The waves crashed gently on the shore as the sun slowly began to rise over the village of Branchlion to herald a new summer day.
Soon the soft colors of the sky would have burned as much as the summer sun which, for the third time that week, would have made the many residents and few tourists gasp from the early hours. A mild breeze was blowing lightly enough to make the leaves of the palm trees that grew on the sidewalk that cut the road along the seafront swing in half, the beaches were slowly preparing for another day of work and far away on the horizon of the sea the boats of the fishermen sailed with the hope of an abundant catch.
A few souls had already taken a seat on the beach: some to bathe in the water in quiet solitude, some to breathe fresh air before the sun burned them.
Among the early risers was a small family of two adults and two children. They came from one of the nearby towns and this was one of the many reasons for the grumbling of the two stressed parents who had had to come by car to reach the seaside destination. They did not go unnoticed by the ears of the solitary bathers, who turned to see a couple of adults loaded with the classic beach "armament" consisting of an umbrella, beach toys, bags full of towels, and so on. The two children, a boy and a girl, held hands as they followed their parents in silence like ducklings, absorbed in thoughts dedicated to the upcoming sand games, swimming and the possibility of being able to catch some little fish with their green nets.
The little girl was holding a plastic doll dressed like a mermaid close to her chest, the fabric tail was all frayed and the sequins that simulated scales were missing, her blonde hair had been partially colored with a blue marker. Every time they went to the seaside, she hoped to see one just like her doll or the ones she saw singing on television, her little eyes full of innocence carefully observed the surface of the sea and she didn't look away even when her older brother told her to walk faster or pay attention to obstacles.
Suddenly the little girl began to run towards the beach, easily freeing herself from her brother's secure hold.
Her mother shouted after her to stop and chased her, causing her sea bags to fall to the ground.
The little girl went down the slope of the beach, sinking her feet into the warm sand under which small stones and cigarette butts left by rude bathers were hidden, her arms in the air to keep herself balanced and her mouth open in an adorable smile studded with baby teeth. pearly milks. Her haphazard running stopped near the shore with a victorious shriek of excitement. She waved the mermaid doll in the air like a flag and pointed out to her mother with glee the humanoid figure near which she had stopped, repeating with her in her high-pitched voice “she's just like my doll!”.
The mother, angry at her daughter's innocent mischief, paid no attention to her words. Not right away at least. Only when the seashore was within her sight did she realize what was affecting the little girl... and that was when her scream was heard by everyone nearby.
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Miss Ottavia Dandelion opened her eyes and the red-lit numbers on the digital alarm clock were the first thing she saw.
The time read 10:30.
“How late it is!” The woman thought, in her mind.
As a morning person, it felt strange for her to wake up so late, she felt as if she had lost part of the day and this created a sense of unease and, above all, of hurry in having to make up for lost time. Luckily the heat partly dampened that sensation, the rest was taken care of by the memory of being on holiday. There was only her in her house at that moment, the only noise she heard was that of the birds perched on the trees outside in the garden and the rough waves of the sea a few steps from her house. Her men were most likely already on the beach, swimming, or tanning, or more simply solving a crossword.
She couldn't help but smile when she thought back to the surprise her husband had given her when two weeks ago, he announced that he had booked a villa in Branchlion for two months.
Ottavia knew that place mainly from her companion's stories, as it was the town where he had spent most of his summers as a boy. It was not a typical location designated for tourism where one finds environments such as discos, amusement parks or luxury restaurants; it was to be defined more as a place dedicated simply to the sea and rest... no chaotic extravaganzas, therefore, except when special evenings are organized on the marine shores or village festivals take place. She was more than fine with it. A little quiet was just what she needed after a year as busy as hers and a family vacation never turned her down. Only the two sons had shown little enthusiasm, an almost normal reaction for two teenagers who would certainly have preferred to stay in more thrilling places.
She was amazed by the elegance of the small villa: it was painted a delicate pastel pink, the roof had red tiles and white columns were arranged on the front facade, outside there was a beautiful garden embellished with small evergreen trees and one with oleander rose that partially covered the entrance gate with its flowery festoons. The interior was clean, spacious, and welcoming, with modern style furniture and paintings reproducing famous works; divided into two floors of which the upper one was equipped with a large balcony from which you could look out to observe the sea or catch the fresh evening breeze. Result: the perfect space for a family of four.
After drinking a quick coffee, she got ready to join his family on the beach.
Two weeks of sun had not been enough to scratch the whiteness of her skin, the few but light freckles and the red hair seemed to accentuate her resemblance to a snowflake, which was not helpful to her self-esteem in among so many people who already boasted an enviable chocolate tan. A blue sundress and a straw hat were more than enough to protect her from the light at least until she arrived under the safe shade of the umbrella, where she would stop to prepare to enter the water and enjoy the freshness of the warm sea.
It didn't seem strange to her to see so many people with phones in their hands taking pictures, photographs, or video calls... but even an entire crowd was almost strange.
On the horizon, beyond two of the three marine shores that were on the street, there was a lively group of people and the easily recognizable local police cars. She walked briskly towards the goal, constantly adjusting the large rainbow bag filled with towels, books to read, and sunscreen over her shoulder. Just at that moment, she thought of finally checking her cell phone, realizing that she had missed messages and calls from both her husband and children. She had time to read a message before realizing for herself what had happened: "There has been a murder."
There was nobody to be seen at the crime scene, but a good portion of the area had been closed off to allow the continuation of the investigations which were taking place both on land and at sea.
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In the water, divers were climbing from the hulls of the police forces.
On the beach, however; an orderly line of six agents combed every inch with a watchful eye.
Everyone was looking for evidence, of course.
Who knows if something had already been found, the woman wondered.
In addition to the crowd of curious civilians, there was no shortage of press who, hungry for information, repeatedly asked questions to the local commissioner Alfio Leoni, who however knew as much as them: i.e. nothing.
The Commissioner was short and bald, with a proud and severe expression and bright brown eyes, his voice was incredibly high and strong, allowing him to be heard even from a distance and even being able to overwhelm those who didn't let him speak or didn't want to listen to his warnings.
Ottavia, with her cell phone still in her hand, quickly composed a message.
At the same time, the Commissioner received a notification on his phone and stepped away to read it in private.
[Commissioner, what happened? Was there a murder?]
The man took a quick look at the crowd and immediately noticed the white figure of Ottavia.
[Good morning, dear friend. I can’t confirm whether it was a homicide. However, I guarantee you that the discover will inflame the news in the next few minutes more than the record heat of these days.]
[I see. The press is hungry for information.]
[They can die of thirst, as far as I'm concerned. Until I have more information, I will not waste a single word on them.]
[And with me, Commissioner? Will it leave me high and dry?]
The man understood where she was going with this and thought about it for a couple of minutes before answering her.
[Depends. Maybe I'll need a friendly voice in the next few days... this case is already shaping up to be very strange and stressful.]
[Why?]
[I should show it to understand, but...]
[Don't worry, I have no impression of a dead body.]
After a few minutes of waiting, a photo file arrived in the timeline.
Opening it, Ottavia was presented with a photo of a beautiful woman with a pearly skin, long blue hair with purple locks adorned with shells and pearls and... a blue fish tail with silvery reflections in place of legs. A mermaid, that's who the victim was... or at least, how she pretended to be. It was more than obvious that it was a costume. She seemed to be posing, she didn't give the impression of a corpse at all; she looked as if she were asleep and had her arms resting upwards on the bench, her hair fanned out behind her back.
The first thing Ottavia thought, after seeing the photo, was that she wanted to know more. How did a mermaid end up on that beach?
[Promise me you'll keep me informed.]
[Only if she promises to prepare me one of her famous relaxing herbal teas.]
[Deal.]
When there was a mystery in her way, great curiosity was born in Ottavia Dandelion.
She was not a detective, nor did she work for the police in any capacity… in fact, she was the modest owner of a tea room in Brimstone, whose expertise and skill was known around town for the quality of her drinks and snacks. Nonetheless, she had a keen interest in crimes, particularly very strange ones.
And lo and behold, the one about the fish-woman was very interesting.
As expected, the news of the incident was soon spread on television and gained notoriety thanks also to its peculiarity. Some photos taken by people who had found the body (and were convinced that it was a real mermaid, among other things) were leaked onto the web and immediately went around the world, to the disappointment of the police who would have preferred to limit their reach.
The opinions on the case were lost in an ocean of words, it must be said. Some were convinced it was a hoax, those who proposed absurd theories and those who even proposed the disturbing reality of the murder. At the “Lido Saturno” where she used to have lunch or dinner with her family, there wasn't a diner who didn't talk about it. Even though everyone was discussing it in hushed tones in the blue and white open-air restaurant, she could very well understand the various conversations that people exchanged among themselves, accustomed to the gossip that the ladies who frequented her tearoom used to exchange with the same tone. The chatter she heard, though; they were not in any way interesting or helpful in giving her any initial insight into how that poor girl died.
<< ... Which is bad luck, that's what I think. >>
<< Really Alberto? Do you still believe these things? >>
<< Yes Matteo, and you know it well. >>
Her family was also discussing the topic, although at some point it had taken a turn related to superstition. The owner of the place Alberto Vienna, a friend of her husband Felix since adolescence (who used to call him by his second name for a funny reason), was convinced that this event would bring bad luck to the town.
He and her husband were the same age, but the man had early onset of gray hair that gave everyone the impression that he was much older, a misunderstanding also accentuated by the mustache not exactly suited to a face like his. It must be said, however, that he had a nice athletic physique thanks to the fact that he did a lot of physical activity and in particular that he swam a lot, a detail that Ottavia did not fail to underline, hoping that this would encourage her husband to do the same.
As for his worries, Felix belittled them because he was aware of how superstitious he was and reproached him for still believing in what he considered nonsense. Perhaps he was the only person, together with the commissioner, who did not want to say anything about the matter until he had more precise information. Until then, he would remain stoic.
<< It is not the first time that serious accidents have occurred in the city. >> her husband said to his friend, in a flat and serious voice. <
<< But did you see how the woman was dressed? When have you ever seen something like this around here? >>
<< You should come visit us in town, then. There you will see inconceivable things. >>
<< I'll tell you again: this story will bring us bad luck. Even the staff are nervous. >>
<< Of course, because it's you who makes them anxious. >>
The owner threw his hands in the air, surrendering to Felix's apathy, and went back to the kitchen.
<< Sorry guys... he's usually not so agitated. >>
<< Don't worry Lorenzo, he's always been like this. >>
Lorenzo was Alberto's nephew, as well as one of the waiters at the family-run restaurant.
He was a tall, thin boy, his face was beginning to take on the typical adult features accentuated by a shaved beard, his hair was short and unkempt, continually frizzy probably due to the continuous sweating that had left two large halos under his armpits. He usually presented himself smiling and hospitable, as a waiter should show, but that day he was also in a sad mood which forced him to wear a forced smile.
In reality, his uncle had told a half-truth: even if not everyone was as upset as he was about the matter, some were impressed by it, even if not at the same level as him.
<< How are you, Lorenzo? Were you shocked too? >> Ottavia asked him, noticing his mood.
The boy was little older than her children, so he had a maternal instinct to worry about his well-being.
<< Yes... I admit it. And you, Mrs. Ottavia, aren't you upset? >>
<< Honestly? For nothing. >>
Lorenzo's eyes widened at that answer.
Ottavia did not miss her husband's amused smile hidden under the napkin. He knew what she was like and was no longer surprised by her interest in crimes.
<< Don't get me wrong, what happened is sad. But at the same time, I would like to know what brought a woman, among other things dressed like a mythological creature, to these quiet beaches. >>
<< Seriously? You are curious about it? >>
<< Like everyone else, after all. I hope I don't seem too strange to you. >>
<< Not at all. Indeed, fortunately there is a beautiful lady like you to cheer up the atmosphere. >>
<< Lorenzo, take away that enchanted look from my wife. She's not one of the little girls you can usually flirt with. >>
<< Who did you take me for? I am a gentleman. >>
At a certain point the chatter in the room was covered by the lively notes of the music.
From a radio hidden somewhere and through houses positioned at strategic points, old and new famous songs dedicated to summer began to play, instigating dancing in children and teenagers. With that harmonious addition, for a moment it seemed that normality had returned to the little world of Branchlion and that death had not stopped by to spoil the holidays of those who just wanted to have even just a week of serenity.