“I was here writing in my notebook; I think I’ve done my work long enough to remember that detail.”
Forensic Investigator Romizi shrugged, “Just checking.”
“What are your first impressions? Is there anything interesting about the way Mr. Calvani was murdered?” Maurizio strolled toward Leonardo, placing the notebook in his pocket.
“Yes, and everything seems to point at a case that won’t be easy to solve. He was killed with a single shot to the head from a very close range. We found only one shell, meaning that the gun wasn’t a revolver,” he said, raising the clear-sealed bag which contained it. “We will have to perform the ballistic models to see from which position he was shot, whether the assassin was waiting for him in the car or outside of it. There are so many points on the dynamic that need to be clarified, and hopefully, the surveillance camera installed will, for once, be helpful to get more information about the killer.”
The rest of the team started to collect samples and items from the apartment, particularly from the studio, where Claudio was running part of his business life.
Suddenly an elderly woman in her sixties arrived, peeking from the door, hesitatingly looking around. “Ma’am!” Maurizio exclaimed, pacing toward her to avoid having an intruder. “This place is restricted now. You can’t come inside.”
“I’m sorry, but I live here on this same floor. You can’t pretend people won’t get interested in what’s going on here,” she protested, exiting the apartment. “What happened? Did you find the man dealing with drugs?”
Narrowing his eyes, trying to understand whether there was something to extract from her question, he walked her to a corner of the stairs. “Mr. Calvani was found dead this morning. Have you heard anything that can help us?”
The woman gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth. She could have guessed everything except something serious like a murder. “Detective, do you think there’s a murderer who can threaten all of us?”
“No, I’m certain this was connected directly to Mr. Calvani. You can be sure nobody is after any of the other residents of this building. But if you heard any noise, something strange, please don’t keep it for yourself, every information can be vital, even the smallest,” he insisted, knowing she could have been the right person who keeps track of every move the people living on the same floor make, if not in the whole block.
“I am a person who minds her own business. I don’t put my nose in issues that don’t concern me,” she said proudly, inflating her chest. “Nevertheless, this morning, I heard Mr. Calvani returning later than usual. When he comes back in the night, the slightest noise echoes like a peal of thunder, and I got awakened by the slamming of the door.”
“Hmm... how did you know it was Mr. Calvani and not his son or someone else?” He knew the answer, but he always loved to tease a bit those I-mind-my-own-business people who always know everything about everybody. In many cases, they were intrusive presences, but when a crime is committed, they could be a blessing for the Police. They are sometimes better than a surveillance camera because they hold information, nobody else knows.
“Look,” she said, pointing at the door on the other side. “Here is living Bruna, she is a friend of mine and lives alone. She’s not used to going out for clubs,” Her finger moved to another door. “There, lives the Magliani’s family. They go to work early, and they have two toddlers, so if they were going somewhere at that time of the night, they would have been together for some sort of emergency.”
Maurizio’s face lightened, amused, “Yes, but it could have been Luciano, the son of Mr. Calvani...”
“No-no-no. No, sir!” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “The boy is going to university and goes to sleep early. He was listening to music and then switched on the TV, so he wasn’t the one who returned at three o’clock in the morning.” She got closer to Maurizio as to avoid being heard by indiscreet ears. “He came home at three o’clock, but after a few minutes, he got out once again, after receiving a phone call. I thought he was going to the apartment of the new girlfriend because he didn’t come back, but now that you tell me he’d been murdered...” She signed herself, pursing her lips. “Shall God have mercy on his soul.”
Maurizio remained silent for a moment, and things started to make some sort of sense.
If he received a call, it might be possible it was the assassin. Immersed in his thoughts, he drifted back in the apartment, leaving the woman waiting on the corridor. He came in, took off his jacket and the telephone rang... He walked once again outside the door.
Whoever called him asked him out with a whatever excuse, yet this implied his intention was to be back within a few minutes, without going anywhere specific; otherwise, he would have brought the jacket with him. I need the telephone and the call log of the last few months, but particularly last night.
He glanced at the woman who remained to observe the coming and goings of the detective from the apartment.
“Mrs....” Maurizio hesitated.
“Moretti, Berenice Moretti,” she replied, almost standing at attention.
“Mrs. Moretti, I wish to have you available for any questions I might have about what you remember of the previous night,” he commenced, hoping not to be too intrusive into the life of a bystander.
“If you fear I might forget any detail, I wish to inform you that I have a perfectly functioning memory, and I won’t forget anything, but if you prefer to question me right away,
