the traders in the area. We must try to discover a little more about this art dealer. Something that justifies his suicide.”
"Okay, I'll call Di Girolamo, so we can get to work immediately."
“Thank you, Angelo.”
November 13
T he first person to enter Germano's office that morning was Gianna Bezzi. She was the wife of the septuagenarian art dealer found dead the previous evening. After some brief pleasantries, he invited her to sit down.
"Mrs. Bezzi, I confess I would have liked to meet you in different circumstances. Unfortunately, the procedure requires me to ask you some questions.”
"Commissioner, go ahead. I would ask you to try to close this matter as soon as possible."
"I will make it my priority. I want to start with the letter found close to the body."
"What letter?”
"It’s just a couple of lines that seem to explain his action.”
"Could you be more precise?"
"The letter we recovered was written in his own hand. It said, ‘I have tried to understand my many mistakes. There is only one thing I could not understand, and that is what hurts me the most.’”
"I haven't the faintest idea what he meant."
"From what we can see, it appears that Mr. Riva made some mistakes in his life. Mistakes for which he apologized, and perhaps obtained forgiveness. Nevertheless, I wish to look into this matter further."
"With me, Carlo has always behaved well. Even with our son Michael, who is thirty-two, and lives on his own by the Tiber. I can’t think of anything serious that would cause him to kill himself."
“Mrs. Bezzi, did your husband beat you?”
“Are you kidding? My husband was a gentleman, with a capital G.”
“How was his relationship with your son?”
"It always seemed good to me, they talked a lot. I’d say there were no secrets. He always wanted our son to go his own way and be independent. Everyone would have liked a father like Carlo.”
“I understand, Mrs. Bezzi. May I ask when you first met your husband?”
"Of course you can, it was forty years ago. He was already an art lover who traded in the lower end of the market. I used to help my father who owned a similar business. That’s how we met, how it all started.”
"Were there moments in the past when Carlo seemed anxious or distracted by anything?"
“Only with the death of his parents. When he thought about it, he seemed to be another person.”
“He became violent?”
"No, quite the contrary, he became quiet and extremely thoughtful. Completely different from the fun person, full of plans and ideas that he’d always been."
"I see. We're done for now, Mrs. Bezzi. As soon as we have some news or any other information, we’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, Commissioner. Do you want me to call in my son? I know you wanted to talk to him, so we came together.”
“Yes, thank you. Please send him in.”
Michele Riva was little different from many men in their thirties. Ordered, silent and watchful. He approached Germano and they shook hands. The Commissioner invited him to sit.
"Hello Michele. Would you like something to drink?"
"No thanks, I just had a coffee with your colleagues."
“I called you because as you may know, I’m investigating the alleged suicide of your father.”
“Alleged? Why alleged?”
“Let’s just say that we’ll be more certain after the autopsy, which is being done now. Clearly, everything suggests that he deliberately decided to kill himself. At least, we strongly believe that hypothesis."
"What did you want to talk to me about, Commissioner?"
"Tell me about the relationship you had with your father."
"He was an exemplary father. Seriously, I don’t say that just because he’s dead, and so has earned the moral right to some sort of praise. He was great, honestly."
"You were very fond of him, huh?"
"He always allowed me to follow my own ideas, without any interference. In fact, he always attempted to prevent anyone from trying to influence me"
"Could you explain that?
"Okay, I'll call Di Girolamo, so we can get to work immediately."
“Thank you, Angelo.”
November 13
T he first person to enter Germano's office that morning was Gianna Bezzi. She was the wife of the septuagenarian art dealer found dead the previous evening. After some brief pleasantries, he invited her to sit down.
"Mrs. Bezzi, I confess I would have liked to meet you in different circumstances. Unfortunately, the procedure requires me to ask you some questions.”
"Commissioner, go ahead. I would ask you to try to close this matter as soon as possible."
"I will make it my priority. I want to start with the letter found close to the body."
"What letter?”
"It’s just a couple of lines that seem to explain his action.”
"Could you be more precise?"
"The letter we recovered was written in his own hand. It said, ‘I have tried to understand my many mistakes. There is only one thing I could not understand, and that is what hurts me the most.’”
"I haven't the faintest idea what he meant."
"From what we can see, it appears that Mr. Riva made some mistakes in his life. Mistakes for which he apologized, and perhaps obtained forgiveness. Nevertheless, I wish to look into this matter further."
"With me, Carlo has always behaved well. Even with our son Michael, who is thirty-two, and lives on his own by the Tiber. I can’t think of anything serious that would cause him to kill himself."
“Mrs. Bezzi, did your husband beat you?”
“Are you kidding? My husband was a gentleman, with a capital G.”
“How was his relationship with your son?”
"It always seemed good to me, they talked a lot. I’d say there were no secrets. He always wanted our son to go his own way and be independent. Everyone would have liked a father like Carlo.”
“I understand, Mrs. Bezzi. May I ask when you first met your husband?”
"Of course you can, it was forty years ago. He was already an art lover who traded in the lower end of the market. I used to help my father who owned a similar business. That’s how we met, how it all started.”
"Were there moments in the past when Carlo seemed anxious or distracted by anything?"
“Only with the death of his parents. When he thought about it, he seemed to be another person.”
“He became violent?”
"No, quite the contrary, he became quiet and extremely thoughtful. Completely different from the fun person, full of plans and ideas that he’d always been."
"I see. We're done for now, Mrs. Bezzi. As soon as we have some news or any other information, we’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, Commissioner. Do you want me to call in my son? I know you wanted to talk to him, so we came together.”
“Yes, thank you. Please send him in.”
Michele Riva was little different from many men in their thirties. Ordered, silent and watchful. He approached Germano and they shook hands. The Commissioner invited him to sit.
"Hello Michele. Would you like something to drink?"
"No thanks, I just had a coffee with your colleagues."
“I called you because as you may know, I’m investigating the alleged suicide of your father.”
“Alleged? Why alleged?”
“Let’s just say that we’ll be more certain after the autopsy, which is being done now. Clearly, everything suggests that he deliberately decided to kill himself. At least, we strongly believe that hypothesis."
"What did you want to talk to me about, Commissioner?"
"Tell me about the relationship you had with your father."
"He was an exemplary father. Seriously, I don’t say that just because he’s dead, and so has earned the moral right to some sort of praise. He was great, honestly."
"You were very fond of him, huh?"
"He always allowed me to follow my own ideas, without any interference. In fact, he always attempted to prevent anyone from trying to influence me"
"Could you explain that?
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