The Deliverance of Evil (6 page)

“And did you speak only of God and works of charity, or did you do other things together, Mr. Bona?”

He ignored my tone. “Elisa was curious about everything; she wanted to know all about boats, about the wind and sails. I took her out and we talked a great deal. Or rather, I talked. She asked questions and listened.”

I could just see it: he carefree and assured at the helm, she reassured by his shyness on land. Valerio Bona was the only male friend possible for a girl like Elisa Sordi. A faithful little altar boy. But perhaps she hadn’t taken into account how, in the end, a friendship like that was impossible for an eighteen-year-old. However shy or awkward he was, he was still a young man with raging hormones.

“Did you see her often after that?”

“That summer we used to come to the beach on my moped and go out in the boat almost every day. Then we’d go for a walk, and at eight I’d take her home. Elisa’s parents wanted her home for dinner. They’re old-fashioned.”

“So there was nothing between you?”

“I already told you, we were good friends. Is that really nothing?” Now his hostility was stronger than his insecurity. I could make use of that.

“A close friendship with a beautiful young woman your age. Was that enough for you, Mr. Bona?”

He twisted the cap in his hands and skirted that direct question.

“Elisa wanted to earn a little money to help out her parents, so I gave her a hand.”

“Really? How?”

“I work for Count Tommaso dei Banchi di Aglieno. I mentioned her to him, and he mentioned her to Cardinal Alessandrini, who sent her to Dioguardi.”

Quite a paper trail. “And what do you do for the count?”

“I do some filing and I type his correspondence on his computer.”

I could hear in his tone that he didn’t like the count much. It was probably the only thing we had in common. I decided this was the moment to change the subject.

“Were you here for a regatta last weekend?”

He nodded to show he was.

“But Elisa Sordi wasn’t with you, was she? She had work to do.”

He nodded again.

“While waiting I checked the regatta calendar. I saw that you won, but the Sunday regatta was in the morning.”

“Yes, there are three heats: two on Saturday and the third on Sunday morning. Last Sunday I went to early Mass on my own, because Elisa had to work. Then I came here.”

“What did you do after the regatta?”

“I went straight back to Rome. The game was that evening. I didn’t want to get stuck in traffic coming back from the beach. I’m a big soccer fan.”

“Did you go to see Elisa Sordi?” I already knew part of his reply, because I knew what Gina had said.

He was hesitant.

“I called her at work from a pay phone at about half past one, as soon as I got to Rome. I wanted to have lunch with her, but she wasn’t there. She’d already left. So I hung around Via della Camilluccia and waited until she came back.”

“Did you look for her in the cafés in the area?”

“I just waited on the corner and watched for her to come through the green gate. I didn’t want that weird guy with the binoculars or Gina to see me. When I spotted Elisa I went up to her.”

“Did you arrange a meeting for later?”

“No, Elisa said she wouldn’t be done until six at the earliest. Then she had to go home to watch the game with her parents. They didn’t want her to be late.”

“But you could have waited for her and taken her home on your moped, seeing as you were neighbors.”

It was difficult to decide how much his unease was habitual and how much was due to the question.

“No, Elisa didn’t want me to wait for her.” He was now somewhere between scared and aggressive.

“Was she upset? Did you argue?”

“I couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to—”

It was time to go in for the kill.

“Maybe she was meeting someone else.”

He turned pale. I sensed his eyes were troubled behind the dark glasses, even though I couldn’t see them.

“She hadn’t arranged to meet anyone else,” he answered stubbornly, his hands now worrying the gold crucifix, as if God could help him.

“How can you be sure? Couldn’t she have been screwing around with someone without you knowing about it?”

This was too much even for someone as timid as Valerio Bona. “How can you talk like that about someone who’s just been killed?” he said, standing up.

I stood up as well, and I towered over him. “You’re right. I meant to say she could have been having sex with someone without you knowing about it. Is that better?”

He was both indignant and scared. “Elisa wasn’t that kind of girl—”

“Give me a break,” I said, interrupting him. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that about girls who then turn out to be total sluts?”

I hated myself a little for being so rough, but I wanted to see whether Valerio Bona was capable of attacking someone and striking them. He tried to land a punch, but I was too strong for him, and too quick. I grabbed his wrist with an iron grip.

“Don’t be stupid. I could arrest you for assaulting a public official.”

A good many people had stopped to look at us. Several sailors came menacingly close. I waved my badge.

“Keep your distance and mind your own business,” I ordered.

I was making him look bad on his home turf. I was doing it on purpose, because he was hiding something from me. I didn’t give a damn about the consequences for him—a pious little neurotic fixated on God, sailing and his computer, who locked himself in the bathroom to masturbate after talking to Elisa Sordi.

I let go of his wrist. “Now, tell me what you did last Sunday.”

Valerio Bona was shaking. “In the afternoon I went to the park in Villa Pamphili. I had an exam two days later; I had to study.”

“And you were there all afternoon?”

“Until seven forty five. The sun was going down, so I rode my moped home to watch the game with my parents and some relatives.”

“You didn’t see anyone all afternoon?”

“There weren’t many people in the park. I was completely alone with my books under a big tree.”

“And you got home just in time for the start of the game?”

“Just before. My cousins were already there.”

“And after the match you went out to celebrate?”

His face grew dark again. “They did, but I didn’t. I was worried about the exam. I wanted to get some sleep.”

“You stayed home alone? You, the big soccer fan?”

“Yes. I watched a few commentators talking about the game, and then I went to bed.”

I decided to leave it at that, even though his story was hard to believe.

“You mentioned a weird guy with binoculars. Who did you mean?”

“The count’s son. He spies on everyone from his balcony.”

“Do you know Manfredi?”

Valerio made a face.

“He usually keeps his helmet on so people can’t see his face. But three Saturdays ago I paid Elisa a surprise visit and found him there chatting with her. As soon as I got there, he found an excuse to leave. He didn’t say one word to me.”

“Did Elisa say what he wanted?”

“She met him outside in the courtyard a few months ago, one morning when it was raining. He had an umbrella, so he walked her from the gate over to Building B. Then he called her on the intercom around the time when she usually went and got a cappuccino in the bar. It was still raining, and he offered to walk her over again. I think he kept tabs on her with the binoculars and knew her schedule.”

“Could be. Did you say anything to Elisa?”

“Yes, but she didn’t think anything of it. She said he was always very polite and kind and every so often he came to the office to talk. She felt sorry for him.”

“Elisa never said whether he hit on her?”

“She was positive he’d never do anything like that, but I’m not so sure. A guy like that . . .”

Elisa Sordi had been either a naive, kind-hearted soul or a tease. If I hadn’t seen how embarrassed she’d been that day in Angelo’s office, I would have assumed the latter.

“Did you ever see Manfredi again?”

“Just once, in the courtyard. He was wearing his helmet. I was waiting for Elisa next to the fountain. I was smoking a cigarette. He came up and told me to go outside the gate if I wanted to smoke. He stood there next to his Harley-Davidson and waited for me to go outside. Then he left.”

“Did you see him on the balcony last Sunday when you were talking to Elisa?”

“I saw the reflection of his binoculars. He was spying on us.”

“How did your exam go, Mr. Bona?”

He grimaced.

“Elisa’s disappearance ruined my concentration. I withdrew.”

I nodded over to boat number twenty-two.

“But her death hasn’t affected your sailing abilities.”

He looked at me seriously.

“You don’t understand. The only time I stop thinking about it is when I’m on the boat.”

“And when you do think about it, what do you think?”

“That Manfredi’s dangerous,” he said, immediately regretting his words. “Well, I think . . . maybe . . . I mean, I don’t know.”

I left feeling strangely satisfied.

. . . .

I arrived at the rapid response team headquarters after three hours stuck in traffic. Teodori had told me to wait for him. Vanessa wasn’t there, so I went straight into his office.

On the desk sat a framed photograph of a teenage girl who was pretty enough, if a little chunky. She was wearing a lot of makeup. I knew that Teodori was separated from his wife and that he had an eighteen-year-old daughter named Claudia. A detective who had a daughter the same age as the murder victim. That might have helped Teodori understand the victim’s state of mind, but he was too afraid that he might disturb the illustrious guests on Via della Camilluccia to act on it. And Claudia Teodori was certainly very different from Elisa Sordi—you only had to look at the photo to see that.

The light on the phone blinked to indicate two messages. Years working for the secret intelligence service had taught me that any source was legitimate and every opportunity should be taken. The first message was from a woman.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Teodori, this is the Via Alba clinic. We would like you to come by as soon as you can to see your daughter and talk to the doctors. Good-bye.”

The second message was from a man.

“Teodori, Coccoluto here. I wanted to tell you not to worry. I’ve spoken to the public prosecutor and the judge. If we can find out who slipped her the pills she can plead a lesser charge.”

Coccoluto worked in juvenile crime involving drugs and alcohol. Now I knew why they’d chosen Teodori for this investigation. He could be blackmailed. His daughter must have gotten into big trouble. It would be hard to convince him to disturb the tranquility of Via della Camilluccia. However, there was one pathway open, even if it was a very narrow one. I left him a message saying I’d call him later in the office.

. . . .

I parked the Duetto and went up to Gina’s gatehouse, now occupied by her young daughter.

Five minutes later I was at the door of Building B penthouse. Father Paul, worried and much less his usual sparkling self, came to open the door.

Alessandrini sat at the same desk where I’d seen him the previous Sunday. He didn’t get up to shake my hand.

“Any news, Captain Balistreri?”

“Not at the moment. I’m here to ask for a helping hand.”

“Earthly justice isn’t my field, Captain.”

I decided that getting straight to the point was the best way with this man.

“You can help by allowing me to investigate this little corner of paradise.”

I caught Paul’s glance at the Cardinal. Alessandrini gave me a serious stare.

“And you think you need my permission? It appears to me that you’re doing a fine job upholding the Italian state’s freedom from the Vatican’s shackles all on your own. However, you can ask me anything.”

“There’s also Building A,” I said.

Alessandrini took off his glasses and massaged his temples, smiling.

“I imagine Chief Superintendent Teodori wouldn’t approve of this conversation.”

“If you want Elisa Sordi and her parents to get justice, you have to help me investigate. The girl worked for the Vatican. You have every right—”

The cardinal interrupted me with a gesture. “As you’ve seen, I have no problem getting the police involved. But that isn’t the point. Elisa’s body was found by the river. She’d left the office.”

“She likely knew the killer. The river’s too far to walk from here. Elisa must have gone there in a car or on a motorcycle. No one saw or heard a thing. Surely if she’d been kidnapped by a stranger she would have screamed.”

“Even so, she had friends in her neighborhood, school friends—there are thousands of possible suspects,” objected Alessandrini.

“I agree. But that would require her running into one of them. Dioguardi told Elisa only the night before that she’d have to work on Sunday, and until he and I came to your apartment, no one knew when she’d be able to leave.”

Alessandrini was silent for a moment. “Very well. I’ll see to it that you can question everyone so that you can clear away even the slightest suspicion. But the count won’t be happy. You’ll see.”

“Thank you. We need to question everyone who lives or works here, including you, Your Eminence.”

Alessandrini was silent for a while. Then he spoke.

“You want to know my whereabouts on Sunday after we left here with you and Angelo? As you’ll recall, I took a taxi at six twenty. I entered the Vatican at six thirty. I went to pray in a chapel below the offices, where I remained for about an hour.”

“Were you alone?” I asked. For some reason this powerful man didn’t unnerve me. The difficult question came out lightly, easily.

“There are no witnesses who can confirm I was there. I came out of the Vatican toward eight, and that is recorded. I was here at home by about ten past eight, in time to see the game. Count Tommaso was parking his car precisely as I was exiting the taxi. We waved to each other from a distance. He was in a hurry, presumably because he had guests.”

“Was his wife with him?”

The cardinal thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Before the game started I walked out onto the terrace. Rome was deserted by then. I saw Manfredi arrive on his motorcycle at eight fifteen.”