park. But where did he move his experiments after that? According to the phase of decay of the bodies, he must have changed his o
peration room about a year ago.

»What is happening here, in God’s name?« I suddenly heard a bass voice behind my back. When I turned my head and saw a snow-white Persian walk along the lawn, I began to doubt about if I should actually be glad that I found Miracolo under these circumstances. I only knew about the racial characteristic from Sancta but now that he stood right in front of me,
I immediately knew who he was.

He looked as if someone had pressed a ton of cotton into a hydraulic press and had then condensed it to a construct of the size of an arm’s length. Everything about him looked constrained: the tiny ears, which totally got lost in the blown-dry looking fur, the blue little eyes, the very short nose, that had a deep dent between the eyes, the miniature limbs, which only enabled him to scamper, the bushy tail, simply everything! Had a crazy sorcerer turned a peek into a Felidae, the result wouldn’t have been much different. The only impressive thing about Miracolo was this fluffed appearance, which was caused by overwei
ght and that explosion of hair.

»We came across an old cemetery at this place, Excellency«, Pius said, who also wasn’t an adornment belong his breed. His voice sounded as if a blunger had sampled the sound of a toilet flushing and f
ormed words from this material.

»Don’t you talk silly, Pius!« the piebald sitting next to me barked. »Don’t you see that these poor wretches were killed and then hidden in the ground? Even inside of a pea more brains can be found than inside your stupid head.«

»
Silencium!
« Miracolo said and stepped into our circle. »I don’t tolerate ra
nting and raving at this place ...
«

The hair meatloaf’s lower jaw flapped down when his eyes met the unbelievable, that we had already studied well enough. The tiny eyes bulged from the dense cotton swabs, a
nd he uttered a pressed groan.

»Holy Mary, Mother of God, help us! Holy
Mary, Mother of God, help us ...«
he kept moaning. He was sincerely shocked, yeah, one could really see how razor-caused wounds gaped inside him. He began to weep bitterly. The others also got bleary eyes, and gave full scope to their grief. In the end a heartbreaking sobbing raised above the dead, which lasted for a long time and reminded of a chorale. I was a little embarrassed of my recent thoughts, which hadn’t exactly shown sympathy for Miracolo. Each of us must live as he sees fit, and if someone chose faith for his own fulfillment, what was wrong with that? Fooey, Francis!

»
Il diavolo!
« Miracolo finally said after he had calmed down a little and had wiped away the tears. By now the others had adapted themselves to His Excellency’s mood and gazed into space with sole
mn faces. Nobody made a sound.

»
Il diavolo
rose from hell, o my dear brothers and sisters!« he boasted unctuously and rolled his tiny eyes. »This is the work of the devil. Because nobody would raise his paw against the other in such a brutish way. And no human would be capable of laying hands on us this harmfully. This is
il diavolo
!«

»I once knew a poodle whose master was called Sebastian Devil«, Pius tossed in and rolled out a tongue that was so long that it could easily host a tug war. »I guess you’re not talking about him, are you?«

»Reserve yourself with your stupid remarks, Pius, while His Excellency is ta
lking!« the piebald ranted.

»Excuse me, dear community«, I said and rose. By now I felt steady enough to add a little secularistic logic to the issue. »The offender is a devil indeed. Whether he has horns on his head and trails a cloven hoof is pretty doubtful though.«

»You contradict His Excellency
?« the piebald asked
cantingly
.

»Not exactly«, I replied. »It’s just that the evil has many faces. It has the power of shape shifting, I mean, it can invade even the best soul and exploit it for its noxious purposes.«

»Sapiently spoken, my son!« Miracolo called out. I didn’t really want to add the question, who actually was to call whom his son to the already complicated devil-issue.

»What is your name?«

»Francis.«

»O Francis – you have the name of a saint! What brings you here, my son, and what are your thoughts on this tragedy?«

Meanwhile I had lost count of how often I had told my story within the last twenty-four hours. But denying it to the pet of pope of all people would have been pretty indecent. Thus, I started with Gustav’s phone call from Rome and ended with the gathering at St. Peter’s Square. Of course I left out the hot encounter with Sancta, as I wasn’t sure of how this kind of sensuous delight wou
ld come across with this group.

Due to the smell we had given ground to the mass grave by now, and in our small group we strolled to a small chapel close by. At its door, so I was told, the food for the feline members of Vatican City would be served on the noblest china, punctual to the minute. Miracolo invited us all for a funeral party. Only Pius was left with the dead, a giant with a giant vacuum inside his head, incapable of getting the world
, yet literally in God’s hands.

The chapel that we approached was downright sensationally plain, compared to all the bombast around us. She had rather fit in a Sicilian village with only a couple of inhabitants in the middle of bleak landscape than in an area that had been grafted by the greatest artistic geniuses, sometimes on pain of excommunication. It actually looked like a scrubby farmhouse with a plain cross on the roof. I assumed that it belonged to one of the first Christian churches, which had either been miraculously preserved for centuries or had
been laboriously reconstructed.

»So you’ve come to Vatican City just because my name is Miracolo and exactly this word has been dropped at the theosophists’ meeting, my son?« the Persian asked. I got the faint idea that it wasn’t the tradition of the wake but hunger that urged him to go to the chapel. The brothers and sisters who accompanied us hung on his every word as if he was about to disclose the secret of Christ’s Shroud of Turin - wi
th the piebald leading the way.

»Yes and no, Excellency«, I replied. »On one hand I got tied over this word so much, that it literally electrified me when I learned from Sancta that one of our own volition is called like that. On the other hand my unmistakable instinct told me that if such a miracle really exists, it must be hidden here in Vatican City. Turned out, I was right only partially. I didn’t find any hidden miracle, just bodies in a hidden grave.«

»You shouldn’t be deterred by this horrifying find, Francis. God moves in mysterious ways, but in the end He always leads to the truth.«

»I hope so, Miracolo«, I said and noticed that bit by bit dawn descended upon us. A long way away the antique pink silhouette of the St. Peter’s Cathedral
stood out from the golden sky.
Flocks of birds fluttered around the dome like angelic hosts. On the horizon bluish-gray fields of clouds slowly gathered to giant levels, and some fresh wind sprang up. It was to be feared that we were about to get a comfortless night and some stormy May rain. But right now the park that we crossed still looked lik
e every blade in it was ablaze.

»I know this question is a waste, Excellency, but did you notice something at this place during the last year what might have indicated these crimes?«

»Of course not!« Miracolo was indignant. His walk received something defiant. Maybe I should have approached this a little more diplomatically. »And if there had been anything, we certainly would have done something against it. We might look like a bunch of bigots, but when it comes to our own lives and that of our kind, we gladly remember our sharp claws!«

»I gladly confirm this«, the piebald horned in again. »The padres and the other clerks really spoil us. But it is not only luxury that makes us stay here. No, here we are close to God, every one of us feels that. This doesn’t mean that we’re unworldly and don’t notice when somebody goes for one of our throats.«

»Okay«, I said. »Then on to the usual questions: did you know the victims?«

»Not all of them, but a couple «, the piebald replied.

»The same applies to me«, Miracolo said. »But it is not like I muster everyone in the mornings. Besides, nobody is forced to stay with us. Fluctuation within the community isn’t high, but there is still some. We don’t keep ringing the Cathedral’s doorbells though when someone from our midst said goodbye without cause.«

»Did everyone see one of the victims hang out with someone suspicious before he or she disappeared from the community and therefore from the daily routine at Vatican City for good?«

Everyone shook his or her head ... Almost everyone.

»Yes, I did!«

The whole group stopped so sudden as if they had bumped against an invisible g
lass panel. I was no exception.

»Who said that?
«
I wanted to know, and Miracolo also swung his head back and forth as if
il diavolo
had appeared on the lawn in person. A chocolate-brown sister with copper eyes eventually stepped out
of the cortege and came to us.

»As a matter of fact, I saw a suspicious figure with four of the victims at different times «, she said, after she had introduced herself as Blixa. »Of course not even in my worst dreams I would have connected this to murder back then.«

»Great, Blixa, obviously you have great observation skills. What kind of a human was it?«

»It wasn’t a human being, it was one of our fellows!«

Uhhs and OMGs of astonishment and disbelief made the circuit, and some weird sou
nds wrested even from my grasp.

»A fellow? But how ...«

Blixa seemed to be the
only one who kept a cool head.

»All victims-to-be met the stranger in the Bernini Colonnades at the Piazza San Pietro. The stranger always talked insistently to his new acquaintances. Sometimes they burst out in a roar of laughter. They seemed to like each other. And eventually they disappeared between the columns. Without hurry, more like strolling, just as if they had just become friends for life.«

And now for the price question.

»And what did the stranger look like?«

The chocolate girl cleared her throat
and shook her had regretfully.

»No, that was the point: I always saw his silhouette only, a very dark silhouette, a pitch-dark shadow. But I would say young, slim and with extremely smooth moves. By the way, don’t get me wrong: I have never seen this figure becoming violent. So only God knows if he really is the killer of the poor souls in the mass grave.«

»You can bet your head on that, Blixa!« I yelled, as I just totally boiled over now. I was upset with the tricky situation, with myself because I – as it turned out – didn’t make any progress, most of all with this blood thirsty bastard though, who even in a construct of theories always found a loophole. I didn’t even know his motive. Maybe I was upset with God, who didn’t even manage to save us from such nam
eless horror in his own state.