The team had assembled in the situation room near the lab on the ground floor of the Questura.
Sachs and Flying Squad officer Daniela Canton had brought the evidence collected at the farmhouse near the organic fertilizer farm, and Beatrice Renza was completing her analysis. The evidence was here too from the factory in Naples, which had been dubbed by Daniela’s partner, Giovanni Schiller, Il Casa dei Ratti.
Spiro stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed. “Where is Ercole?”
Sachs explained that she’d sent him on another assignment; he would be back soon.
Rossi was on the telephone and when he disconnected, he explained that he had located the owner of the farmhouse, who’d rented the place to the Composer. He lived in Rome and had driven to Naples to meet an American, who had given his name as Tim Smith, from Florida. The owner confirmed he resembled the composite picture of the kidnapper. He’d paid cash for two months plus a bonus.
“A bonus,” Rossi said with a wink in his voice, “for riservatezza. Discretion, you would say. That’s not what the landlord said but it was what I understood. He supposed the man wanted a place for his mistress. He didn’t suspect a crime, he insisted. Of course he did but he hardly cared.”
The landlord had told Rossi he had none of the cash left—hence, no fingerprint possibility—but he did have a thought about the make of the man’s car. Though the renter had parked out of sight, the landlord had coincidentally driven off the main road to get to a restaurant outside town and gotten a look at an old dark-blue Mercedes. A quick search confirmed that the Michelin tire size was compatible with older Mercedes. Rossi put the notice out to all law enforcement agencies to look for such a sedan.
Farmhouse Outside of Caiazzo
—Dell Inspiron computer. —Passcode-protected, sent to Postal Police.
—Western Digital, 1 TB drive. —Passcode-protected, sent to Postal Police.
—Browning AB3 rifle, caliber: Winchester .270. —Serial number indicates stolen three years ago, private residence in Bari, probably sold on the underground market.
—Box of 23 Winchester .270 cartridges, two empty brass shells.
—Ballistics indicate same weapons used to fire at American detective Amelia Sachs and Officer Ercole Benelli at Capodichino refugee camp.
—Six E-note bass strings, one tied in a noose.
—Drives an older-model, dark-blue Mercedes.
—Four tire treads in driveway. —Michelin 205/55R16 91H (same as earlier scene), probably from the Mercedes.
—Pirelli model 6000 185/70R15.
—Pirelli P4 P215/60R15.
—Continental 195/65R15.
—Various items of clothing, some suspect’s, some from victims (see inventory). —Unable to trace purchase.
—Various items of toiletries (see inventory). —Unable to trace purchase.
—Food (see inventory). —Unable to trace purchase.
—Fodor’s guide to Italy. —Unable to trace purchase.
—Berlitz Italian phrase book. —Unable to trace purchase.
—List of victims, personal details, locations where they were to be held for videoing. (printout). —Ali Maziq.
—Malek Dadi.
—Khaled Jabril.
—Additional traces of olanzapine and amobarbital.
—Friction ridges: —Only the victims’. —Ali Maziq.
—Khaled Jabril.
—Areas in house seem to have been swept, alcohol used.
—Latex glove marks revealed throughout.
—Two dozen footprints, not matching any earlier. —Size 7? (m)/9 (f)/40 (European), leather sole.
—Size 10? (m)/13 (f)/45 (European), unknown running shoe, well worn.
—Size 9 (m)/10? (f)/43 (European), unknown style, probably hiking boot or running shoe.
—Converse Cons, as before—The Composer’s.
—Three others of indistinct size, two plain leather soles, one Rocky Lakeland hiking boot.
“Why all the footprints?” Spiro wondered aloud.
Rossi: “Some possible tenants looking at the rental, I would assume. And the victims. The Composer kept them there until he was ready to make his video. They might have walked to and from the car—even if they can’t remember it now.”
Rhyme sighed. “I hope one of those prints isn’t another vic. Just because a name wasn’t on the list doesn’t mean he hasn’t taken somebody else.”
Beatrice said, “It is so extremely curious, no fingerprints. None at all, excepting for the victims’. It is as if, as you say, Captain Rhyme, he wears the gloves in his sleep.”
Spiro scowled. “He makes it difficult at every turn.”
“Oh, no,” Rhyme said, “the absence of fingerprints is very good for us. Isn’t it, Sachs?”
She was staring at the chart. “Uh-hum.”
“How do you mean?” Rossi asked.
There was a voice in the doorway, “Ciao.” From Ercole Benelli, carting a trash bag with him.
Noting the Forestry officer was smiling at her, Sachs said, “Here’s the answer to your question, Inspector.”
Rhyme explained, “We had a case a few years ago. A professional hit man. We found his hidey-hole and there wasn’t a single print. He wore gloves all the time. But that meant he had to dispose of those gloves frequently—since, of course, they retain prints inside the fingers perfectly. He was unlucky enough to throw them out in a refuse bin two blocks from his place. We found them. We identified him. We caught him. I suspect that’s where Officer Benelli has been, searching trash bins.”
“Yes, yes, Capitano Rhyme.” He lifted the green plastic bag. “I found this in a bin behind an IP station—a petrol station—on the road between Caiazzo and Naples. I’m afraid I wasn’t successful as regards the gloves.”
He lifted three metal paint cans out of the bag and carefully set them on the table. Rhyme took one sniff and, smelling the astringent scent, scowled. “Methyl isobutyl ketone.”
“What is that?” Rossi asked.
In slow English, Beatrice answered. “It is being a solvent. Particular effective in melting latex.”
“Yes,” Rhyme said.
Ercole said, “There is simply a blue mess, sludge, you say? In the bottom. The gloves have dissolved.”
Spiro regarded the Forestry officer. “But you don’t look as upset as you might, given the news you have delivered. Are you being oblique intentionally? Do not be coy. Explain.”
“Yes, Procuratore. The trash bin that these cans were in had a lid on it, and I found no glove prints on the lid but some fingerprints. From, I hope, where he opened the bin to deposit the cans, never thinking we would find them.” He produced an SD card and handed it to Beatrice. She sat at the computer and called up the images. Ercole had used fingerprint powder—an old standby—to raise the images. They were all partials, some better than others.