Read Online River of Shadows: A Commissario Soneri Mystery (Commissario Soneri 1) by Valerio Varesi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Valerio Varesi
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happened before?”
“Never.”
“Did they say who they were?”
“No. A man. From the voice it seemed he was an older person.”
“Did he seem to you to belong to these parts?”
Claretta stood thinking, as though she were unsure of the precise answer to give. “He spoke dialect perfectly, but he didn’t speak good Italian.”
“That can happen with people who hadn’t been to school all that much.”
“No, I mean he spoke Italian with a foreign accent.”
“What do you mean, foreign?”
“I’m not sure. Spanish, perhaps.”
“And what did he say?”
“That he was looking for my uncle.” After a pause, Claretta was more precise. “But he didn’t say straightaway that he was looking for Anteo Tonna. He said he was looking for ‘Barbisin’.”
“And who is ‘Barbisin’?”
“It was a nickname they used to give my uncle in the past.”
Someone opened a window, allowing in a gust of wet wind. The woman shivered as though she had been struck a blow, and went behind the bar to serve a customer who had just come in. The commissario’s mobile rang. He left the bar, saying good-bye with a wave, and waited until he was in the middle of the street before pressing the answer button. Juvara shouted out “Hello!” a couple of times without hearing anything in reply. Soneri cursed the machine and had to move to another corner of the piazza to get a signal.
“Boss, I haven’t really got much to report. Decimo Tonna really and truly did live on his own. His neighbours saw him come and go, but he only ever exchanged the time of day with them. He did his shopping at the supermarket and never went to the local bar. I’ve also heard that some social workers went to see him a couple of times, but he chased them away.”
“Does the parish priest know anything about him?” the commissario said. More and more frequently the priests were the only ones you could turn to. And more and more frequently, they knew nothing either. “Check the files on the two Tonnas. They were once Fascists …”
“That’s nearly fifty years ago,” Juvara said.
Soneri thought this over for a few moments until he heard the ispettore repeat again: “Hello, hello?”
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, closing his mobile without saying good-bye.
He walked a little way with myriad thoughts churning in his head, and only after a minute did he realize that what he was experiencing was the overture to a thoroughly bad mood. He felt he was caught up in twin cases but was incapable of disentangling from either any workable lead or even the outline of a hypothesis to work on. Meantime, he found himself confronting the silent faces of the Tonna brothers whom he had never seen alive. The only one he had seen was Decimo under the special white sheet used for corpses, with only the white of his eyes visible and blood trickling from his mouth in the graceless grin of death.
In one of the narrow streets, the mobile rang again.
“So you’re not drowned.” It was Angela.
“Not yet, but don’t lose hope. The river’s still rising.”
“Why not throw yourself in, seeing you’re so keen to be there.”
“I’m afraid of drowning in the dark. Anyway, I’ve just eaten.”
“That’s the one thing you’ll never forget to do.”
“Christ, Angela, I’ve only just got here. And I can’t make head nor tail of the business.”
“O.K., Commissario, you do your investigating. And when you come back, bring me a little something.”
“It’s so much easier for you lawyers: you play about with words, you pull down and build on the facts other people have dug up for you.”
“Don’t play the victim,” Angela said. “I’d like to see you plunge every day into that tank of alligators called a courtroom. I have colleagues who would sell their mothers for a handful of coins.”
“Could anyone be worse than a murderer?”
“Have you any idea what happened to the barge?” she said, her mood becoming more cheerful.
“No,
“Never.”
“Did they say who they were?”
“No. A man. From the voice it seemed he was an older person.”
“Did he seem to you to belong to these parts?”
Claretta stood thinking, as though she were unsure of the precise answer to give. “He spoke dialect perfectly, but he didn’t speak good Italian.”
“That can happen with people who hadn’t been to school all that much.”
“No, I mean he spoke Italian with a foreign accent.”
“What do you mean, foreign?”
“I’m not sure. Spanish, perhaps.”
“And what did he say?”
“That he was looking for my uncle.” After a pause, Claretta was more precise. “But he didn’t say straightaway that he was looking for Anteo Tonna. He said he was looking for ‘Barbisin’.”
“And who is ‘Barbisin’?”
“It was a nickname they used to give my uncle in the past.”
Someone opened a window, allowing in a gust of wet wind. The woman shivered as though she had been struck a blow, and went behind the bar to serve a customer who had just come in. The commissario’s mobile rang. He left the bar, saying good-bye with a wave, and waited until he was in the middle of the street before pressing the answer button. Juvara shouted out “Hello!” a couple of times without hearing anything in reply. Soneri cursed the machine and had to move to another corner of the piazza to get a signal.
“Boss, I haven’t really got much to report. Decimo Tonna really and truly did live on his own. His neighbours saw him come and go, but he only ever exchanged the time of day with them. He did his shopping at the supermarket and never went to the local bar. I’ve also heard that some social workers went to see him a couple of times, but he chased them away.”
“Does the parish priest know anything about him?” the commissario said. More and more frequently the priests were the only ones you could turn to. And more and more frequently, they knew nothing either. “Check the files on the two Tonnas. They were once Fascists …”
“That’s nearly fifty years ago,” Juvara said.
Soneri thought this over for a few moments until he heard the ispettore repeat again: “Hello, hello?”
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, closing his mobile without saying good-bye.
He walked a little way with myriad thoughts churning in his head, and only after a minute did he realize that what he was experiencing was the overture to a thoroughly bad mood. He felt he was caught up in twin cases but was incapable of disentangling from either any workable lead or even the outline of a hypothesis to work on. Meantime, he found himself confronting the silent faces of the Tonna brothers whom he had never seen alive. The only one he had seen was Decimo under the special white sheet used for corpses, with only the white of his eyes visible and blood trickling from his mouth in the graceless grin of death.
In one of the narrow streets, the mobile rang again.
“So you’re not drowned.” It was Angela.
“Not yet, but don’t lose hope. The river’s still rising.”
“Why not throw yourself in, seeing you’re so keen to be there.”
“I’m afraid of drowning in the dark. Anyway, I’ve just eaten.”
“That’s the one thing you’ll never forget to do.”
“Christ, Angela, I’ve only just got here. And I can’t make head nor tail of the business.”
“O.K., Commissario, you do your investigating. And when you come back, bring me a little something.”
“It’s so much easier for you lawyers: you play about with words, you pull down and build on the facts other people have dug up for you.”
“Don’t play the victim,” Angela said. “I’d like to see you plunge every day into that tank of alligators called a courtroom. I have colleagues who would sell their mothers for a handful of coins.”
“Could anyone be worse than a murderer?”
“Have you any idea what happened to the barge?” she said, her mood becoming more cheerful.
“No,
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