Even from a distance, Matteo could make out the mayor, who stood out against the flora like a white tiger in his short-sleeved shirt. The mayor’s stature was more like an albino elephant than a sleek predator. It was a curious sight to see Duccio Lenzi trudging through the wilderness in his fine threads—and in the sweltering midday heat.
Matteo just couldn’t figure out why he had been summoned down to the banks of the Serchio. But the mayor had sounded so urgent on the phone, then he had hung up immediately, so he hadn’t had time to ask him any questions.
He saw Duccio Lenzi stumbling across the property and repeatedly pulling out his phone to take photos. When he noticed Matteo, he waved him over.
“Ah, Silvestri. I’m glad you were able to make it so quickly.” The mayor let his gaze wander over the meadow. When Matteo was standing directly in front of him, he asked, “How many buses do you think there’ll be room for here?”
“I… don’t know.” He spread his arms. “Listen, Signore Lenzi. About my visit to see Nina—”
“Save it, Silvestri! I don’t want to know about what you get up to with my daughter.” The mayor made such a gruff hand gesture leading to his neck that Matteo preferred not to say another word about this delicate subject.
“But… why did you ask me to come here, then?”
The mayor didn’t give him an answer. Instead, he trudged on over the parched grass, directly towards the construction trailer, the entrance to which was marked with police cordon tape. Matteo had put it there himself after the forensics had left.
“Do they already know more about the perpetrator?” the mayor asked so casually that it was clear to Matteo this wasn’t the reason why they were meeting here.
“No,” he confessed. “The forensic evaluations are still ongoing. And you, of course, would be the first person I’d inform.”
The mayor snorted and continued on his way.
Matteo followed him across the meadow like a manservant.
“Tell me, Lenzi. Why are we meeting down here by the river, of all places?”
Lenzi turned around. “Isn’t it obvious? I was on site anyway to have another look at everything and to prepare documentation for the local council. And then, when Nina told me you were with her, I thought… I thought it’d be the ideal opportunity for the two of us to meet down here.”
And so you could drag me away from your daughter, Matteo thought with an edge of anger rising in his stomach. He was about to find some appropriate retort when he was distracted by a flash of sunlight.
“Just a moment, Signore Lenzi! Wait a minute!”
He walked towards the tree that stood directly in front of the entrance to the construction trailer and searched the bark.
“What are you doing?” the mayor, who had followed him to the tree, demanded.
This was where he had seen the point of light. The spot had to be here somewhere. He found it; something metallic was stuck in the tree.
He took the pocket knife from his belt and poked around until he had freed the object from the bark.
“What is it?” asked the mayor, who was now standing very close to him.
Together they looked at the small piece of metal in Matteo’s palm.
“A bullet.”
“What? But…” Lenzi puffed out his cheeks, but Matteo paid him no further attention. All of a sudden, an idea came to him.
He wheeled around, climbed the few steps to the construction trailer, tore away the flagging police tape from the entrance and entered. He looked intensely around the spot where he had found Gaetano a few days ago. Although everything in him rebelled against it, he took in a deep, slow breath through his nose and considered the smell. Gunshot residue, the forensics man had said. And indeed, Matteo smelled something that might well have been gunpowder. If a gun had recently been fired in here, there must have been a reason for it. He stood upright and turned in a circle.
“Silvestri!” he heard the mayor’s muffled baritone. “Everything okay in there?”
Matteo didn’t answer. He was thinking. Perhaps the perpetrator had been surprised by Gaetano. He could have been standing in the back by the bed when suddenly the door opened and Gaetano was standing there. So the perpetrator had raised the rifle and shot at him. But he had missed. Or…
Matteo raised his hands as if gripping a rifle, then closed one eye to take aim. He didn’t know much about ballistics, but thanks to the impact hole he had found, it was possible to determine the point from which the shooter must have fired. According to this, he hadn’t aimed at eye level, but much lower. Almost as if he hadn’t wanted to hit Gaetano, but… a dog!
It had to be. Matteo remembered the injury Caesar had on his head. It was a graze.
Matteo felt he had just made a big step forward in the case. He still didn’t know who the perpetrator was, but now he had an idea of how it had happened.
His head now brimming with thoughts, he stepped out of the construction trailer and headed for the mayor, who was waiting in the shade of the tall tree.
“Did you find anything?” asked the mayor.
Matteo took his time answering. “Maybe, yes.” He looked again at the bullet he had found. “I think it could be important in helping forensics determine the murder weapon.” He put the bullet in his breast pocket.
Lenzi raised his eyebrow appreciatively. “Good work, Silvestri. And how far have you got with our thing? When can the construction trailer finally be removed? Have you been able to trace the owner?”
Matteo sighed. So that was what this was all about. “The construction trailer belongs to Lorenzo Bonucci, the scrap dealer.”
The mayor jutted his chin forward. “Oh, Bonucci? Good. And what did he say? Was he insightful?”
“Well,” Matteo replied evasively as he remembered a crucial piece of information he hadn’t even told the mayor yet. “There could perhaps be another problem, Signore Lenzi.”
The mayor eyed him insistently. “Problem?” he asked. “What kind of problem?” With a jerk, Lenzi raised a hand and clapped it on the back of his neck. The grimace on his face told Matteo he had struck a nerve.
“The scrap dealer doesn’t just own the trailer; he also owns the land.”
The mayor looked at him as if Matteo had just asked his daughter to marry him.
“Oh,” he stuttered. “That’s… surprising,” he said with some effort.
Matteo could see the heat was getting to him out here. He seemed to be suffering. Inwardly, Matteo snorted. It should have been the mayor’s job to check the legal status of this plot of land before making some grandiose proposal for a bus park to the municipal council.
But Lenzi seemed to have regained his composure. Worry lines gave way to a broad smile. “Oh, well. That shouldn’t be a problem. I know the scrap dealer.” He nodded confidently. “This Lorenzo guy’s always broke. He’ll sell us the property for a song.” Laughing, he said, “I bet I could get it for a couple of eggs, or a bag of apples.”
Matteo wanted to say something in reply, but stopped in alarm.
“Wait, what did you just say?”
“That Lorenzo’s always hard up. He’s sure to be glad of every extra euro he can pocket.”
“No, after that.”
The mayor tilted his head. “About apples and eggs? What about it? Jesus, Silvestri! What are you getting at?”
Matteo didn’t answer. A sudden flash of inspiration had just zapped through him. It didn’t happen very often, but here it was. And suddenly everything was as crystal clear as the freshly washed windowpanes in Nina’s art shop.
Without another word, he turned and left.
“Silvestri. You can’t just leave me here like this!”