Commissioner Leoni gave up on using the pink fan that his wife had lent him, unable to bear the intense heat that oppressed part of the forensic medicine laboratory for a minute longer. The light breeze produced by the instrument provided a slight relief, but it took more than a small object of wood and cloth to chase away the oppressive heat. What a bad thing to be old, he thought.
Alfio Leoni was 60 years old, 37 of which he lived alongside the law. With retirement on the horizon, he couldn't wait to hang up his handcuffs and leave the long game of cops and robbers behind forever. His sense of justice was now overwhelmed by physical tiredness and the desire for a more peaceful daily life that he could not wait to dedicate to his good wife's lunches and naps. He had to confess to himself that his career as commissioner of Branchlion was not dotted with particularly exceptional cases apart from perhaps some interference from the mafia, but he could proudly say that he had always tried to enforce the law and had never fallen into the temptation of corruption as had happened to his predecessor, for which he was sadly remembered.
Him, however; what would he be remembered for?
For being a good cop who did his duty, or for the one who investigated the woman with the fishtail?
If it were to be about fame, it would surely have gone to the city itself, a fact that the journalists were demonstrating with every report aired. He was only interested in finding out the truth.
Finally, the coroner decided to let him enter the autopsy room, at least the air conditioning was working there and he didn't mind sharing it with the deceased housed in the narrow cold rooms. One of these was lying in the middle of the room on a large iron table covered with a pure white sheet. Without the file provided to him by the coroner, he would never have recognized his victim, the mermaid.
Without makeup and a wig, the girl had a simple, almost normal appearance. Her skin had a dull olive color and her hair was long and straight ivory blonde, she had a round doll's face and very elongated flat hands and feet, and her heart-shaped lips were now deathly purple. Seeing her hands, he wondered if she was a pianist, usually long and thin fingers were the prerogative of a musician, while with those feet of hers, he saw her as an expert swimmer. She noticed that her nails were very well-groomed, filed to the point that they took on the shape of drops, and on her right cheek she had a small dark birthmark that resembled a cloud.
<< Where is the rest of his body? >> asked Leoni, ironically referring to the costume.
<< Do you mean the tail? They are still examining it. >> The coroner replied to him, as he put away the last analysis tools.
<< If the water hasn't washed away all the evidence, which is very likely. >>
The Commissioner took the updated dossier of the victim, his eye immediately jumped to the cause of death which, as if underlined with a red stripe, concentrated the attention of the reader:
Name: Cynthia Remaut
Age: 38 years old
Time of death: around 00:30
Cause of death: drowning
Place of death: unknown
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<< Yes, but what we found in her lungs is not seawater. The analysis confirmed that it is tap water. >>
The commissioner looked at the coroner astonished.
Then he looked at the body as if he expected it to give him an explanation.
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<< A murder, then? >>
<< So, it would seem, but there is no evidence to prove it, yet. >>
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<< I'll go and see him as soon as I finish here. He is still in hospital due to shock. >>
<< Poor guy, it must have been terrible to hear about his wife's death. >>
<< As long as he doesn't have anything to do with it. >>
Alfio Leoni had no evidence against the only witness who knew the victim, but he was ready to bet on his certain involvement.
Jannes Lemmens was Cynthia Remaut's husband.
Originally from Malvoli, a region in the East, they had been in Branchlion on holiday for just over a week, part of a long and planned "on the road" trip along the entire coast. He was a mechanical engineer; she was a kindergarten teacher... the classic middle-class citizen. In every photo of them they were smiling and close-knit, you could say that they were a couple who oozed love from every pore and that they couldn't do without each other... and Jannes was proving this.
His eyes were red pits of desperation from which rivers of tears continued to flow, a broken heart like his would be very unlikely to heal after that tragedy. They had heard him scream the first moment the news became public, the witnesses had described him as if he were crazy as he ran aimlessly down the street calling out the name of his beloved and pulling his hair to wake up from a dream that couldn't have been true, risking being hit on the street more than once, perhaps to put an end to his first life. They had to sedate him both for their safety and for that of others... and once the effect was over, all that remained of him was a poor sad widower.
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He spoke the local language imprecisely, but just enough to be understood without the need for an interpreter. Commissioner Alfio continued to offer handkerchief after handkerchief, listening to his outburst with respect and without interrupting him.
<< She was a good woman... the children loved her so much and we were planning to have our own... I don't understand what happened... >>
<< Do you have any idea why she was disguised like that? >> He managed to ask him, finally.
For a moment Jannes seemed to blush, but Leoni couldn't tell if it was due to how much he had been crying or if it was his impression.
<< She liked mermaids since she was a child... she always dressed like that at parties. I always told her that she was beautiful, but I didn't know that she had worn a swimsuit... >>
<< Maybe she wanted to surprise you. >>
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
<< Maybe, yeah… >>
<< Tell me, Mr. Lemmens, when did you realize that your wife was missing? >>
The man claimed that his partner was not in the room with him on the morning of the discovery and had assumed that she had already gone down to the beach or that she had gone out for a solo walk. Leoni asked him the classic ritual questions: had they argued? Were there any problems during the trip? Were they having problems with anyone? Jannes replied no to all of them, reiterating how perfect their life as a couple was.
The Commissioner then asked him if he had heard her go out during the night: he could not confirm because he was taking sleeping pills for insomnia, but he told him that before falling asleep she was still awake, intent on watching television, and he remembered that they were approximately 10.14 pm.
“So there is a gap of almost three hours before death,” thought the commissioner.
What had the victim done in the meantime?
She had gone out and dressed up as a mermaid for… what reason? Just to satisfy your fantasy of pretending to be a fish? And where did she die if the sea wasn't the place where she drowned? The more he thought about it, the more he didn't find sense... and above all, his suspicion towards the man in front of him grew. It was proven that in 70.0% of cases, the murderer of homicide between couples is the husband and there he had an excellent possible example.
<< I don't agree at all. That man is not a murderer. >>
Leoni stopped the glass of coffee in front of his mouth, surprised to hear the discordant opinion of his friend Ottavia.
The woman had invited him to have a chat and a coffee.
Fortunately, fresh air from the sea entered the living room, the smell of salt was so strong that now and then it overpowered that of the drink. Ottavia wore a simple sundress with four different shades of blue suitable for the climate, despite the heat she wore a thin veil of makeup which made her beautiful green eyes and full lips still charming. Legally he could not have shared information on the case, but rumors had reached him that the lady had a certain "influence" regarding police cases due to her intervention in a famous incident which had made her somewhat famous among her colleagues. Precisely this talk, however incredible, had convinced him to break the rules.
Regardless of the rumors, Alfio and Ottavia had become good friends since her arrival in the country.
<< A man so in love wouldn't have touched a hair on her head. Look at how much happiness in their smiles, the love in their genuine hugs and kisses. They loved each other. >>
Ottavia couldn't help but feel a sort of happiness as she examined the photos of the couple, she felt like saying "how good they look together!". Having also heard the opinions of the commissioner, she was still more than certain of her innocence.
This one instead groaned in annoyance.
<< Whoever is guilty must know how to pretend. Some are so good they can be actors. >>
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<< I'm just saying that many things don't add up: the sleeping pills, the scene in the street... it all seems planned on purpose. >>
<< Let's pretend he's involved. For what purpose, in your opinion, would he have killed her? >>
The question posed to him by Ottavia was not unusual for the commissioner, it was one of the points that the investigators asked each other during the investigations. Yet, for some reason, the way she asked him about it made him feel… embarrassed.
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<< I don't know yet, we don't have enough evidence yet. But I'm sure he's involved. He's certainly hiding something; my instinct tells me so. >>
Ottavia did not doubt the man's investigative experience but, in her opinion, relying on an already fixed idea like that of the guilty husband was wrong.
She couldn't change his mind even when he left, advising him to keep his mind open to other possibilities.
When she said that her husband wasn't involved it wasn't out of naivety or pure pity, hers was certainty given to her by how he behaved.
By managing her tearoom, Ottavia had learned to observe people and decipher their behavior, regardless of whether they were regular customers or new. The way a person spoke, acted... even how she lifted a cup or ate could reveal so many details about their personality and very often her guesses turned out to be right.
The video of Jemmis was doing the rounds on the web with a lot of popularity at the time - it was amazing how people recorded everything, she thought - being linked to the news of the mermaid: in it, you could see how desperate he was as he ran and screamed. How can someone pretend like that so believably? No, in that case, he wasn't a fake at all as the commissioner was convinced.
However, she had to agree with him about one thing: there was something strange.
He went down to the beach and reached the place where the body was found, addressing a silent prayer to heaven. The area was still cordoned off, someone had left bouquets and soft toys near a red flag perhaps left by the police at the end of the investigations.
From a safe distance, life continued as if nothing had happened, between diving into the waves and chatting under the umbrella, deliberately trying to ignore the traces of the tragedy. The wind, the water, and the time would one day erase that bad memory, but until then the effort would have to be made to live with that dark reminder.
She continued walking along the seafront, passing under the shadows of the palm trees that divided the road in half, passing groups of teenagers who were busy running on the beach or runners who braved the heat to stay fit, while the crystalline sea offered energetic waves to the younger bathers who rode them with mattresses and donuts. As the walk continued, the style of the homes changed, the low and modest houses occupied by large families were gradually replaced by buildings that had been recently renovated and were even more exclusive to the eye, slightly changing the appearance of the area which now had a refined appearance.
Ottavia stopped in front of the “Gentle Grotto” Hotel, the place where the victim had made a temporary love nest with her partner.
The structure was large, snow white with dark green shutters, equipped with beautiful and welcoming rooms furnished with modern and luxurious furniture, each with one or even two balconies overlooking the area inside and outside. Among the various services provided, the hotel offered an excellent restaurant, a relaxation area that also served as a lobby, and a swimming pool with an unusual bean shape. Ottavia knew all this through the photos and reviews uploaded directly to the site. Even though the entrance consisted of a simple staircase of eight narrow steps and a small gate, she knew she could not enter freely without being stopped by someone from the staff who constantly monitored her, most likely to prevent non-customers from taking advantage of the open-air swimming pool.
She tried to identify with it: where could she go in the evening, with a bag or perhaps a suitcase, in which she had put her elaborate costume inside, in a place like this?
The way she was made up, she looked like she had been to some extravagant party suitable for pubs or discos. The beaches acted as substitutes for those environments, but that evening there had been no music or entertainment events scheduled in any of the three places and she remembered it well. It was certain that she had not stopped to have a drink or an ice cream, from the questions asked the bartenders and staff did not remember having seen her... even if it was difficult to confirm it because remembering a face among all those who passed by in hundreds between the day and the evening did not it was easy.
She had gone to a specific place… perhaps far away. But where?
She suddenly heard the typical echo of police car sirens.
From the nearby road, three black cars appeared skidding dangerously around the narrow curve, stopping in the middle of the road and risking hitting the streetlamps and the pavement. A dozen officers got out of the vehicles and ran into the hotel, attracting the attention of both the staff and the guests looking out the windows. Behind her she heard a breathless huff: the Commissioner, who had left her just a handful of minutes earlier, was quickly reaching her, running with one hand resting on his right hip.
<< I knew that meeting her would bring me luck. >> he told her with a satisfied smile.
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<< We received a tip while I was talking to you. This will give a big boost to the case. >>
The man took the phone and, with exhausting patience, opened an email that had arrived at the police station's email address. The content included only the link to an internet page already opened separately by the commissioner, of which the text that began with "The 10 sites of..." could be partially read. She didn't frequent the world of the web much, but when she surfed it, she was easily ensnared by those pages of rankings and curiosities about the world.
<< it is a delicate material. Do you feel like…? >>
<< Just show me. >>
The title of the page appeared in large letters quoting with a winking emoji at the end “The 10 most bizarre fetish sites on the web”.
His eyes widened in surprise, uttering a simple “oh”.
Ottavia blushed brightly, avoiding the man's embarrassed glances.
She browsed the peculiar list with descriptions and photos attached under each link, trying not to pay too much attention to those embarrassing contents. But at a certain point a photo, specifically pointed out to her by the policeman, caught her gaze, attracted by familiar elements that she had already seen recently. She told himself it wasn't possible, but her eyes weren't wrong: a photo of the victim in her mermaid costume was on that list.