Who Killed Don

By Pen Avram

When Kroupa and Hendrych investigate the death of an Italian crime boss, the trail leads to Venice, where they dredge up deadly secrets from its murky waters. However, the hunter soon becomes the hunted, while following a lead to La Paz, in their most dangerous case yet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen Avram
• Release date: Sep 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465838254

Pen Avram

This one-time piano mechanic turned Master of Applied Science (Critical Enquiry/Social Ecology) fled to the West from the former Soviet bloc, finally finding his home in Australia. Growing up in a family touched by the horrors of the holocaust and communism, Pen Avram has spent his life studying what drives people of different faiths around the world to act the way they do. His insights now inform the mysteries investigated by the intrepid team of Kroupa and Hendrych. And Sara is a real dog, blood an bones.

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WHO KILLED DON

A book by Pen Avram

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

Pen Avram on Smashwords

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Copyright © 2011 Text - Pen Avram

Copyright © 2011 ArtWork Design - Pen Avram

The author and the artwork designer assert the moral rights to

be identified as the author and designer of this work,

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CHAPTER 1: Don’s passing

Police Inspector Bertolli didn’t need to wait for a call from Trivero’s family. The emergency services had informed the police immediately. When a man of Don Trivero’s calibre dies, the police must be informed. Within a few minutes Bertolli was at Trivero’s house. He would only have a short while before the ambulance arrived, so he had to act fast.

Rosa, the maid, was running up and down the stairs as if berserk. Inspector Bertolli had to stand with his arms spread wide in the middle of the stairs to stop her. She looked frightened, repeating, I didn’t do it. Will anyone believe me? My God, what happened?

Calm down, Lady. Where can I find Mrs Trivero?

I don’t know. You can’t. The Master is dead. What will happen to us all?

That comes later. Look, I am from the police – don’t panic, I am not accusing you of anything – Who are you?

I am Rosa. I work here.

Housekeeper?

Yes. Sir, she said, wiping the tears from her face with the sleeve of her blouse.

I must see Mr Trivero, Rosa. Has anyone move him?

Oh, no, Sir. Nobody has been in his room since we found him, dead. The Lady went to her room, and has been there ever since. Hasn’t come out at all.

Who called the ambulance? Bertolli asked calmly.

I couldn’t do it, I thought I would die. She was shaking all over.

Please, take me to Mr Trivero’s room, before the doctor arrives, Bertolli quietly requested.

Rosa led the way upstairs to Don’s bedroom. He’d occupied it by himself. He and his wife Louise had separate bedrooms. Rosa opened the door, but wouldn’t go in. The Inspector immediately went to the deceased. There was no doubt that he was dead. His look at peace, lying on his back with his blanket drawn up over his chest. There was no sign of any struggle.

"Go to the kitchen and wait for me there. And don’t worry,’ he instructed Rosa in a soft voice.

Yes, Sir. She was glad that she could go away.

Bertolli looked around. The first thing he noticed was a perfect copy of Pieter Claesz’s painting ‘Vanitas still life’. The details of the skull were almost frightening in the presence of the dead man. The other art objects were also impressive. There were some small modern statuettes as well as objects of Islamic art. Don Trivero was clearly an astute collector and investor, besides being the boss of the Don’s ‘Family’, an infamous underworld organization.

Bertolli was looking around and at the same time taking photographs of the deceased and the room. He couldn’t wait to collect his official photographer because he was eager to beat the ambulance to the task. He had just finished when the sound of sirens approaching the house pierced the silence and then stopped abruptly.

Bertolli noticed four ampoules of insulin on the low chiffonier. He put one in his pocket. The heavy steps of the paramedics broke the deathly silence that had enveloped the house. Bertolli pointed to the body while holding his police badge casually in his palm. The paramedics were too busy to notice it.

Do not touch anything here. And if he’s dead, leave the body here for our doctor to collect it.

He sure IS dead, confirmed one of the paramedics. We need to talk to the hospital and find out what to do. We can’t just leave him here. I’d prefer to wait till the police arrives.

Wait outside. I am the police, Bertolli repeated, this time thrusting his badge into the paramedic’s face.

When they walked out looking for somewhere to sit down, Bertolli locked the room with the key that was still in the lock, pocketed it, took the two confused men to the lounge room and went to the kitchen. He wanted to have a few words with the maid.

After calling for the forensic doctor, he approached the plump, young woman who had led him to Trivero’s room. She was no more that twenty-five years old, with a small white kerchief tied in her dark-brown hair. She was still wearing a white apron over her sleeveless floral dress that fell to her ankles with a white blouse under it. She was crouching on a chair in the kitchen by the wall, her locked and clenched fingers turning white. She was sobbing.

"That’s enough, young lady. Please tell me who you are. You said your name is Rosa?

Yes Sir, Rosa, I look after the hose, like a maid, that’s what I am, Sir. She appeared frightened.

Have you been working here long, Rosa? Bertolli tried to sound as comforting as possible under the circumstances.

Seven years, Sir.

Rosa, tell me all you know. And don’t try to hide anything, please.

Yes Sir. What do you want to know? She wiped her nose with a paper tissue.

Anything you heard or saw late last evening. You wouldn’t happen to have been near Mr Trivero’s bedroom, would you?

I’d better tell you everything; you, and the Doctor will find out anyway. But I didn’t want to do it, I swear to God. She began crying again, while looking at Bertolli, her eyes pleading for mercy.

You didn’t want to do what? asked Bertolli in an even softer voice. He was waiting for some important news.

I didn’t want to kill him. I didn’t eavesdrop either. I only wanted to make sure that the Master was okay. I heard him speaking loudly and when I came closer I saw that he was moaning, as if in pain. The door wasn’t closed properly, so I peeped in and listened.

You would be very wise to tell me everything. And I mean everything. I am sure you didn’t kill anybody.

What happened in the room

"The Master had been getting worse, Sir. His health had been getting worse by the day. He had been very unwell. I heard the Lady asking him, ‘What’s wrong, darling?’ She seemed really worried.