What the Nanny Saw

Chapter 12: An unexpected call

It was with a knot of dread filling his stomach, that Romano arrived home that evening. Even though they had ruled out the mafia earlier in the investigation, even the suggestion that they look in that direction had unbalanced the team. Cat among the pigeons, indeed.

Once Malia had been processed and remanded, Romano spent the afternoon sitting at his desk, thinking. He hadn't signed a single paper. Catterina, perhaps sensing his mood, had let him be to ruminate. Having achieved little, he returned home.

It was clear to Romano that he was missing something. But what that something might be continued to elude him. And now... now he had to go poke his nose into mafia business. He'd be lucky to have a nose when this was done.

Romano poured two fingers of whiskey and sat out on his veranda to think. Sometimes the drone of the crashing waves helped set his mind free. He was just re-considering how Mirriam Bonsignore might conceivable have gotten from Palermo and back in time to commit the murder, and whether the murder and the theft of the pictures were even connected, when his phone went off in his pocket.

Romano sighed and answered.

"Buona Serata," came a deep voice he didn't recognize. "I hope I haven't caught you at an inconvenient time, Inspector."

"Can I ask who's calling?" answered Romano.

"Certainly, Inspector, I was just getting to introducing myself," came the overly formal reply. "This is Giuseppi Fazio. Perhaps you know who I am?"

Romano did, indeed, know who Fazio was - the consigliere, the 'advocat' for the Russo family. But he said, "Sorry, no, can you let me know what this is about?"

Fazio just laughed. "Let's not play games Inspector. My respect for you is too great, and your respect for my... clients... is surely equal. I have information to provide to you. I have no doubt that you are quite capable of distinguishing the real from the fantastic. So I will do you the honor of being completely honest. If I can't tell you something, I will refrain from speaking. But I will only tell you the truth. In return I only ask that you listen and consider what I have to say. Can we agree to these simple terms, Inspector."

"We can," answered Romano

"You are aware that my... clients... had a financial relationship with Bonsingore, I am sure. And that that particular relationship involved the... rescue... of certain, desperate immigrants. Our arrangement with Bonsignore was humanitarian as well as remunerative."

"That's one way to put it," said Romano, dryly.

"This relationship became... strained... over time, due to Bonsignore's borrowing of capital, but inability to repay the same. This is an outcome my clients generally deem... unsatisfactory, yes?"

Romano grunted his assent.

"However, at the time of his unfortunate passing, Bonsignore had repaid my clients a substantial sum... let me check... in excess of 900,000 euro. These monies, Inspector, they were for a legitimate business, a business within the scope of our current laws that was created as a partnership. I can't get into the full details of the business, but can say that my clients knew the risks, and the potential rewards, and that, despite Bonsignore own perilous financial position, the business remains fundamentally sound, is in the possession of my clients, per the agreement made with Bonsignore to settle his outstanding debts. We have no further claim on Bonsignore, his wife, or his estate. Are you understanding what I'm saying, Inspector?"

Romano considered. "I presume that this business, whatever it may be, it has an audio/visual component and exists primarily on-line?"

"Exactly so, Inspector. You are just as sharp as I expected."

"And you already hold copies of all the content?" asked Romano

"We do indeed." Romano could feel the lawyer's broad smile down the end of the telephone line.

"And therefore, there would be no reason for your clients to... intervene... in Bonsingore's affairs," stated Romano.

"As you say, Inspector. No reason." answered the lawyer.

"Let me ask, then," said Romano. "Your clients operate a variety of businesses."

"They do," allowed the lawyer.

"One of these businesses employs a young woman, a certain Malia. Is it possible that you know where she was on the night in question?" asked Romano.

"I'm so pleased you asked," answered the lawyer. "That young lady was engaged, during the hours in question, with a client, out of town. I am quite certain that she was too far, and too busy, to be... interfering... with Bonsignore. I appreciate that you cannot just take my word for it. But I will be seeking her release tomorrow morning, so I will expect the prosecutor to either bring forward evidence or release her into my care."

"I appreciate that and I appreciate your call, Singore," said Romano.

"And I appreciate your time, Inspector. I am sure we will speak again soon."

Romano listened for a while after the click, the sound reminding him of his initial impression of the crime: That if the mafia were involved, it would have been two to the back of the head, and not a vase that did Bonsignore in.

The phone rang again, quite unexpectedly. Assuming it was the lawyer again, Romano said, "Did you forget something, Signore?"

"Inspector, we have a body, a young woman," came Carlo's voice. "It's near Via Garibaldi."

Giulia's street. Romano felt dread in the pit of his stomach. "Send Di Stefano to collect me. And Carlo, tell him to be quick."

Romano stood over the body of the nanny. There was no doubt it was Giulia. The body was naked, except for dirty socks, and face down on the side of the road across from her new home. Even if Malia wasn't still in custody, no mole equaled an actual nanny.

Romano kept a cool exterior. Procedures to follow, routines to keep him anchored. But inside, he was furious. Furious and worried. Had he done this? Had he said the wrong thing - to Mirriam, to the mafia lawyer, to someone else?

Giulia had been troubled, sure, but she had been lovely. The spark he'd seen that first night they met, it had felt real to him. It was surely gone now.

"Has she been interfered with?" asked Romano

"We'll have to wait for the coroner," answered Carlo in a quiet tone. "But I'd say no. If you get down here you can see. No signs of sexual trauma."

"So what's the cause?" asked Romano.

"I don't want to turn her over without the coroner. But I don't see bruising on the neck, no clear cuts, definitely no bullet wounds. She isn't wet at all and the ground here is dry. So I'm thinking suffocation? Or poison?" But it sounded more like a question than an answer.

"Carlo, Sante Madre, she's naked, outside, but near her house. She ran out here. Look at the socks. So not suffocation off site. And I doubt there's a poison that would act fast enough to kill her 100 meters from her door, but not fast enough to keep her inside. My guess is a small caliber bullet or stiletto wound that we'll find when we turn her over. They don't have to bleed much. You could face her from over here. She'd fall with the gradient, right where she lies now."

Romano shook his head. "What a fucking waste," was all he could think.

Romano took a deep breath. "I'm not sticking around to take shit from Vitale, just... just get his report and meet me back at the station. I've had just about enough of this. We are going to start from the beginning and figure this out."

Catterina had taken one look at his face when he came in and knew enough to leave him be. She even had her shirt buttoned all the way. He sat at his desk drinking the station's disgusting coffee and went over the possibilities in his head. An hour later Catterina buzzed to let him know Carlo had returned.

Romano gathered Carlo, Di Stefano, and even Catterina in his office. They did not, in fact, figure it out.

The preliminary forensic report showed Romano had been right, unfortunately. Small caliber. Single gunshot, from less than 20 meters. No exit wound, but likely piercing the heart. The wound had bled, but not enough to seep out past the body. No other evidence of assault. No sexual assault. Vitale was fairly confident on this. Dirt under the nails and therefore unclear if there was DNA to collect, but they would try. The only interesting finding was that the bullet entry was at an angle from the girl's right. It could mean anything, of course - that the perpetrator stood at an angle, that the girl had turned at the moment of firing, or, as Romano suspected, that the pistol had been held in a left hand. It never paid to close off options without evidence, but Romano strongly suspected the same person who killed Bonsignore also killed the Nanny. The question was why - did she know who the killer was the whole time? Was this the inevitable result of more blackmail? Had she seen something? But then why wait so long to take action?

Romano laid it out for the team, a practice they used to clarify the options.

"We have Bonsignore, dead, at home, with the children and the nanny in residence. Suspects include: The nanny, now deceased..."

Di Stefano spoke up. "But that doesn't mean she didn't do it,"

"No, it doesn't. But let's assume for the moment that we have a single perpetrator and see where that gets us," answered Romano

"Let's also recall that forensics says Bonsingore was hit with the vase left-handed, and the nanny signed her papers with the right. Likewise, the mafia is forensically unlikely. A single shot to the chest - possible - but a vase to the head. If it was the mafia, it wasn't a hit. The wife seems to have had motive, but no opportunity, right Carlo?"

"Boss, we've checked it out backward and forward. I just don't see how she could have gotten here from Palermo, unless she had a teleporter," answered the Sergeant.

"Right, so no nanny, no mafia, no wife," said Romano, counting them off on his hand. "Then we have the sister. Two issues there, we don't have an alibi, but I think I believe Fazio when he says she was with a client. I also tend to believe Malia when she says she wouldn't, couldn't act while Giulia was in the Bonsignore's grasp. Plus she's still in custody, so if it's a single perpetrator, she couldn't have killed Giulia."

"I'm actually completely at sea here," said Romano, in despair. He had two days to wrap this thing up and every lead was a dead end. "I'm going home to think. Carlo, if they retrieve the bullet whole, let's ask Vitale to look for fingerprints. Better it comes from you."

Romano thought he must have looked dejected, Catterina didn't even offer a 'helping hand' as he shuffled out.

Ingrid met him at his home with yet another bottle of whiskey and a sympathetic ear. He told her everything - how he was desperate to wrap up the case and get to Liguria, how he felt he must have been the cause of Giulia's death, somehow, though he couldn't see what he had done. How all the suspects led nowhere.

She was a good listener. She nodded along and kept his glass full and he could feel the sympathy roll off of her. She didn't dislike Lydia. In fact, they got along well enough, the one time they met. She just liked to provide an alternative from time to time.

Ingrid asked after the forensics on the nanny, but Romano didn't have the heart to get into it.

"You're stressed, Giacco," said Ingrid. "What you need is to relax."

She ran a hand along his arm and then, with her hand resting on his opposite shoulder, came around the back of his chair and started to rub his shoulders. Romano sighed and leaned his head back against her tummy. She ran her hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, rubbing the scalp. He felt some of the tension drain away.

Ingrid leaned over, her breasts pushing into the top of his head, and kissed him, from her upside-down perspective, landing at the corner of his mouth. She ran her hands down the front of his shirt, leaning over far enough to reach his thighs.

"Giacco, stand up," said Ingrid. Romano slowly pushed up from the chair with his hands on the arms of the chair.

Ingrid pressed up behind him, pushing her breasts into his back, her mouth nuzzling up against his ear.

"You need to relax," she repeated, this time in a whisper right into his ear. She took the lobe into her mouth and sucked on it lightly. "Be a good boy and stand still."

She reached down and started to undo his belt. Then, sliding her tits down his back, she crouched down, undid his pants and pulled down. His hard cock sprang out.

Ingrid straightened back up. Her right hand caressed his chest, while her left began to slowly pump his cock. "Just relax Giacco," she whispered into his ear. His head swam. His knees felt weak.

She briefly took her hand off his cock and brought it to her mouth, licking the palm. And then she was back, stroking faster.

Now his knees buckled. She held him awkwardly up with her right arm and they stumbled, gracelessly backwards, Ingrid struggling to hold him, Romano tied up in his pants. They reached the wall and Ingrid put her back against it. Romano rested against her and she continued to pump, her right hand traveling down now to cradle his balls.

"That's it Giacco, just let yourself go." She pulled lightly on his balls and worked her other hand softly up and down the head of his cock.

"You can do it," she encouraged. "You can cum for me. Just let it go."

He panted. His mind was blank. The world consisted of her hand on his cock, and that was about it.

She kissed his neck, sucking. Then licked at his earlobe again. Romano cried out.

She kept her mouth on his neck and pumped faster, working her hand rhythmically.

"Be a good boy and cum for me, baby," she whispered. "Relax, relax, release, release."

Romano moaned and then he did. Over her hand, over the floor.

And then he fell further back against her. She slowly slid down the wall. Her right hand now bracing her as they slowly sank to the floor, her left still holding his cock, still softly stroking.

She held him tightly, her right arm now wrapped around him, her left still holding his cock, but no longer stroking. His breathing became rhythmic and his eyes became heavy.

Ingrid said softly, "It's ok, Giacco. It's not your fault. Those two girls hurt a lot of people. Maybe one killed Bonsignore and the other got killed for it, herself."

Mistaken identity? It was a thought Romano had also had.