Once again, he saw the pictures of dogs with torn bloody ears that had so upset Ferrucci. Then back to the studio to see Di Tivoli shaking his head sadly, before brightening up a little and announcing that there were people and organizations dedicated to fighting such horrors. The screen filled with a photograph of a younger version of Clemente. It dwelled on the face for some time, as Di Tivoli did a voiceover describing Clemente’s unstinting commitment and fundamental sense of justice. The report described the founding of the Anti-Vivisection League in 1977, when a group of like-minded individuals inspired by a sense of duty and compassion banded together to defend the defenseless. This was also the year in which the infamous Magliana Gang embarked on its blood-fueled exploits, Di Tivoli said. Blume watched some footage of young animal rights women answering phones. Then back to the picture of Clemente and Di Tivoli’s voice: On Friday, August 27, Arturo Clemente was brutally knifed to death in the safety of his own home.
“Your case,” said Kristin.
“As far as it goes. The crime scene was compromised, too much time has passed, and other even more serious things have happened, but, yes, it’s still my case.”
A red script imitating the style of a rubber stamp slammed the word “Assassinato” diagonally across Clemente’s face, which then dissolved into nothingness to reveal Di Tivoli with grim demeanor standing in the studio, one hand resting on a desk. He wondered who murdered Clemente, and why. He ran his hands feelingly through his hair, and asked whether the killer would ever be caught. Sadly, he held out little hope for justice, given that the criminal investigation conducted by the Rome police had been unprofessional, incompetent, slapdash, short-lived, and inaccurate.
“Is this reporter some sort of enemy?” asked Kristin.
“It looks that way,” said Blume.
From the screen, Di Tivoli wanted to know why the police had completely failed to follow the most obvious lead. Why was he, a mere reporter, able to discover a vital witness who-he paused, turned ninety degrees to his left to address a different studio camera-might even be a suspect, a person the police had never even interviewed? An image of Manuela Innocenzi filled the screen. She was at least ten years younger in the photo than when Blume had interviewed her. Even then her hair was carrot- colored.
Who is this woman, and what is her connection with the Clemente case, demanded Di Tivoli. The answer, he promised, was deeply disturbing, and was coming right up, after the break.
Di Tivoli spent three minutes outlining the first half of the show. Then up came the picture of the woman again. As Di Tivoli said her name, it appeared with a ticker-tape effect below the photograph: Manuela Innocenzi, 41 years of age. Fund contributor and card-carrying member of LAV.
One of the last people to see Clemente alive, noted Di Tivoli, Manuela Innocenzi was seen by him three nights before the murder. The pale-faced girl with black glasses from Clemente’s office appeared on-screen and confirmed this. She had seen them leave the LAV office together on the Tuesday before the tragic event. Had she told the police this? Yes.
Who is Manuela Innocenzi?
The scene cut to old footage of gunshot victims in cars, lying on the street. Magliana, Rome, 1986, said the caption. Local crime is converging with high politics, said Di Tivoli, and these are just some of the victims of the spiral of violence caused by the power vacuum. More shots of dead bodies, most of whom, Blume reflected, had got what was coming to them. The political-criminal nexus started unravelling and the police struck decisively at the power structures and key figures, culminating in the successful Colosseo operation. Blume remembered that.
Now a new type of apolitical criminal leadership emerges, said Di Tivoli, slipping comfortably into the historic present. They break the political ties, limit their areas of operations and scale down the killing spree by striking an agreement on territory and areas of operations. The triumvirate, as they became known, gain a reputation for “moderation.” Di Tivoli, still standing in front of his desk, gave the word an ironic inflection, then added, “But it is a peculiar term to use, ‘moderation.’ Some might call it stalemate, or compromise, or corruption, or the defeat of the rule of law. For a quarter of a century, the police have not disturbed the criminal status quo in the districts of Magliana, Tufello, Ostia, Corviale, Laurentino 38, Tor Bella Monaca, Tor de’ Schiavi, Pietralata, Casalbruciato, and Centocelle.”
Back in the studio, Di Tivoli stood before three photos of aging men: two jowly, fat; one thin with combed back white hair, resembling an osprey. He introduced them to his audience: Gianfranco D’Antonio, Fabio Urbani, and the thin one, known as “er falco,” real name Benedetto Innocenzi, father of the woman Clemente was last seen with!
The rest of the show was repetition and filler. As the closing credits were rolling, the cordless rang again.
“I need to recharge my mobile,” said Blume.
“I’ll do it,” said Kristin, standing up. “I saw the recharger in the kitchen.”
Blume answered the phone.
“Did you just see Di Tivoli’s effort at investigative journalism?”
It was Principe.
“He’s decided to force open the case again,” said Blume.
“You and I are still off it, and we can be thankful,” said Principe. “The widow phoned me earlier to complain about the show and its maker. Di Tivoli had the gall to tarnish the image of the heroic husband by revealing his tryst with that Innocenzi woman. Now, when she goes back to parliament, she’s going to be the wife of the guy who was fucking the daughter of a gangland boss. Bad PR. Makes her look stupid, or even complicit. Di Tivoli hasn’t done us any favors, either. He phoned me today, too.”
“What did he want?” asked Blume.
“He was more interested in that Nicotra case. The sex scandal. He did the journalist thing, pretending it had nothing to do with him, really. But when I didn’t give him any information, he started getting nasty, then asked what it feels like to be an incompetent prosecutor directing incompetent policemen,” said Principe.
“It occurs to me that Innocenzi is not going to be pleased with the latest developments.”
“Di Tivoli pretty much laid the blame for Clemente’s murder at his door,” agreed Principe. “That’s… I don’t know. Reckless, suicidal, brave even, in a creepy sort of Di Tivoli way. You don’t go around accusing Innocenzi of stuff like that.”
“Especially when it’s probably not true,” said Blume.
“I was going to ask you. You’re still convinced it was that… I forget his name.”
“Angelo Pernazzo,” said Blume. “I am waiting for news on him from Paoloni. When I get some, I’m going to come back to you, get you to do something.”
“I told you, I am no longer directing the investigation,” said Principe. “What that means, apart from my career if I ignore an order, is that any evidence we gather will be inadmissible, any actions we take will be illegal.”
Blume ignored this. Principe was right up to a point, but there were ways of getting round orders, especially for a magistrate who could cite any one of hundreds of contrasting sections of the code of criminal procedure. Principe did not need a legal justification, he needed convincing-and he needed to be interested. Keeping his tone casual, Blume decided to go in for some speculation.
“Have you thought that Di Tivoli may have something to do with it?”
“Di Tivoli? No. How would that work?”
Kristin, who had returned and was leaning against the back of the armchair, hand on chin, looked interested.
“Well,” said Blume, gathering his thoughts, “Di Tivoli obviously despised Clemente. You saw the show. It was like he was dancing on his grave. Di Tivoli knew about Clemente’s affair with Manuela. Why did he not use it before now? It seems to me like Clemente had something on him. Maybe Clemente knew something about this Nicotra sex thing?”
“If you’re asking why Di Tivoli did not use this knowledge of Manuela before now, I can think of many reasons. Maybe because they were friends. Maybe it just took him until now to turn his knowledge into a scandal show. Maybe he didn’t know about it, or he had better things to do, or because it doesn’t matter, or because his friend Clemente was not dead yet,” said Principe. “If you’re trying to get me to pursue a new line of inquiry, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
“For a friend, Di Tivoli has dragged Clemente’s reputation through the mud.”
“He’s a journalist, Alec. That’s what they do. And Clemente is way past caring. Only one who cares is his
