The Lost Girls of Rome (26 page)

Obviously, they had seen it when they arrived. But Schalber was using the subject to gain time. He was trying to provoke Noni. He had a plan, although Sandra couldn’t yet understand what he was hoping to obtain.

‘Giorgia must have been proud of you.’

The mere mention of his sister’s name made Federico stiffen. ‘She was all I had left.’

‘What about your parents?’

He was clearly reluctant to talk about them, and quickly disposed of the question. ‘My mother left home when we were still young. My father brought us up. But he never got over her leaving him, he’d loved her too much. He died when I was fifteen.’

‘What kind of person was your sister?’

‘The most cheerful person I’ve ever known: nothing hurt her, and her mood was contagious. After the accident she took care of me. I knew what a burden I would become over the years and that it wasn’t right for her to take it on, but she insisted. She gave up everything for me.’

‘She’d been a veterinarian …’

‘Yes, and she also had a boyfriend. He dumped her when he realised the kind of responsibility she’d assumed. I know you must have heard this a hundred times, but Giorgia didn’t deserve to die.’

Sandra wondered what divine plan could possibly be behind the chain of tragic events that had destroyed the lives of two good young people. Abandoned by their mother, orphaned by their father, the brother confined to a wheelchair, the sister brutally murdered and killed. For some reason, what came into her mind was the girl David had met on the beach. That encounter after a whole series of mishaps – the lost suitcase, the double booking, the hire car breaking down a few miles short of the destination – could have ended differently. If that unknown jogger had found David even slightly interesting or attractive, he and Sandra might never have met, and there might now be another woman mourning him. Fate sometimes seemed really determined for things to work out in a particular way, a way that had some kind of meaning. But in the case of Federico and Giorgia Noni that meaning was elusive.

Federico tried to move the conversation away from these painful memories. ‘I don’t quite understand why you’re here.’

‘There’s a possibility your sister’s killer, Nicola Costa, may get a big reduction in his sentence.’

The news clearly upset him. ‘I thought he confessed.’

‘Yes, but apparently he’s now claiming insanity at the time of the murder,’ Schalber lied. ‘That’s why we need to prove that he was
always in full possession of his faculties. During the three assaults and above all during the murder.’

Federico shook his head and clenched his fists. Sandra felt sorry for him and upset about the way they were deceiving him. She hadn’t yet said a word, but her mere presence here supported every one of Schalber’s lies, so she felt complicit.

Federico looked at them, his eyes glowing with anger. ‘How can I help you?’

‘Tell us what happened.’

‘Again? It’s been a long time, my memory may not be what it was.’

‘We’re aware of that. But we have no choice, Signor Noni. That bastard Costa will try to distort the facts, and we can’t allow him to do that. It was you who identified him.’

‘He was wearing a balaclava, I only recognised his voice.’

‘That makes you our sole witness. You do realise that?’ Schalber took out a notebook and pencil, pretending that he wanted to write down every word.

Federico stroked his bristly beard. He took a few deep breaths, his chest rising and falling, as if he might hyperventilate. He started to reconstruct what had happened. ‘It was seven o’clock in the evening, Giorgia always came home at that hour. She’d been shopping, and had bought the ingredients for a cake. I like sweet things.’ He sounded apologetic, as if that was the reason for what had happened later. ‘I was listening to music on headphones. I didn’t pay any attention to her. She used to say I was becoming a slob, that she was prepared to wait for a bit but then she’d make damn sure I became more active … The fact is, I was refusing to do physiotherapy. I’d lost hope of ever walking again.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘All I remember is being thrown to the ground and passing out. The bastard had come up behind me and tipped my wheelchair over.’

‘Hadn’t you noticed that someone had got into the house?’

‘No.’

They had reached a critical point. From now on, the story would become more difficult.

‘Please go on.’

‘When I recovered consciousness, I was dazed. I couldn’t keep my eyes open and my back hurt. I didn’t understand straight away, but then I heard the screams coming from upstairs …’ A tear welled up, ran down his cheek and ended up in his beard. ‘I was on the floor, my wheelchair was five or six feet away, but it was damaged. I tried to get to the phone, but it was on a cabinet, and I couldn’t reach it.’ He looked down at his legs. ‘When you’re like this, even the simplest things become impossible.’

But Schalber was unmoved. ‘What about your mobile phone?’

‘I didn’t know where it was, and anyway I was in a panic.’ Federico turned to look at the stairs. ‘Giorgia was screaming and screaming … She was asking for help, begging for mercy, as if that bastard would give her either.’

‘And what did you do?’

‘I dragged myself to the stairs, and tried to climb them, using my arms to support me. But I didn’t have the strength.’

‘Really?’ Schalber gave a smug smile. ‘You were a trained sportsman. I find it hard to believe it could have been so difficult for you to get up the stairs.’

Sandra turned and glared at him, but he ignored her.

‘You don’t know how I felt after banging my head on the floor,’ Federico Noni retorted, his manner hardening.

‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’ Schalber said it without conviction, deliberately letting his scepticism shine through. He looked down and made a note. In reality, he was waiting for Federico to take the bait he had held out.

‘What are you getting at?’

‘Nothing, go on,’ he said with an irritating movement of his hand.

‘The killer escaped through a back door when he heard the police coming.’

‘You recognised Nicola Costa from his voice, is that right?’

‘Yes.’

‘You stated that the killer had a speech defect, which is perfectly compatible with his deformation.’

‘Yes, what of it?’

‘At first, though, you had taken the effect of his cleft palate for an Eastern European accent.’

‘It was you police who made the mistake, what does it have to do with me?’ Federico Noni was on the defensive now.

‘All right, goodbye.’ Taking Federico – and Sandra – by surprise, Schalber held out his hand to the young man and made as if to leave.

‘Wait a minute.’

‘Signor Noni, I have no time to waste. There’s no point being here if you won’t tell us the truth.’

‘And what is that?’

Sandra saw that Federico was quite shaken. She didn’t know what game Schalber was playing, but she took the risk of butting in. ‘I think it’s best if we go.’

Schalber again ignored her. He went and stood in front of Noni and started pointing his finger at him. ‘The truth is, you only heard Giorgia’s voice, not the killer’s. Forget about an Eastern European or a speech defect.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘The truth is that when you came to, you could have climbed up there and tried to save her. You’re an athlete, you could have done it.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘The truth is that you stayed down here, while that monster finished the job.’

‘That’s not true!’ Federico Noni cried, bursting into tears.

Sandra stood up, took Schalber by the arm, and tried to pull him away. ‘That’s enough now, leave him alone.’

But Schalber wouldn’t let go. ‘Why don’t you tell us what really happened – why you didn’t intervene to help Giorgia?’

‘I, I …’

‘What? Come on, be a man for once.’

‘I …’ Federico Noni was stammering through his tears. ‘I didn’t … I wanted …’

Schalber kept going. ‘Show me some balls, not like you did that evening.’

‘Please, Schalber,’ Sandra said.

‘I … I was scared.’

Silence descended on the room, broken only by Federico’s sobs. Schalber at last stopped tormenting him. He turned his back on him and headed for the door. Before following, Sandra stood for a moment looking at Federico Noni, who was shaking with sobs, his eyes bowed over his useless legs. She would have liked to console him, but she could not find the words.

‘I’m sorry for what happened to you, Signor Noni,’ Schalber said as he walked out. ‘Good day to you.’

As Schalber hurried to the car, Sandra ran after him and forced him to stop.

‘What were you thinking? You didn’t have to treat him that way.’

‘If you don’t approve of my methods, you can always let me work on my own.’

He was contemptuous of her, too, and she couldn’t accept that. ‘You can’t treat me this way!’

‘I told you: my speciality is liars. I can’t do anything about it, I hate them.’

‘Were we so honest in there?’ she asked, pointing to the house behind them. ‘How many lies did you tell? Or have you lost count?’

‘Haven’t you ever heard of the ends justifying the means?’ Schalber stuck his hand in his pocket, took out a packet of chewing gum and slipped one into his mouth.

‘And what was the end that justified humiliating a cripple?’

He shrugged. ‘Listen, I’m sorry Federico Noni has been dealt a bad hand by fate, he probably didn’t deserve it. But bad things happen to everybody, that shouldn’t absolve us of our responsibilities. You more than anyone should know that.’

‘Because of what happened to David, you mean?’

‘Precisely. You don’t use his death as an alibi.’

He chewed the gum with his mouth open, which jarred on her nerves. ‘What do you know about that?’

‘I know you could spend all your time crying and nobody would blame you. Instead, you’re fighting. They kill your husband, they
shoot at you, and yet you don’t give up.’ He turned his back on her and continued towards the car. It was starting to rain again.

Not caring if she got wet, Sandra waited where she was. ‘You really disgust me.’

Schalber stopped, turned and retraced his steps. ‘With his fake testimony, that little arsehole Federico Noni let an innocent man go to prison rather than admit that he was a coward. Doesn’t
that
disgust you?’

‘I get it. You’re the one who establishes who’s guilty and who isn’t. How long have you been working like that, Schalber?’

He snorted and waved his arms. ‘Listen, I don’t want to stand arguing in the middle of the street. I’m sorry if I was harsh, but that’s the way I am. Don’t you think I feel bad about David’s death? Don’t you think I feel partly to blame for not preventing it?’

Sandra fell silent. She hadn’t considered that. Maybe she had judged Schalber too hastily.

‘We weren’t friends,’ he went on, ‘but he trusted me, and that’s enough to make me feel guilty.’

Sandra calmed down, and when she spoke again it was in a reasonable tone. ‘What do we do about Noni? Should we inform anyone?’

‘Not now. We still have a lot to do. I think we can assume by now that the penitenzieri are looking for the real Figaro. We have to get to him before they do.’

3.53 p.m.

A persistent drizzle had slowed the Rome traffic. When he finally got to the park, Marcus stood at the gate for a few moments, thinking again about the email Zini had received.

He is not like you. Look in Villa Glori Park.

Who was the real Figaro? And who would the role of avenger fall to this time? The answer might be here.

Although not the biggest park in Rome, Villa Glori nevertheless covered some sixty acres: too large to explore in its entirety before
sunset. Not that he had any idea what he was supposed to be looking for anyway.

The message was addressed to a blind man, he thought. Therefore it must be an obvious sign, maybe an auditory one. But then he thought again: no, the message was addressed to the penitenzieri. The fact that it was sent to Zini was completely accidental.

It was meant for us.

He went through the large black gate and started up the slope: Villa Glori was on a hill. He immediately passed a foolhardy jogger in shorts and a waterproof jacket, followed by a boxer dog keeping perfect pace with him. It was starting to get cold and Marcus lifted the collar of his raincoat. He looked around, hoping that something would attract his attention.

Anomalies.

The vegetation was much thicker in Villa Glori than in Rome’s other parks. Tall trees stood out against the sky, creating strange interplays of light and shade. The undergrowth was made up of small shrubs and bushes, and the ground was covered in branches and dead leaves.

A blonde was sitting on a bench. In one hand she held an umbrella, in the other an open book. A Labrador was circling her restlessly. It probably wanted to play, but its mistress continued to ignore it, absorbed as she was in her reading. Marcus tried to avoid her eyes as he came towards her, but she looked up from her book, wondering perhaps if this stranger constituted a potential danger. He passed her without slowing down and the dog started following him, with its tail wagging. It wanted to make friends. Marcus stopped and let it come to him. He stroked its head.

‘Good boy, now go back to her.’

The Labrador seemed to have understood and turned back.

He needed to orientate his search somehow. It had to be concealed in the very nature of the place.

A wood with thicker vegetation than in the other parks in Rome. Not really ideal for picnics, but excellent for jogging or riding a bike … and perfect for letting your dog run free.

Dogs: that was the answer. If there’s something here, they must have scented it, Marcus told himself.

He climbed up the path that led to the top of the hill, carefully scrutinising the ground that lapped against the asphalt. After a hundred yards, he saw a kind of trail on the muddy ground.

A trail made up of dozens of paw prints.

They hadn’t been left by just one animal. Many dogs had come running here towards the wood.

Marcus left the main path and entered the shrubbery. The only sounds were the drizzle and his footsteps on the soggy leaves. He went on for about a hundred yards, trying not to lose sight of the paw prints, which, despite the recent storms, were still quite visible. That meant the dogs had come here over many days, one set of prints replacing another. But he still couldn’t see any sign.