Marco Vichi - Inspector Bordelli 04 - Death in Florence by Marco Vichi Read Free Book Online

than one person,’ the doctor said. Bordelli felt a stabbing pain in his stomach.
    ‘How many?’ he asked, trying to remain calm.
    ‘There were at least three … and don’t ask me if I’m sure.’
    ‘Why do you say
at least
? Usually you’re more precise,’ said Bordelli, exchanging glances with Piras. The police pathologist heaved a long sigh of forbearance before replying.
    ‘When analysing traces of sperm it’s possible to identify the blood type, and I found three blood types in the victim’s rectum. On the other hand, if ten different men of the same blood type had raped him, I would find only one blood type. And that is why I said
at least
…’
    ‘He was raped by at least three men,’ Bordelli said to Piras, momentarily covering the receiver. The Sardinian shook his head and grimaced in disgust.
    ‘Anything else?’ the inspector asked Diotivede.
    ‘An abrasion on the forehead, a bruised knee, a deep wound on the right thigh, caused after death, almost certainly by the shovel used to bury him. Under his fingernails I found carpet pile and a considerable amount of plaster dust, as if he’d dug a hole in a wall with his bare hands.’
    ‘Couldn’t that have happened at his house?’
    ‘Certainly … if his father’s a werewolf …’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Only tremendous fear can explain something like that. The fingernails are shattered.’
    ‘Like in the gas chambers …’ Bordelli muttered. He could still remember the films he’d seen of Auschwitz in which one could see the fingernail marks the dying Jews had made on the walls.
    ‘Now comes the best part.’ Diotivede sighed.
    ‘Let’s hear it …’
    ‘He has large traces of morphine in his blood.’
    ‘They drugged him …’
    ‘That’s what I just said.’
    ‘Sorry, I was talking to Piras.’
    ‘There’s nothing else,’ the doctor said.
    ‘It would be a big help if we knew what house to look in for scratches on the walls …’
    ‘I’ll send you the report before the end of the day.’
    ‘Better not say anything to the press, or anyone else, for that matter.’
    ‘Not a word will leave this room, unless the dead start talking,’ said the doctor.
    They said goodbye with a sort of grunt, and Bordelli dropped the phone on to its cradle.
    ‘Jesus fucking Christ …’ he muttered, pressing his fingertips into his eyelids. He repeated to Piras everything the doctor had just told him, including the part about the seminal fluid and blood types.
    ‘A bunch of perverts,’ the Sardinian said between clenched teeth, brooding. Was it easier to catch a lone maniac or a group of sadists? He didn’t know.
    Disappointed, the inspector crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray.
    ‘These things are totally useless if we don’t have a suspect.’
    ‘Maybe we’ll find one,’ Piras said by way of encouragement.
    ‘Please close the window,’ said Bordelli. He couldn’t stand feeling the humid air penetrating under his clothes any longer. Piras got up to close the window, and at that moment the telephone rang again. The inspector picked up the receiver with a sigh.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Your phone was always busy,’ said Rosa.
    ‘Did you reach Amelia?’
    ‘She absolutely refuses to see you, but I managed to persuade her to talk to you over the phone.’
    Rosa gave him the number. To judge by the first two digits, she must have lived in the San Gervasio area. Bordelli thanked Rosa and hung up. Though he no longer really felt like it, he rang Amelia at once. He told her the little boy had been found dead and heard her sigh.
    ‘Is that what you saw in the cards?’
    ‘Yes …’ Amelia said warily.
    Feeling embarrassed, Bordelli asked her whether she was willing to consult the tarot again about the matter, to see whether she could find out anything of use to the investigation.
    ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, but perhaps you haven’t really understood what the tarot is,’ said the fortune-teller in a faint, hoarse voice.
    ‘Well, I