Daniela said, “I’ll try.” She turned to Ercole and seemed suddenly to remember him, eyeing his gray Forestry Corps uniform. “Yes, from last night.”
“Ercole.” So her smile a moment ago was not one of recognition.
“Daniela.”
He didn’t dare offer his hand again. Just a cool-guy nod. A nod worthy of Silvio De Carlo.
Silence for a moment.
Ercole blurted, “You would like a water?”
And as if she didn’t know what mineral water might be, he gestured toward the inspector’s San Pellegrino, which stood open on the edge of the table.
And struck it, sending the liter bottle cartwheeling to the floor. Being carbonated, it evacuated most of the contents in seconds.
“Oh, no, oh, I’m so sorry…”
Rossi gave a chuckle. Daniela tilted a perplexed look toward Ercole, who crouched and began mopping furiously with paper towels he pulled from a roll in the corner of the room.
“I…” the blushing man stammered. “What have I done? I’m sorry, Inspector. Did I get any on you, Officer Canton?”
Daniela said, “It’s no harm.”
Ercole continued to mop.
Daniela left the situation room.
As Ercole’s eyes followed her, from his kneeling position on the floor, he noted someone else appear in the doorway. It was Dante Spiro, the prosecutor.
The man was looking past Ercole, as if the young officer were not even present. He greeted Rossi and examined the board. He absently slipped into his side pocket the leather book Ercole recognized from last night. He put away a pen too. He’d been jotting something in the volume.
Today Spiro wore black slacks and a tight brown jacket with a yellow pocket square, a white shirt. No tie. He set a briefcase on a desk in the corner, which apparently he had commandeered as his own, and Ercole guessed he would be a frequent visitor. The man’s office—Procura della Repubblica Presso il Tribunale di Napoli—was on the Via Costantino Grimaldi, across the street from the criminal courts. It was not far from the Questura here, a ten-minute drive.
“Prosecutor Spiro,” he said, still mopping.
A glance at Ercole, then a frown, wondering, clearly, who he was.
“Anything more, Massimo?” Spiro asked Rossi.
“Beatrice’s run the evidence. Ercole has written it up, along with his and my notes.” A nod at the paper on the easel.
“Who?”
Rossi gestured toward Ercole, who was dropping a soaked paper towel into the trash bin.
“The Forestry officer from last night.”
“Oh.” It was clear that Spiro had mistaken him for a janitor.
“Sir, I am pleased to see you again.” Ercole smiled but lost the grin when Spiro ignored him once more.
“What of the phone card?” Spiro asked.
“Postal said they should have information within the hour. And they are still monitoring the websites for video uploads. There has been nothing yet. And Ercole anticipates we should hear more from the Americans soon.”
“Does he now?” Spiro asked wryly. He took a cheroot from his pocket and slipped the end into his mouth. He did not light the stick. He gazed at the board.
Abduction, Bus Stop, Via del Frasso, Near Commune of D’Abruzzo
—Victim: —Unknown. Libyan or with Libyan connections? Likely North African. Refugee? Approximate age: 30–40. Light weight. Bearded. Dark hair.
—Perpetrator: —Witness didn’t see clearly, but possibly American, white male, early to mid-30s. Beard, long bushy hair. (Information from New York City Police Department.)
—Dark clothing, dark cap.
—Known as the Composer. (Information from New York City Police Department.)
—Checking flight manifests for travel to Rome, Naples. Elsewhere? Negative so far.
—Vehicle: —Dark sedan. Make and model unknown, but wheelbase consistent with large vehicle: American, German?
—Tire tread mark Michelin 205/55R16 91H.
—Physical Evidence: —Trace of human blood (AB positive), in sample of propylene glycol, triethanolamine, nitrosamines, sodium lauryl sulfate.
—DNA results, negative for matches in: —United Kingdom: National DNA Database (NDNAD).
—United States: Combined DNA Index System (CODIS).
—Interpol: DNA Gateway.
—Prüm Treaty Database.
—Italian National Database.
—Nitrogen compounds—ammonia, urea and uric acid—hydrogen, oxygen, phosphates, sulfates, carbon dioxide. As well as: C8H7N (indole), 4-Methyl-2,3-benzopyrrole (skatole), and sulfhydryl (thiol), suspended with paper fibers. Desiccated. Old.
—Decomposing bits of polymer cis-1,4-polyisoprene, thermoset (vulcanized). Translucent. Quite old.
—Bartonella elizabethae bacteria.
—Thirty-two hairs—animal. Dog shedding? Awaiting Scientific Police analysis as to what type of animal.
—Lead.
—Shavings of Fe (iron), rust on one side (see photo).
—Limestone.
—Phone card, purchased at Arrozo Tabaccaio, Naples. No CCTV, cash sale. —Awaiting analysis from Postal Police.
—Fingerprints: —No match in Eurodac, Interpol, Europol or Italy; IAFIS (America); Ident1 (UK).
—Footprints: —Victim apparently in Nike running shoes, size 42.
—Perpetrator apparently in Converse Cons, size 45.
—Blood, other fluid: See above.
—Cash, €11 and 30 dinars (Libyan).
—Miniature hangman’s noose, made out of a musical instrument string—probably cello. About 36 centimeters long. (Similar to noose in New York kidnapping, according to NYPD.)
—Witness Account: —Witness on bicycle was approaching the bus stop, where the victim was standing. He noted that the dark vehicle was parked nearby, about ten meters away at the side of the road. Behind bushes. Suspect was possibly waiting for the victim, or drove up and hid after victim arrived. Suddenly he assaulted victim. A struggle ensued. No observed provocation. Witness then departed to find police assistance. (Information on witness on file; see Inspector Rossi.)
—Canvass: No one, other than the bicyclist, saw the incident or a vehicle.
—CCTV: None for 10km radius.
—Reports of missing persons: None.
—No apparent Camorra or other organized crime connection.
—Possible ’Ndràngheta operative in area, but no connection to the kidnapping verified.
—No known motive.
—Americans will supply analysis from crime scene in New York City.
—Postal Police are monitoring YouVid, prepared to trace, if suspect uploads video of the victim.
“Beatrice has done her typically solid job,” Spiro said.
“Yes. She’s good.”
The prosecutor seemed to sway slightly as he stared at the writing. “What is that word?”
“Bacteria, sir.”
“I can hardly make it out. Write more carefully.” Then he scanned the photographs. Spiro mused, “So we have this American psycho who has come here on vacation to prey outside his usual hunting grounds. What patterns can we see?”
“Patterns?” Ercole said, smiling. He mopped a bit more water and rose.