BODY FOUND BY HIKERS IN CANNEGIA BELIEVED TO BE MISSING MAN
The remains of a body have been found in the mountains near the village of Cannegia, north of Milan, a small village whose only claim to fame is that it is the birthplace of legendary opera star, Lucia de Santis.
Though the identity of the body has not yet been confirmed, there has been speculation amongst residents that it is Lorenzo Mancini, a local man who went missing over a decade ago.
Police were unable to say whether the body was that of the missing man as they wait for formal identification to be carried out. They added that, while it appeared to be a tragic accident, they were unable to rule out foul play.
The investigation continues.
Gina shivered. Despite the warmth of the bar, a chill flooded through her, as though her bones had turned to ice.
She gulped down the rest of her Negroni, hearing her mother’s voice once again: The world will catch up with you, my girl.
It seemed her mother had been right.
‘Ouch! What the hell are you doing?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry …’
Lucia narrowed her eyes and glared at the poor assistant dresser who was helping her to get changed out of her elaborate costume. ‘I should have you fired for your incompetence.’
‘No, please don’t … I’m sorry.’ The young woman looked terrified. She had sallow skin and mousy hair and Lucia’s overriding feeling was one of pity for what she felt sure must be this poor girl’s very dull life. Imagine having to work alongside such greatness every day, knowing that you would never achieve the same dizzy heights. It made Lucia quite forgiving.
‘Luckily for you, I’m in a good mood, so I won’t,’ Lucia said benevolently. It was true. She was in a good mood. Gina had confirmed that Marco had agreed to dinner tomorrow evening, and Lucia was surprised to find how much she was looking forward to it. He really was quite delicious. If she had her way, he would be all she needed for dessert, she thought, her wicked smile reflected back at her in the dressing-room mirror.
La Leonessa sat back and gazed at her image, as she slowly transformed from her character, Violetta, back into Lucia de Santis. It was a time-consuming process – almost as lengthy as getting dressed in the first place. First of all, her beautiful costume was removed. It was a period production, so she wore a lavish ballgown in a deep shade of crimson, decorated with gold embroidery, with half a dozen layers of netting underneath to give it volume. It was off the shoulders with a Bardot neckline, to perfectly display her voluptuous figure, and the corsetry was light to ensure she could breathe without restrictions while singing.
After the dress came the wig, which this incompetent fool was trying to take off her head, ripping out Lucia’s real hair in the process. Finally it was done, and Lucia removed her hairnet and pins, the platinum-blonde waves tumbling down and falling around her bare shoulders. She was still wearing the thick, heavy stage make-up, but the effect was dramatic and she rather liked it.
Tonight she wanted to have some fun. Perhaps she would go to one of the exclusive Carnival parties, she thought, idly glancing over the many invitations that littered her dressing-room table. Then tomorrow would be her dinner date with Marco. She was definitely looking forward to that. Which reminded her …
‘Out! Get out!’ she suddenly shrieked, flapping her hands at the dressers and assistants and hangers-on who were crowding her dressing room, praising her after another impeccable performance. Didn’t they have anything better to do with their sad little lives, she thought dismissively.
‘I need some privacy. Basta! Vai!’ Lucia snapped, shooing them away and closing the door. She quickly got dressed, pulling on a white cashmere dress that fitted her like a second skin, showing off her incredible curves. Then she picked up her phone to call her agent.
‘Ciao, Bianca.’
‘Ciao, Lucia,’ came the reply. Lucia didn’t need to announce herself – her agent knew exactly who it was, and was on call for her twenty-four seven.
‘Tomorrow, I’m going for dinner with a man. Marco DiMaggio,’ Lucia announced, rolling his name around on her tongue and enjoying how it sounded. ‘We’re going to La Sirena, and we absolutely must have the window table, furthest from the door, OK?’
‘Of course, Lucia, I’ll call the restaurant and confirm. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.’
‘It had better not be,’ Lucia snapped back.
At the other end of the line, Bianca barely batted an eyelid – she was used to these kinds of demands, not to mention Lucia’s rudeness. ‘But are you sure you want to be near the window? If any fans spot you, it’ll cause a riot. Wouldn’t you prefer somewhere more discreet?’
‘Oh, no,’ Lucia smiled. ‘I’ve told the paparazzi exactly where I’ll be, and that’s the place to get the best shot – the light there is so flattering.’
There was a pause, and Lucia could almost hear her agent frowning down the line. ‘I don’t understand—’
‘You’re not paid to understand,’ Lucia shot back. ‘You take fifteen per cent to do as I say.’
There was another long silence before Bianca replied coolly, ‘Of course. I’ll arrange it right away.’
Lucia hung up, looked at her reflection, and smiled. She looked incredible. And her plan was coming together perfectly.
Lombardy, October 1985
From their vantage point close to the ravine, two eyes watched warily from the secluded safety of the dense trees. They saw Lorenzo follow the girl, and the way he looked at her with lust-filled eyes, and how the girl’s flushed face turned from flattered to fearful, the way her body tensed as Lorenzo held her wrists tightly with his fists. Then the struggle, the screams, as he pulled at her clothes and her hair; then the terrible moment that Lorenzo’s body appeared to hover in mid-air before it disappeared over the edge with a piercing cry.
The eyes had watched as the beautiful young girl had fled the scene and now, as the figure emerged from its hiding place, they looked down over the edge to where the man’s body lay on the ledge far below.
The eyes were cold – and almost emotionless – as they took in the broken and crushed shape of the young man below, now still and lifeless. The figure stood silently for a moment, then slipped back into the forest, leaving only the birds and the mountains to their silence.
Chapter 20
Detective Roberto Gallo stepped off the train at Venice Santa Lucia station and looked around him. He was a staid, serious-looking figure, wearing a dark grey suit and a black wool overcoat, incongruous amongst the eager tourists who were arriving from all over the continent. Even here, people were dressed for Carnevale in extravagant costumes and bright colours.
Though he was outwardly unmoved, Detective Gallo was daunted by the city. He’d rarely left his home province, save for the occasional holiday in the Italian countryside, or beach holidays in Puglia with his wife, and this was his first time in Venice. He felt like a country mouse amidst the crowds. Outside the station, the Grand Canal itself lay across the small piazza, the domed church of San Simeone Piccolo dominating the background, flanked by magnificent palazzos in faded shades of cream and terracotta.
