Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I was thinking that this could be her first homicide when she pointed to the street and said, “I’m part of the forensic department. I’m going to get my equipment.”
I stepped aside to let her past. I was sure she was a newbie. I’d never met her before, and given her age, she hadn’t been with the police for long. For once, at least they hadn’t taken hours to show up.
I entered the old, tiled corridor and headed toward what I thought was the living room. I found the police officer in charge of the investigation mid-interrogation. Sitting across from him, on a sofa from God knows what decade, was an old woman. This had to be the homeowner, Madeleine Barale, Bruno Santoni’s great-aunt. I knew my colleague well, as he was none other than my little sister Lara’s boyfriend, Adam Leonard.
“Leonard,” I said, to let him know I was there.
“Rossi Number 1,” he said, hardly looking up from his notebook.
I hated that nickname, just like every other one I was given. The issue was that there were two police officers called Rossi in Nice, and the other (nicknamed Number 2, as you could probably guess), was none other than my brother Luca. To my great disappointment, people had started calling us that. At least our two other brothers didn’t have numbers, as they had different professions. There was Remy Rossi the firefighter and Callum Rossi the lawyer. Callum, however, was often given worse nicknames depending on who he was representing.
It had once happened that Luca was on call, and Remy found himself taking an injured person to the ER. I was in charge of the investigation, and Callum was chosen as the defense attorney. It was a 100% Rossi vicious cycle. Only our little sister was excluded, as she was a wedding planner (unless there was an unhappy ending).
While Adam was finishing up his interrogation, I went to look at the victim. The man was lying in the center of the kitchen floor. Cereal, in the shape of little chocolate bears, was scattered at his feet. I couldn’t imagine a criminal being hungry after the fact, but it happened more often than you would think. My question was who ate children’s cereal in the middle of the afternoon? Why not a coffee or a slice of cake?
Before I could solve the mystery of the cereal, I had a much bigger problem, namely finding the guy who put a bullet between his eyes. This execution-style murder was pure Santoni. Clean, efficient… well, if you ignored the viscous substance now splattered all over the kitchen cabinets. The forensic scientist was going to have her work cut out for her. I hoped the young blonde had a strong stomach. I certainly wasn’t hungry anymore.
I looked at the dead man and wondered what he might have looked like just a few hours ago, before the light left his eyes. Did he have a bad feeling when he got up this morning? Did he fear for his life when he got here? Nobody can imagine themselves dying in a kitchen, even less so next to teddy bears that seemed to taunt you with their little smiles.
He looked like your everyday, average guy. No one was born with the face of a mobster, not even Santoni.
The victim was in his forties, with slightly unruly hair, a belly that suggested a love of good food, and an old but clean t-shirt with a sports brand logo.
I hadn’t heard Adam join me until he was standing right next to me.
“Do you have any idea who it is?” I asked.
“None. I’m hoping the forensic team can help us on that.”
“I bumped into one of them outside. She left to get her gear.”
“Great, I didn’t know they were already here.”
“What have we got?”
“Not a lot. According to Mrs. Barale, she was taking a nap when the shot was fired. Her nephew Bruno Santoni was supposed to be having a coffee with one of his friends, but she was asleep when he arrived. It was a woman who sounded the alert and who, according to the first people on the scene, said she saw Santoni in the kitchen, gun in hand, before escaping. She’s a student who lives in the guesthouse out back, but she’d come into the kitchen to ask Mrs. Barale if she could borrow some milk for her cereal. She heard the gunshot as she walked through the door.”
“Let me guess, she was eating little chocolate bears?”
“Yeah, she dropped the bowl when she found the body.”
“Fair enough,” I mumbled before asking, “Where is she now? If she saw our guy, I’d like to talk to her.”
“She’s being kept in one of the rooms upstairs. We wanted to interrogate the two women separately so they couldn’t influence each other’s story. I have an officer outside the room.”