“You make it sound as if this could be murder?” The CEO sounded horrified all over again.
“We have not yet ruled it out.”
His voice shook as he replied. “From our side, Ms. Rossi was a woman of great vision and unique ability. She took the brand from a family business, to a leading name that stands among the industry greats. Can you offer us any further information on this suspected murder? How could such a crime have occurred?”
Falcone realized that she was on speakerphone. She adjusted her mental image to a big boardroom, with a long table lined with high-backed leather chairs. She heard concerned voices. People were murmuring about the share price, and various international deals that were about to go through.
“A murder will jeopardize everything,” she heard a woman’s voice, high and sharp. “The deals will be at risk. Share prices will suffer.”
Falcone pressed her lips together. She usually had little sympathy for the plight of large corporations, but in this case, she couldn’t help but realize how delicate the situation was, and how much responsibility rested on her to do the most thorough job she could.
If she and her team ended up accusing anyone of murder, they would need cast-iron proof, and preferably an eyewitness.
Otherwise, with corporate interests at stake, the police would be accused of bungling, and this would reflect badly on everyone concerned and adversely affect her team’s reputation. Falcone was well aware that the Italian public had far more love for the fashion world and their local iconic brands than they did for the tireless workings of law enforcement officers.
“I can meet with you this morning at eleven a.m.,” she said. “We should have more information by then and can give you a clearer idea of the direction this will take.”
“All right, Detective. Thank you for this meeting. May I ask if you could attend it at our offices, so the board of directors can be present?”
Falcone agreed. Once again, she heard the worried buzz of voices, and picked up that a press conference was already being organized for noon. Clearly, the Rossi board wanted to be ahead of the curve and break the news publicly before any rumors could circulate which might jeopardize their share price or upcoming deals.
After concluding the conversation, Falcone read the coroner’s report that had just come through. It confirmed that Ms. Rossi had a high blood alcohol level at the time of her death, and that the fall had resulted in a broken neck which had killed her instantly. The coroner confirmed that the other facial injuries and head injuries had been incurred at around the same time, but he could not establish with any certainty whether or not they had been caused by the fall.
Falcone nodded as she closed the document, pressing her lips together in disappointment. Realistically, she hadn’t expected the report to provide any miracle insights, but only to confirm what they had already observed. She continued with her routine checks to see if there had been any other reports from the Rossi household in the past. Her first phone call was to the local police.
When Falcone stated her name and the reason for her call, the sergeant who answered said she would transfer her to the station commander.
Falcone waited a minute, and then found herself speaking to the sergeant again.
“Unfortunately the station commander is out today. However, I have looked up for you on our system. We have received no reports from that address.”
“Thank you,” Falcone said.
It was only after putting the phone down that she began to think there had been something odd about the conversation. The sergeant had provided the information at a speed that Falcone would never have imagined possible. Even with computerized systems, that search had been uncannily quick.
So quick that she was starting to suspect it might not have been done at all.
Shelving this line of inquiry, Falcone decided to follow up with the commander personally when she had more time, and to explain that his staff might be taking shortcuts, and he should check up on them.
Then Falcone made her next call, to Social Services, where she had better luck getting hold of the person she needed. She got put straight through to the department manager, Mr. Dellucci.
“How can I help, Detective?” he asked.
“I am heading up an investigation,” she began. “We have had an accidental death, which I believe may have occurred under suspicious circumstances. I would like to know if you have had any call-outs to the relevant address, or been consulted at all—perhaps somebody might have alerted you recently?”
“Please, give me the details.”
She noticed with surprise that Mr. Dellucci suddenly sounded less enthusiastic and more guarded.
“The name is Ms. Rossi. Here is the address.”
Falcone read it out carefully.
“Hello?” she said, frowning as she wondered if the line had been cut off, as there was nothing but silence on the other end. “Are you still there?”
“I am sorry,” the manager gabbled. “I have just been called into an urgent meeting. Rest assured, Detective, I will get back to you as soon as I can with any relevant information.”
He disconnected swiftly, and Falcone’s frown deepened.
He hadn’t even asked her for her phone number. What was going on here?
She tried calling back, but was not at all surprised to be told, when she asked for the manager, that he was not available.
Falcone took a moment to consider what had just happened.
This could just be the usual bureaucracy and inefficiency of state departments at work. The Social Services manager might indeed have been stressed and overworked, and called into an urgent meeting. She would have believed it more readily if his tone hadn’t changed during their conversation, as he started to realize what she was asking about.
The other explanation was that the name and address had thrown up red flags in both the police
