Murder in the Tremiti Isles

By Cesario Picca

A femicide thriller set in South Italy
A rich and fascinating tourist from Bologna is brutally murdered while she enjoys her holidays in Tremiti Isles. It is up to the investigators of the Operative Department of Foggia to find out who is the author of this heinous femicide.
The Salento reporter Rosario Saru Santacroce decides to switch off for a week enjoying the fantastic atmosphere of the Tremiti Islands.
But that fiery July reserves him a surprise. Because a real reporter is destined (almost) never to unplug and that is probably why he gets entangled in the murder. For this reason Saru will undress tourist clothes to wear those of the reporter hunting for news. Saru is enjoying the last night at the Tremiti Isles when the murder is committed and he is the first to rush to the scene of the crime on the island of San Nicola.
The painstaking work of the carabinieri allows to reveal the author of the crime and the reason: the charming and enigmatic tourist from Bologna was killed by the man who had sworn to love her. And another woman, the prosecutor who coordinates the investigation, finds the killer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cesario Picca
• Release date: Sep 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310820038

Cesario Picca

Cesario Picca (1972), salentino di origine, vive a Bologna. Per 25 anni ha lavorato come giornalista di cronaca nera e giudiziaria, ora si occupa dei suoi gialli e del protagonista Rosario Saru Santacroce ed è relatore e moderatore in numerosi dibattiti e convegni. Ha pubblicato (2005) il saggio giuridico Senza bavaglio – L’evoluzione del concetto di libertà di stampa.Il suo amore per i gialli è sbocciato con Tremiti di paura dove il cronista salentino Rosario (Saru) Santacroce segue le indagini per scoprire l'autore di un cruento femminicidio. Questo è il primo giallo della serie dei gialli del cronista salentino Saru Santacroce. Al momento vi fanno parte Gioco mortale - delitto nel mondo della trasgressione, Il dio danzante - delitto nel Salento, Vite spezzate ambientato a Londra e dedicato alle vittime di abusi, L'intrigo - guanti puri e senza macchia, Il filo rosso - delitto sui colli.C’è molto di Cesario Picca in Saru Santacroce. Stessa età, stesse origini, stesso modo di vivere vita e lavoro. Laureato in Economia all’Università di Lecce, Cesario Picca si è trasferito a Bologna per lavoro. Si è occupato per molti anni di cronaca nera e giudiziaria lavorando per il quotidiano L’Informazione-Il Domani e collaborando con l’agenzia Adn Kronos.Nel 2002 è stato insignito del premio 'Cronista dell’anno Piero Passetti' grazie a un’inchiesta giornalistica.Cesario Picca was born and bred in Salento, in South Italy. For 25 years he worked as a crime and judicial reporter so it was very simple start writing thrillers. In his books, like Broken Lives and Murder in the Tremiti Isles, there are many real stories crossed with fantasy.He has already published (2005) the juridical essay Senza bavaglio – l’evoluzione del concetto di libertà di stampa (Ungagged - the developing concept of freedom of the press).His love for thrillers blossomed with Murder in the Tremiti Isles where the main character, the reporter from Salento, Rosario Saru Santacroce, is involved in a femicide. But you can find Saru Santacroce in thrillers Gioco mortale - delitto nel mondo della trasgressione, Il dio danzante - delitto nel Salento, Broken Lives, a psychological thriller set in London, dedicated to victims of abuse and inspired by Criminal Minds, Il filo rosso - delitto sui colli, the esoteric L'intrigo - guanti puri e senza macchia.The main character of his thrillers is a rough and rational man, talkative, charismatic, ready to savor every moment of life as if it was the last. Nicknamed Saru (the nickname that is given in Salento to those named like him), the reporter Rosario Santacroce covers the city's crime beat. As often happens, occasionally work also follows him on holidays because a real reporter is destined (almost) never to unplug. And that is probably why he gets entangled in murders.Maybe, between Saru Santacroce and Cesario Picca there are many points in common; they love life and they think life is a gift. They love footing and untill now they have run lots of marathons. A good way, in their opinion, to relax and feel good.In 2002 Cesario Picca was awarded the Piero Passetti prize for 'Reporter of the year'. He is a speaker or moderator at numerous conferences and participates in many radio and television broadcasts.

Book preview

Chapter 1 – Why you? 

On the little terrace overlooking the sea of the Tremiti Islands, together with the few clients, there was a Persian cat that seemed very keen on the food served by Michelina who was probably very generous with him, but like a great panderer never missed a chance to rub himself on people’s legs to get something extra. As a starter Rosario asked some peppered mussels, which he loved, while his partner ordered a Palamito, a very tasty fish used as a starter and served with vinaigrette, capers and parsley. It was ten o’clock when they sat down and they had an hour to have dinner before the last ferry of the evening left to bring them back.

«Good god, it’s already late. If we keep going like this we’ll have to consider the idea of swimming back to the island if we want to go home» she said looking at the Cartier watch she wore on her wrist and never took off, even at night. Pretty and enterprising, she was sure of herself and she knew she had the perfect weapons to convince some fisherman to bring them back. They started the game of seduction that they both enjoyed making them feel complicit and on the same wavelength. Lightly touching him with her foot under cover of the tablecloth, she reminded him that anyone would face even the roughest sea to make her happy while he started to feel uncomfortable in his immaculate linen suit from which his dark skin showed up his well-muscled body thanks to years of weight-lifting and jogging. With a wink and a joke they came to a kind of deal that they would take that decision only as a last resort, maybe if they had eaten so much that they were incapable of swimming to the other side. 

The mussels and the Palamito, with the gentle sound of the sea in the background, were a perfect opening and everything made them think that the sea-food risotto that they had both ordered was going to be the best completion of their dinner. As usual Saru urged the young waitress to insist with the chef for big servings and she smiled letting him know that she had understood.

«Actually we have a female chef and she’s very strict, but I’ll tell her anyway» she said heading towards the kitchen after writing down their order. Saru liked her self-confidence which contrasted with her seemingly colorless personality and he was looking forward to tasting a good rice dish, one of his favorites.

Unfortunately, with great regret, he changed his mind when he saw the tiny serving, not even nicely presented, which instead of the colorful dish he had been expecting with the flavorsome red sauce from Puglia, the full-blooded shrimps, the cherry clams and the shimmer of green parsley, was a dead pink which destroyed his appetite after the first mouthful. Because of his disappointment he had the sad feeling that the chef, as if to taunt him, had served him up a frozen ready-made risotto. An insult when you are eating almost on the sea where at any moment a fish could jump straight onto your plate from the water and even more for someone like him always ready to taste his beloved Pugliese food. Unwillingly he decided to eat that abomination anyway going back in his mind to the lunch of the day before which had been a celebration for his demanding palate. Mauro had offered him a big juicy dish of spaghetti with a delicious sauce made with lobster, scampi, red snapper and monkfish, all washed down with an excellent local wine.

As he was raising his fork with effort, wondering whether he should make a sarcastic comment to the waitress about the dish or go directly to the kitchen for a showdown with the chef, a terrible scream sent a shudder down his spine, making him almost choke on his mouthful. To calm the coughing he quickly drank a glass of mineral water, then glanced at his companion mopping the tears to focus on her questioning look. After a few seconds he looked around meeting the puzzled eyes of the other clients on the terrace then suddenly stood up.

«Where are you going?» asked Elisa, worried. 

«I’ll go and see what happened» answered Saru. 

«But where?». 

«I don’t know, I think it’s down that side, that’s what it sounded like» he said pointing with his right hand to a place that was more hypothetical than real. 

«What do you care about it? We aren’t in Bologna. We’re on vacation, you don’t have to work» she tried to say to him, but it was enough to look into his eyes to see the change of mood as if something from the depths of his soul had taken possession of him and, even if he was on vacation, had forced him to put himself in the reporter’s shoes looking for a story for the news. 

Saru quickly grabbed some money from his pocket and leaving it on the table pausing to ask her to pay since he didn’t want to eat any more of the tasteless risotto. He left only after drinking a glass of water not because he was thirsty, but to take the nauseating taste of the risotto out of his mouth and headed towards the stairs leading to the fortress. He felt like he had to go somewhere, but he didn’t know where and he started running following his instinct. He crossed the street with the palms and reached Santa Maria Church flanked by the walls on the right and ending with the high square tower. There was no one around and passing by he quickly crossed himself then, running across the courtyard on the right of the Romanic church, he reached the archeological area now deep in darkness. 

He already knew the way because he had walked along it earlier, but in the darkness everything seemed different and while his instinct started to give way to his reason, he started thinking he might have acted too quickly in an unknown situation without asking for help or calling the police. Now he had got himself into that dead-end street, with no torch, he started feeling the fear and he didn’t know what to do anymore. Inside himself, the belief that he’d made an almighty mistake started to grow, confirmed by the fact that none of the guests had followed him and not even some curious local came to have a look at least to give him a bit of courage. He was out of breath and, as he was used to running three times per week, he thought he was going to have a panic attack, something that had never happened before.

Following his instinct, he started to look around, above all behind him. In the archeologic area there was dead silence and you couldn’t even hear a mosquito humming. He tried to take some random steps forward and he regretted it when suddenly a seagull, perhaps scared by something, took off flying right in front of his face. He couldn’t control himself and he let out a scream that made his throat sore for a couple of days. At the same time he heard the sound of something falling in the water, but he didn’t think much about it, it was probably a stone falling from the rock. When he started to feel better again he kept going.

He could hear the sound of the sea, the only sound around him, and he thought he was not far from the Tower of the Knights of San Nicola below which there was the big opening in the rock which let the sea in and separated the castle from the San Nicola cliff almost isolating it so that side was not vulnerable to an enemy attack. His heart started beating like crazy and he kept looking around and behind him without knowing what he could defend himself with. He thought it was quite likely that some mugger might attack him so he kneeled and he picked up a stone off the ground and at that exact moment he heard groans getting louder and louder. He headed towards the vague noises, admittedly frightened of the unknown, but at the same time was empowered by a strength which pushed him to keep going to understand what had happened without even thinking of stopping or calling for help on his mobile. Waiting for someone would have meant wasting time and maybe those moments could be precious for someone in trouble. He was not running anymore but walking quickly, trying to focus his eyes and so, in the darkness, he made out something white moving.

For a few moments his blood froze and he swung around fearing for his safety. He was scared stiff, but the curiosity to find out what was happening was stronger than his fear. He continued for a couple of meters and, turning back to look behind him, he stumbled and tripped over someone in white pants lying on the floor. He had fallen onto a woman, the only thing he was sure about at that moment given the softness of her skin and her breasts. He leaned on the ground to take his weight off the body and as he was getting up he felt his hands wet and sticky and rubbing them on his body to dry them he realized that some parts of his clothes were wet too. Then he noticed the sugary and nauseating smell of fresh blood and this awareness hit him like a violent punch in the stomach. He just had the time to turn his head and vomit. At that moment he was certain that he was in the center of a tragic event even if he could not understand what had happened to the woman and the darkness didn’t help him. 

«Say something, what happened to you? Can you talk?» he peered at the body of the woman who was uttering feeble moans, perhaps more to gain courage himself than to really help her. He was hoping that at any moment someone would arrive to help him and that thought seemed to calm his heart, hammering like a compressor, giving him a moment of lucidity to think about what to do next. 

A burst of heat overcame him suddenly and he started to sweat, but despite being so tense he took his cellphone from his pocket and started jabbing wildly at the keys which kept the screen on and shed some light on the scene. It was enough for him to see the woman, lying on her right side, slightly doubled up, her shoulders towards him, and weakly begging for help before falling silent. Saru put two fingers of his right hand on her neck, he couldn’t feel a heart-beat and he saw there was nothing left to do. The smell of blood was really strong, it filled his nostrils and was suffocating his mind, he rolled the woman over and thanks to the light he could just make out that the wound was in her stomach and from the size of the bloodstain he understood that it was wide or very deep. Suddenly the anxiety made way for rationality and he convinced himself that the best thing was to leave everything like it was, as now he knew that she was dead and it was essential not to disturb the crime scene even though he had stumbled into it by pure chance. He felt her blood everywhere, even on his face and hair and he didn’t understand how he could have got so dirty. 

He kept looking around desperately without seeing anyone and it seemed such an inexplicable situation as at the restaurant there were people and that scream could also have been heard in other parts of the island. As the minutes passed and his eyes started to get used to the darkness and his nose to the odor of blood, he was able to perceive a fragrance he seemed to have smelled before in other circumstances. A sudden and inexplicable presentiment made him bend over the dead woman to smell her perfume and to try to get a better look at her face in the light of his cellphone.

«Noooo…Lucia!» he groaned with his heart beating again more violently than before while he started to feel a kind of horror taking possession of him, traversing in him like a shiver full of unanswered questions. He didn’t think about anything else for a few moments knowing that she would never hear his words nor perhaps sense the feelings that were churning up his soul.

«Why you, Lucia?». 

Chapter 2 – Holiday finished

The slow but relentless march of time marked the last hours of his vacation, amidst the colors and perfumes of the Tremiti Isles. Just seven days’ break from work after quite a demanding period was not much, but Rosario Santacroce had enjoyed them anyway as he always loved to do. He lived every moment life gave him as if it was his last and as he always liked to see the glass half full he didn’t feel any regret about the vacation coming to an end. He was satisfied with how long his break had been. He had also been lucky with his choice of company, with the same tastes as himself, giving an additional sense of satisfaction to that momentary escape from daily life. 

Lying in the sun, with a good book by his side, he spent his days easing down on the rocks like a lizard, crunching from time to time on some local fruit or tarallini. The calories were always lying in wait favored by a more relaxed lifestyle than usual, a potential threat that he tried to ward off with regular sport in contrast with all the hours he was able to spend lying on a rock without showing any sign of muscle soreness. The time to go back to his beloved job seemed to be rushing towards him at the speed of a gazelle being chased by a lion, but that didn’t bother him much happy as he was to have discovered a new place and curious about the idea of going back to his office so tanned that he would make his colleagues and friends green with envy as usual. His skin, very smooth and already dark, had reached a color that was almost black and as silky as though the sun had caressed him in admiration instead of burning him. 

From time to time he too had to plunge into the crystal-clear water of the sea of Puglia, a pleasant way to survive the searing heat. The cool sensation on his skin took Saru’s mind back to his childhood spent in Salento, a time when he wasn’t so keen on the heat and couldn’t understand the tourists that used to spend the days chilling at the beach. When he thought about it he had to smile because at that time he would have considered himself crazy able as he was now to stay out in the burning sun without doing a thing. His memories linked to the sea were made of dives from the cliff, puckered skin from swimming for so long, the screams of joy of all the other boys who like him were always in the water. That night Saru and his girlfriend planned to go to the white island of San Nicola, taking the ferry that left from the dock of San Domino.

The idea was to visit the fortress and then eat at the Artista, the restaurant managed by Michelina who had been advised the previous day by Mauro, the owner of the boat on which they had spent the whole day exploring the island, swimming and enjoying the delicious fish that Mauro had caught the night before. At first, looking at the brochure, it had looked like one of those mediocre organized tours that are usually offered to tourists to admire the coast of any island. On the sheet of A4 paper an unforgettable day was advertised and the owner of the bar facing the little square dedicated to Sandro Pertini, the president who exulted at the World Cup Finals in Spain, went all out to assure them of the truth of what was advertised. 

They boarded feeling rather doubtful because of some similar trips that had disappointed them in the past, but this time they had to admit that the €50 per person was a bargain considering the quality of the treatment received. The vacation had been quite spartan and to conclude it with a flourish they decided to treat themselves to a romantic dinner in one of the best restaurants of the place. But to be able to get there in time they had to come back early from the beach, a bit reluctantly, as that was their last day at the sea. A quick shower and then down to the port to reach the island before sunset. They reached the jetty on foot, walking down a narrow curving street, not more than a kilometer long, with the last part sloping down toward the sea, filling their eyes and touching their heart with the spectacle offered by nature.

«Wonderful» uttered the girl admiring the scene before her, a view she had never seen as she used to return at that time from the beach and she had always taken a different street to get back to her hotel. For a few minutes they stood staring at the island of San Nicola, lit up by the sun, a tongue of white earth surrounded by the crystal clear azure sea and covered in greenery like a bouquet created by an expert florist asked to decorate a room for an unforgettable gala event. 

«If I didn’t have you, I would have had to come here more often to see something so beautiful» Saru murmured in her ear with the certainty of someone who is good at playing with words to get what he wants. And in fact he got the kiss he was after but didn’t want to ask for in homage to the seduction game that made them such well-matched accomplices. That exchange of emotions had aroused them to the point that they almost forgot about the ferry, the excursion and the dinner they had planned. Only the deafening noise of a pickup truck and the trail of unbreathable black smoke it left in its wake brought them back to reality, making them realise that that was not the best place to continue with their embrace.

«I think we’d better follow our plan otherwise we’ll never reach the other island if we keep this up» said Saru to the girl thanks to the bit of blood that was still able to reach his head and not follow the main surge flowing downwards. When they got to the port, they boarded a little boat that brought them to their destination in a couple of minutes along with the other tourists who had probably had the same idea. They had booked a table on the terrace to admire the sea. 

That evening there were not many people and the sound of the waves lapping at the water’s edge reached them softly. 

«These islands are very nice, worth visiting. The only thing that puzzles me a bit is the people who I find rather cold, not very cheerful, hard to talk to, not very Salentine. Salento’s actually just another story thanks to the people so warm and welcoming, always ready to help you and make you feel at home» he observed.

«I’d say that’s a good reason to take me there. You talk about it so often and in such glowing terms you’re making me curious. Actually everyone speaks well of it, but I’ve never been there and I’d like to discover it and having met you is one more reason to go there» she said.

«I think I’ll certainly be there by the end of August. It’s months since I went and I’d like to see my parents who are always asking me to come. I think if they met you they’d probably be happy».

«Are you officially inviting me to come to your parents’ place? Aren’t you scared of risking your reputation as a confirmed bachelor? Watch out, I’m starting to like you and if you keep bringing me on holiday in enchanting places like this I might even fall in love» she said with an attitude that was half serious and half joking, actually hiding her real thoughts.

«Do I look scared to you?» he answered readily without giving anything away and leaving the doors open to any possible solution. He liked the girl a lot and he wasn’t against the idea of building a long lasting relationship. It was a long time since he had experienced that strong feeling that can make your heart leap and give you butterflies in the stomach when your thoughts turn to that person who at that moment has the foremost place in everything you do.

«I still can’t work out when you’re joking and when you’re serious. Are you like that even when you’re working?» she asked. During that vacation she had admitted to herself that she wanted to get to know this person who had appeared in her messed-up life like a tornado with his strangeness, his desire for happiness, his way of dealing with problems and situations that could be very difficult. That man, who sometimes was a bit too anti-conformist and thought outside the box, was capable of surprising and for this reason he often came out winning. Many times she stopped to think how he could survive in a world so full of sharks with his frankness and his childish honesty.

«Normally I try to downplay situations because I don’t like grumpy people and the ones that seem to carry the whole weight of the world on their shoulders. Life, which I think should always be lived, often presents unpleasant situations and if we also add some extra stuff we make it even more complicated. That’s why I always try to laugh and smile at the persons I meet. I think a smile makes everything easier and it doesn’t cost anything except in the morning when you went to bed just a couple of hours before the alarm rang and you don’t even want to look at yourself in the mirror».

«Are you ever serious? I mean, when you go on a crime scene what do you do? You laugh?».

«Oh my God. In those cases there’s not so much to laugh about, but at the same time if you’re serious you can’t solve the situation either. You don’t start screaming and you don’t make a drama out of it, as a sign of respect for what happened, but if you can have a chat with your colleagues and with the investigators and maybe laugh a bit you sure do help to make the situation better and make the day a bit more positive. Can you imagine if all day we were so morose as if it were our funeral? It would be too difficult».

«How do you get on with your colleagues? What kind of relationship do you have with them? Are you against one another?».

«Sometimes we meet after work, but it depends on the personal relationship that develops in the sense that having the same job, in my field, doesn’t help because daily stress just ruins relationships and makes them complicated. Anyway there are not many other journalists from my region, but with a lot of carabinieri and policemen I like to organize a dinner or a night out for a drink. We talk, they help me understand the situations better and anyway when we’re eating everything gets less difficult, especially for them because they have so much pressure about not talking to the press. Sure, we have a lot of fun because you have to have a laugh and feel good otherwise why would we go out?».

Elisa was very curious to get to know Saru, but that evening he didn’t really want to talk about himself and he tried to change the subject switching his attention to a small fishing boat that was just passing out towards the open sea, another night at work for the men on board and who knows how long they had been doing the job that forced them to do at night what other people normally did during the