Cold Case - 3. Chapter 3

Adam and Steve visited the Spanish Steps and then went to Jeremiah Iron’s shop. The shop was locked and sealed by the police. They looked into the shop window. A few wooden art objects were displayed. They looked cheap and not appealing and they were covered with dust.

"Like Sassetti said, Irons didn’t intend to make a living with his shop. I can’t imagine he ever sold anything of that stuff," Steve said. "I can’t imagine anybody wants to buy that stuff. Cheap, rotten, dreadful, covered with dust. The shop was just a contact point."

Adam shrugged. "Well, yes, most likely. Jeremiah Irons dealt in Aztec artifacts. They are rare and precious. He was in touch with many people, costumers, sellers, and probably the people you say are the Antique Mafia. I would be surprised if he had had no connections. All these dealers have their connections and I guess that many of their activities are illegal. But they try to cover them up and mostly they succeed with it," he said.

"I’m convinced Sassetti is covering up something as well," Steve replied. "I’ll call him later. I won’t leave Rome without having found anything. There’s more to that case and I want to find it."

He turned his head and gave Adam a grim look. Adam didn’t reply and just gave a faint nod.

They walked through the streets of Rome. The day was hot and after walking around for two hours they were tired and fed up with their tour. They returned to their hotel. Adam had just entered his room when his cell phone rang. He looked at the number and promptly answered the call.

"Dad, finally," he said.

His father responded and Adam started pacing the room.

"Yes, it seems it has started again," he said and then recounted the whole story.

He listened to his father’s reply. "All right," he said. "I’ll come to your country house on Saturday afternoon."

Adam ended the call and looked at his cell phone for a second or two. Then he closed it slowly. Like he had expected, his father was highly alarmed.

An hour later, Steve knocked on his door. Adam opened it and looked out.

"I’ve called Sassetti. He agreed to meet us in a bar at ten in the evening. Will you be coming, Adam?" Steve asked.

"Sure," Adam replied. "Is it far from here?"

"No, just around the corner. I’ve already checked it," Steve replied.

They entered the bar at ten o’clock. The place was crowded and loud. Suddenly, someone pulled on Adam’s sleeve. Adam turned around. Commissario Sassetti looked at him with a frown, a cigarette between his lips. He made a gesture with his hand. Adam touched Steve’s elbow and Steve turned his head and nodded at Sassetti. They followed the man through the crowded bar into a small backroom. It was dimly lit and smelled of cigarettes and alcohol. Sassetti pointed at a worn couch. Adam and Steve sat down on it. Sassetti sat down in a chair, put out his cigarette in an ashtray and immediately lit another. He pulled on it and blew the smoke towards Adam and Steve.

"All right, signori," he said. "You wanted to talk with me again."

"Why here and not in your office room?" Steve asked.

Sassetti made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Walls have ears," he replied. He leaned forward and fixed his eyes on Adam and Steve.

"I warn you, signori. Better give up on your investigation. Close that case," he said.

"Why, commissario?" Steve asked angrily. "What the hell are you covering up?"

Sassetti leaned back in his chair and looked at the two men.

"Eleven years ago another man was killed. His heart was cut out with an obsidian knife and his body was thrown down the Spanish Steps. Jeremiah Irons was one of the suspects, but he had a watertight alibi. Like you, I suspected he belonged to the Antique Mafia, but we had no evidence against him," he said.

Steve gave a surprised whistle. "Who was the murdered man and why was Irons suspected of having killed him?" he asked.

"The victim was Angelo Falcone, rich, mighty, an art lover and a party-goer. And, more important, a Mafioso. I mean the Italian Mafia, not the Antique Mafia. We started investigating, but it was soon made clear to us that our investigation was not wanted. We were under instruction to stop it and so we stopped it. I had found out that he was one of Jeremiah Iron’s costumers. He actually met Irons about an hour before he was killed. That’s why I suspected Irons. Angelo Falcone had ordered Aztec art objects. Irons had delivered them, but Falcone refused to pay. That was why Irons requested a meeting and that was what Irons said when I questioned him. However, he withdrew his statement and said he had been mistaken. The payment had meanwhile been transferred to his account. I wanted to check Irons’ and Falcone’s accounts, but then I had to stop the investigations," Sassetti recounted.

"It seems Jeremiah Irons was bribed to silence," Steve said. "I still do suspect the Antique Mafia is behind it."

"Do you have any idea why Angelo Falcone was killed?" Adam asked.

Sassetti looked at him. "Have you spoken with your father, Mister Johnson? David Johnson is a renowned archaeologist. His special field is Aztec and Toltec culture," he said.

Adam’s muscles tensed. He leaned back in his chair.

Steve turned to him with a bewildered look. "What has your father to do with it, Adam?" he asked.

"Tell him, Mister Johnson," Sassetti said. He leaned back and pulled on his cigarette.

Adam clenched his hands.

"All right," he said. "My father heard of the murder. It was in the newspapers and on TV, albeit not for a long time, just for a day or two, and then all reports were stopped. My father was curious and looked for news, but the murder was never mentioned again. As a specialist in Aztec culture, my father was naturally interested in the murder. The murderer had performed an Aztec ritual or at least wanted the murder to come across as one. The man's heart had been cut out and his body thrown down the Spanish Steps. Angelo Falcone, the victim was a purchaser of Aztec art objects and Jeremiah Irons was a dealer in Aztec artifacts. My father was interested, of course. The murder was much discussed in archaeologist circles. My father wrote a letter to the editor of a journal and claimed that the murder was a ritual murder."

Adam fell silent.

"Why did you not tell me of it earlier?" Steve asked in an annoyed voice.

"Because his father was threatened," Sassetti said.

Steve turned his head to Sassetti and then back to Adam.

"What?" he asked.

"My father received a telephone call. A man told him to revoke his statement, else my mother and his son would be killed," Adam said.

"His son? You?" Steve asked. His eyes widened.

Adam gave a brief nod. "They showed they were dead serious about it. My father did not react to the threat. Two days later, my mother was attacked in the street and in broad daylight. They ripped her blouse off and cut the skin of her chest, right above her heart. The wound healed quickly, but my mother needed psychological treatment. My father revoked his statement and made a fool of himself. His academic colleagues laughed at him until they learned of what had happened. My father never mentioned a word again," he said.

"Good Lord," Steve said. "Are you certain the man behind the threat and the attack is the same man who killed Angelo Falcone?" he asked.

"I don’t have evidence, but I do think so," Adam replied.

"He’s mighty, powerful," Sassetti said, leaning forward. "He committed a dreadful murder, but nobody investigated a bit. Out of fear." Sassetti leaned back in his chair and measured the two men. "I cannot investigate. I regret it profoundly, signori, but my hands are tied," he said.

Steve looked between Adam and Sassetti. "What’s it about that obsidian knife that you found in the parcel?" he asked.

"It’s most likely not the knife Jeremiah Irons was killed with," Sassetti replied. "And it’s most likely not the knife Angelo Falcone was killed with. The material we secured in both cases does not match the material of the delivered knife."

"I do not get it," Steve said.

"It might just be an idiot’s joke," Sassetti said in an annoyed voice. "I don’t think it will help us a lot. Anyway, like I said, my hands are tied. Please reckon that investigations will be stopped very soon. I’m certain I’ll receive instruction to close the case." The Italian detective rose to his feet. "Signori, I need to take my leave. Close that case of yours. I understood it was burglary. I understood the insurance paid. The matter is settled. Leave it at this," he said.

"Wait," Steve said, jumping to his feet. "What about Derek Peterson? Did you come across his name eleven years ago?"

Sassetti looked at him. "No, Mister Mills, I’m afraid I never heard that name before your mentioned it," he replied.

Sassetti gave a brusque nod and then left the room. Adam and Steve gazed at the closed door.

"I don’t believe him," Steve said.

Adam turned his head to him. "Derek Peterson’s father bought his Aztec vases from Jeremiah Irons eleven years ago. Angelo Falcone was killed eleven years ago. Both men were Jeremiah Irons’ costumers. Their names were probably recorded in the books and Sassetti has read them," he said.

"I thought he dropped the case eleven years ago," Steve said in an annoyed voice.

"Apparently, some men can never close a case, even if it’s officially closed," Adam said.

Steve gazed at him. "What about your father? Did he hold his tongue?" he asked.

"For the sake of my wellbeing and my mother’s, yes," Adam replied.

***

They didn’t speak a lot the following day. Steve was grumpy and Adam was nervous, although he managed to hide his feelings from Steve. They flew back to London in the afternoon.

Steve entered Adam’s office room the following morning. "I was thinking, Adam," he said. "The case is officially closed and we’ll leave it at this." He placed three folders on Adam’s desk.

"Quite different cases. Look through the folders and then pick one," he said. He paused for an instant. "Just one more thing, Adam. We need to work in close collaboration. Never again hide anything from me. You should have told me of what happened eleven years ago. I would not have given you permission to work on the case. This was highly unprofessional, Adam."

Adam narrowed his eyes. "What about Timothy Baker, the seer. You based all your speculations on the boy’s visions. Very professional, indeed," he replied sourly.

Steve looked at him and smiled. "Yeah, I followed my guts. And I was right, wasn’t I? I chose to work with you because I thought you were the perfect partner to investigate the crime. Was I mistaken?" he asked.

Adam rolled his eyes, but then smirked. "All right," he said. "You’re a good cop, Steve. One of the best."

"I’m definitely," Steve replied with another smile. His smile disappeared and his look turned serious.

"There’s more to that case. You know, I know, and Sassetti knows as well. I want to know what this case is all about. What did you father tell you, Adam?" he asked.

"Back then, not so much. I’ve figured it out more or less on my own," Adam replied. "He was convinced that the murder was a ritual murder. He was convinced it was the deed of some secret sect that was performing a murderous cult."

"Why does the secret sect commit the murders in public? Isn’t this a contradiction in terms?" Steve asked.

"The Aztec ritual was an established habit," Adam explained. "They killed hundreds, thousands of men. A daily ritual, so to speak. The men who performed it were mighty and powerful. The ritual was a demonstration of their power."

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "The murderer is trying to demonstrate his power? What kind of power? And who does he want to impress?" he asked.

"I’ll be seeing my father on Saturday," Adam replied. "He’s currently in the States, participating in a congress. He’ll be back tomorrow night. I’m going to meet him in his country house."

"You called him?" Steve asked.

Adam nodded. "He’s alarmed as well. He has never given up on his theory. He has never forgotten a bit," he replied.

Steve looked at Adam. "How’s your mother doing?" he asked.

"They divorced six years ago. My father puts his heart and soul into his studies. She couldn’t cope with it anymore. My father reminded her every day of the threat and the danger. She married again two years ago and immigrated to Canada with her new husband. She’s happy. She’s doing fine," Adam said. He smiled briefly.

"I see," Steve replied. "And what about you? Are you single or do you have a girlfriend?"

Adam stared at Steve for an instant. "I thought you investigated on me. What did you find out?" he asked warily.

Steve gave a laugh. "Nothing. This was not what I was primarily interested in. But I read your application papers. You’re not married. But you could well have a girlfriend or have a crush on some pretty girl."

Adam smiled briefly. "No, no crush on a pretty girl," he said.

"An ugly one?" Steve asked in fake fright.

Adam gave a hoarse laugh and looked aside for an instant. "What about you?" he asked, turning his eyes back to Steve.

"Not married. Not settled. Still alive," Steve replied, laughing out loudly.

Adam smiled briefly. Steve slapped on Adam’s shoulder and then left the room. Adam exhaled with relief.

***