At her sharp change of tone, Luciano backed up on his bed. The hair stood up on the back of his neck at the swift shiver crawling along his spine, as if to retract from an attack that could have come through the telephone.
“I’m talking about the prepaid sim-card I used to communicate with you previously. That was supposed to be destroyed, but I couldn’t remember when or whether it happened.” His voice started to shake. He closed his eyes, trying to get a grip on his emotions. His right hand clenched into a fist, grabbing the sheets of the bed. His heartbeat started to increase, his chest tight, as he knew perfectly well what she was capable of.
“You fool! Don’t you remember? You gave it to me to be destroyed! How could you forget this detail?” Releasing the tension from her toughened expression, she almost felt like laughing at his zeal and worries.
“I couldn’t call you and ascertain this detail, so I needed to find a way to find out. I reached the apartment using one copy of the key nobody knew I had.” His fist released the sheet, and stood from the bed, pacing around the room. “That was one of the copies my father and I used when we forgot the keys inside. Of course, I made sure to wear gloves, not to leave any trace. However, our neighbor might have called the police, as she might have heard some noises coming from the apartment. I have no idea how she always knew about every move we made. It’s like she’d been spying on our family since ever.” He narrowed his eyes at the thought of Berenice nosing once again in matters that didn’t concern her at all.
“So? Did they find you there?” Her tone was alarming, but on the other hand his presence in his own apartment at the end of the data collection, wasn’t something that worried her too much.
“No, as I noticed the police car parking in front of the building, I ran to my room and got out of it using the ladder for maintaining the roof. There wasn’t any chance to be spotted, because there aren’t balconies, or neighboring windows. I seriously doubt anyone has seen me coming out from there, and even so, my face was covered, so it could have been a thief, knowing the apartment was empty.”
A long pause allowed them both to recollect their thoughts and consider the situation.
“Call the police and ask when you can get your keys back. They will tell you if there had been an intrusion in your apartment or whether they had spotted something suspicious. If they will return you the keys without any mention about it, there’s a good possibility they didn’t find anything relevant. Otherwise, if they suspect something, they’ll call you in for further interrogation. In that case, I suggest you find a good alibi.” She was still shaken, but she knew his intrusion wasn’t confirmed by any proof.
They still have nothing against us. “Don’t you worry, everything will be solved; you should have recalled that detail, so you wouldn’t have to reach the apartment one more time. The only thing now is to stay calm to avoid raising any suspicion. I made sure the weapon will be found in Igor’s house, hidden in one of the drawers. There are only his fingerprints, and I believe they will be more than satisfied with that outcome. They have the assassin, and they have the motive. What else they could need?” A broad grin opened up her face.
“Sure,” Luciano muttered still shaken for a mistake that could cause him some unnecessary headaches. A grin twisted his face as there was nothing connecting him to the crime.
As he ended the call with Irina, he walked to the window and lifted the shutters. The light filtering through them, forecasting a fair day, and that promise got confirmed as the bright sunlight forced him to narrow his eyes.
Yet, it was brighter, with the knowledge that everything would have turned for the best. Irina’s father was probably already dead, otherwise he couldn’t explain her happy tone of voice, nor the fact that she was in Paris.
Nothing in the world could have ever disrupted the inner peace he was experiencing in that precise moment, not even the nosy Detective Scala would have been able to get the truth out of that story.
With a loud yawn, he walked away from the window, and decided to call the Police Department. They were supposed to return the keys by the end of the week, but so far, he didn’t receive any news.
The thought of having to talk again to Detective Scala wasn’t appealing to him; he felt always tensed when he heard his voice, and wondered whether he could have simply talked to the call center or information desk to deliver his message.
CHAPTER 17
Maurizio was in his office. Time seemed to have stopped as he worked on his computer. His hand slid across the table’s surface, searching for his cup of coffee.
“Nothing conclusive has come out from any of the clues we’ve collected,” he said slowly bringing the cup to the mouth. With his right hand on the mouse and his eyes steady on the computer’s screen, his senses still looked forward to the hot coffee to give some relief to his thoughts.
A disgusted grimace contorted his face as the coffee, already cold, reached his mouth, bringing him back to his office and to reality. “Shit!” he exclaimed.
Shaking his head, he stood from his chair and walked to the common room to threw away that evil liquid.
Oh, well, if I want a perfect coffee, I need to go to the bar downstairs.
Likened by his enlightened thought, he threw the cup and the coffee away and foretasted the fine aroma of the espresso
