Assignment Milan, page 13
From a workbench behind him, he took a square of leather and held it out to Nico. “Tanned from calf hide. Feel it. As soft as the bottom of a baby. I make shoes for you from this, and you will be walking through a cloud.”
He grasped another piece and held it out to Vittorio. “Goat hide. No leather tougher than this. I put it underneath to protect the soft upper part.” He smiled as he added, “Goat hide will last longer than me, maybe even longer than you.”
The cobbler dipped a rag into a container of liquid on his workbench and handed it to Nico. “Here. This will clean some of the pig shit. Not all, but some.”
When they had removed as much of the muck as possible, the shoemaker measured their feet. “Come back in two days,” he said, then he returned his attention to the platform shoes he was working on when Nico and Vittorio had interrupted him.
Nico and Vittorio continued to Messer Avocino’s office. At the top of the stairs on the upper level of the building, they could hear Avocino speaking with someone in his office at the far end of the corridor, so they waited by the stairs, hoping that the conference would end soon. The hallway channeled sound, allowing Nico to hear every word of the instructions being given by Avocino to his aide. Nico recalled that the first time he had come to Avocino’s office to discuss the Salvetti abduction, the lawyer had also left his office door open, enabling anyone in the hallway to eavesdrop on his conversation. Nico vowed that if he ever had an office of his own, he would close the door when he consulted with clients.
Before long, the clerk emerged from Avocino’s office and went across the hall to another office where three other men were working. From their dress and their actions, it appeared the two men preparing documents were notaries. Nico judged the third man to be another clerk.
Nico tapped on the open office door to get Avocino’s attention. The lawyer looked up from the document he was reading and signaled for Nico and Vittorio to enter. “Come in. Be seated. I received a report that the body from Gaggiano was identified as Signor Salvetti, but I suspect you already know that since you are probably the ones who made the identification.”
Nico would have acknowledged Avocino’s assumption with a single word or a nod, but Vittorio, the always precise investigator, said, “We brought one of Salvetti’s servants to the army camp. He is the one who identified the body.”
“There is more,” Nico added. “We have just returned from Gaggiano, where we learned that two men were involved in Salvetti’s abduction and murder. One of them is named Bruno, and he lives in Milan. We thought that if Bruno had been in trouble in the past, you might know of him and how to find him.”
“I do not recall ever prosecuting anyone named Bruno; however, I only prosecute crimes in this district. If he had ever been apprehended in another district, I would not know of him, but there is someone who might. Do you know Bruno’s surname?”
“The person we spoke with in Gaggiano was not sure of the surname. He thought it might be Palmieri or Parmerini.”
Avocino shouted, “Alessandro!”
The same clerk who had left Avocino’s office earlier poked his head into the room. Now Nico understood why Avocino kept his office door open: it saved him from having to walk across the hall. Nico thought, maybe someday there will be a way to call a person in another office without having to shout.
Avocino said to the clerk, “See if Sergeant Dellanetta is available to join us.”
While they waited for the sergeant, Avocino said, “You said that two men were involved in the killing. Do you know the name of the second man?”
Nico shook his head. “No. Salvetti was kept at a farm owned by Bruno’s cousin. The cousin is the one who told us about Bruno, but he does not know the name of the other man.”
“What is happening to the cousin?” Avocino asked.
A somewhat cynical Vittorio answered, “Officials in Gaggiano said that the army would decide whether to charge him for being involved in the crime. The cousin is a pig farmer. His farm is the only source of pork for people in the town. Those in Gaggiano who enjoy pork might become unhappy if their only pork supplier is imprisoned. I suspect the food preferences of the people in town will influence whether the pig farmer is prosecuted.”
A lanky man with a narrow face and pointy jaw appeared in the doorway. His hair was pulled back in a horsetail, and his chin held a hint of black stubble. Avocino motioned for him to enter and introduced him. “Sergeant Dellanetta oversees all criminal records in this district. The Office of the Podestà sends reports of all suspects and criminals to each district in the city. In this district, the reports are received by Sergeant Dellanetta.”
Avocino turned to the sergeant. “A murder has been committed in Gaggiano by a man known as Bruno who lives here in Milan. His surname might be Palmieri or something similar. Do you recognize the name?”
“I have seen reports for someone called Bruno. I don’t recall the surname,” Dellanetta replied, then he bellowed, “Alessandro!”
Seconds later, the clerk dutifully appeared in the doorway. “In the cabinet behind my desk is a thick blue folio.” Before the sergeant could give further instructions, Alessandro spun around and sped away through the hallway.
Alessandro returned with an overstuffed folio. Dellanetta removed three pages and spread them across Avocino’s desk. “These three reports describe thefts in which a man called Bruno is a suspect.” He picked up one of the reports and referring to it said, “A victim in one of the crimes claimed he heard the name Bruno. His wife said she heard the name of a second man. She said his name sounded like ‘Tonno,’ but she was so frightened that her memory is not reliable. None of the victims saw the thieves because the crimes were committed at night. Since the guardia had nothing other than the name Bruno, it took no action. All three of these incidents in these reports were thefts. None involved violence, and certainly not murder.”
“This case does,” noted Vittorio. “Bruno’s cousin has identified him as one of the abductors of Signor Salito Salvetti, the head bookkeeper at the Medici bank, the man whose body was found at Gaggiano. Do the reports say where Bruno lives or how to find him?”
“No. Again, there was not enough information to identify him.”
Nico said, “In Florence, criminals and thieves regularly frequent taverns and brothels. I assume that is so in Milan as well. Would it be possible for your men to ask patrons of these places if anyone knows him?”
The sergeant tried unsuccessfully to suppress a burst of laughter. “That approach might work in Florence, but here in Milan, thugs and lowlifes don’t talk to members of the guardia.”
Nico pressed, “What if your men don’t wear uniforms? That way they would not be recognized as members of the guardia.”
Out of respect for the naïve foreigner, the sergeant refrained from further laughter. “Thieves in this city know my officers better than they know their own mothers. My men could dress as nuns, and they would still be recognized. Thieves take pride in being able to identify anyone who might imprison them.”
Nico tried one last time, “Would it be possible to ask the tavern owners?”
Dellanetta spread his palms in a dismissive gesture. “If it became known that a tavern owner cooperated with us, he would lose all of his patrons. Your ideas are excellent, but they would not succeed here in Milan. I wish I had some officers who are unknown to the criminals, but I do not.”
Seeing Nico’s disappointment, Dellanetta tried to be helpful, “What we can do is have our officers question criminals who are already in prison. Those in prison often reveal information in exchange for a simple favor. Prison food is not the best, as you might imagine. Two days past, a prisoner gave us the name of his cohort in exchange for a focaccia from a nearby trattoria. It does not take much incentive to loosen the tongue of a hungry man.”
The sergeant, deep in thought, rubbed his chin before continuing. “I will do this because the captain said you openly shared information you had gathered. But understand, I can only do this unofficially. Salvetti’s murder is now under the purview of the army. We cannot take official action.”
Massimo was already at the guest house when Nico and Vittorio arrived after their meeting with Avocino. He had bathed, groomed his hair, and was wearing his finest tunic. He sat on a couch, sipping a glass of wine and grinning broadly.
“What are you so happy about?” Nico asked. “Did you have a roll with Portinari’s maid?”
“Better than that, lawyer. The contessa invited us to dinner again tonight, and her sister Benedetta will be joining us. One of the servants assured me that the fair lady is not betrothed.”
“Is that all you learned in the army, how to drink wine and chase women?” Nico quipped.
“Of course not; I also learned to gamble.”
Nico attempted to inject discipline into the banter saying, “Just remember, you are a representative of the Florentine government.”
But Massimo kept jesting. “Oh, I won’t forget. I told you my newest discovery is that nothing impresses women more than diplomatic credentials.”
Nico parried again. “Benedetta belongs to a noble family. Her father was a marchese. If you offend her, the Milanese nobility may cut away one of your most favored parts.”
“Now you are getting my attention.” Massimo laughed, took another sip of wine, then he turned serious. “Have you made any progress in resolving Salvetti’s abduction?”
Nico and Vittorio took turns describing the identification of the body, their findings in Gaggiano, and the discussions with Messer Avocino. When they finished, Massimo asked, “What do you intend to do next?”
Vittorio replied, “I will continue interviewing people at the bank, but with different questions now that we know Salvetti was killed. Abductions and beatings are ways that criminals convince victims to settle gambling and other debts but killing does not serve that purpose. I need to give more attention to other motives.
“We must also search for the person named Bruno. He is responsible for Salvetti’s murder, and we know he is somewhere in Milan. Sergeant Dellanetta said people in the taverns won’t talk with the guardia officers, but I am not known here in Milan. I can visit taverns in the city to ask about Bruno. There is no reason people won’t talk with me.”
Massimo burst out laughing. “Never did anyone look more like a member of the guardia than you. If you go into a tavern, all the miscreants will disappear like rats leaving a sinking ship.”
Vittorio didn’t know whether to feel pleased or offended by Massimo’s remark.
Massimo continued, “If there is anyone who can get information from lowlifes, it is me. Spending time in taverns is also a favorite pastime of soldiers. I can easily blend in with the drunks of Milan.”
Nico laughed. “You’ve often said with pride that drinking, gambling, and chasing women rank high among your skills, so if you hadn’t become a soldier, might you have become a hunted criminal?”
Massimo shrugged. He knew Nico’s inference was made in jest, still, he felt compelled to defend his profession. “It’s true that soldiers and criminals enjoy similar diversions but that does not mean our lives are the same.” After reflecting for a moment, he said, “The florin and the denaro both carry images of Saint John and the lily, but no one would trade one coin for the other.”
“A perfect comparison,” Nico agreed, “because between those high and low value coins is the soldo. It can represent the mercenaries. Some people claim that mercenaries have value, whereas others regard them as having little worth.”
Vittorio raised a hand to interrupt the banter. “Those analogies are entertaining but flawed because good men and bad men can be found in each group.”
Nico raised an eyebrow. “Good men among criminals?”
“And also misdeeds by holy men,” Vittorio replied. “Two years past I attended mass in Pisa on the feast of San Ranieri. When the service ended, a priest following close behind a well-dressed parishioner lifted the man’s coin purse and dropped it into the poor box.”
Massimo smiled. “Did you apprehend the priest?”
“Fortunately, it did not come to that. The priest saw me watching him, so he retrieved the coin purse and returned it to the owner who thought that he had dropped it. To show his appreciation for its return, the wealthy patron gave a generous donation to the church.”
Nico said, “Still, you must have been conflicted.”
“I was.”
“Returning to the matter at hand,” Massimo said. “I intend to devote my full energies tomorrow to sampling the beers available in the taverns of Milan…and seeking a thief named Bruno.”
23
Privy Council Chancery, Milan
Giorgio, a clerk at the Privy Council Chancery, stared at a note he picked from the stack of incoming correspondence. Confused by the wording, he asked his colleague, “Filippo, do you understand what this means? It asks, ‘Is it permitted to release the body of Signor Salvetti to his family?’”
“Who sent the note?”
“A physician at the army camp. I don’t know why he is asking the council for permission to dispose of a body. The military has procedures for disposing of remains.”
“I don’t understand either,” replied Filippo, “but I’m glad that you found that notice instead of me. It makes no sense. I would ignore it.” Giorgio took his friend’s suggestion and placed the paper in the waste pile with other useless information sent to the council each day.
For the next two hours, while Giorgio went about his regular duties, he kept thinking about the discarded query. If it had come from a low-level bureaucrat, he would not be concerned, but surely the army physician had a reason for inquiring. Finally, curiosity got the better of him, and Giorgio rummaged through the trash basket and retrieved the note. “I am going to the army camp,” he told Filippo. “I need to find the reason why this note was sent to the Chancery.”
The army camp was three miles outside the city. It was a permanent encampment with soldiers living in buildings, not tents. The military unit numbered in the thousands, so the facility resembled a mid-sized town. A guard at the perimeter fence directed Giorgio to the medical building, where he found the physician who had sent the message.
“I am from the Privy Council,” Giorgio announced. “You sent this note asking for the Council’s permission to release the body of a Signor Salvetti. The army has procedures for handling the remains of its soldiers, so why are you asking the Council for permission?”
“The dead man was not in the army,” the physician replied, “He was a foreigner whose body was recovered in Gaggiano. He was murdered. The officials sent the body here because the army has jurisdiction in murder cases.”
A murdered foreigner. That raised Giorgio’s anxiety.
“His name was Salito Salvetti. The Florentine diplomats who identified the body said that he was the head bookkeeper at the Medici bank.”
A foreigner murdered. Foreign diplomats identified the body. Oh, shit, the stunned clerk thought. “Oh, shit,” he said aloud. “You said foreign diplomats. Who were they?” Giorgio stammered.
“I don’t recall their names. There were two of them, and they had a letter pressed with the Florentine seal. So, can I release the body?”
“I don’t know. I’m just a clerk.” Giorgio’s face paled, and his breathing quickened. “This is not good. This is not good,” he muttered, turned and strode away.
He did not hear the physician’s final words, “The body is starting to decay.”
The advantage of being a lowly clerk is that troublesome problems can be passed up the chain of command to a superior. Back at the chancery, Giorgio scoured the building looking for his immediate supervisor. Unable to find the uschiero, he went directly to the chancellor.
The chancellor was the fourth and youngest son of a silk merchant. At an early age, the child’s tutor recognized that the boy had an uncanny ability to remember facts. Using a stack of cards with different drawings on one side, the tutor demonstrated the boy’s memorization skill to a member of the Council of Justice by having the boy recall the pictures on an array of twenty cards placed face down. The boy passed the test by correctly recalling each image. That simple demonstration impressed the council member who set the young boy on a path of government service. Initially, the boy served as a clerk at the Council of Justice; gradually, he rose in status to become Chancellor of the Privy Council.
Every official report and record pertaining to foreigners came to the attention of the chancellor, who filed the details in his limitless memory. The chancellor was pouring through a new stack of documents when Giorgio filled his doorway.
“Excuse me, sir, but we have received a request that needs rapid attention.”
The chancellor signaled for Giorgio to enter and held out his hand to accept the sheet that Giorgio was holding. “It is a peculiar request,” he said after reading the note.
The chancellor closed his eyes, pressed a hand to his temple, and let his mind scan through recent reports. Salvetti, Salvetti, he kept telling himself. Then finally, he said aloud, “Two recent reports mentioned the name Salvetti.”
He summoned an aide and instructed him to retrieve the reports. Giorgio trembled as he recounted what the army physician had told him. “Salvetti was a foreigner, and two foreign diplomats identified his body,” he explained.
The aide returned with two sheets and handed them to the chancellor, who read them aloud for the benefit of Giorgio and his supervisor, who had joined the meeting.
“This report was submitted by an official and physician in the town of Gaggiano.”
A body was found in the Naviglio Grande at Gaggiano. A stone tied to the body kept it submerged for an extended period, making it difficult to tell how long it had been in the water. It appeared that a heavy object struck and fractured the skull.
