The Haunted Inspector

By Claudio Ruggeri

Inspector Vincent Germano is an "old school" police officer, born in San Francisco but living in Italy since his early twenties, when an encounter changed the direction of his life. Castelli Romani, a group of towns in the province of Rome, lying south of the city, are the setting for two cases that will test the investigative skills of Germano and his team to the limit: an "offside" referee and a missing girl. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Dec 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781507159965

Claudio Ruggeri

Claudio Ruggeri, 30岁。出生于Grottaferrata (罗马)。现为从业人员，前裁判员。他遍游各地，在美国呆了很久，2007年回到意大利。写作是一直以来他的最大爱好。

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Prologue

Shall we play cops and robbers, Dad? This was what Luca would usually ask his father when he needed cheering up. He loved running around the house; it was the perfect remedy for bad marks.

His father would then remain silent for a few seconds before answering; he would look at his son intensely, enquiringly, trying to figure out the reason behind his suggestion. But once it was clear that his son was just itching for some fun, he could never bring himself to say no.

Ok, ok, but watch it, you won’t catch me out this time!

"Ha ha, you watch it, Dad! Your hair’s already gone grey..."

At this, the father instinctively looked in the dining-room mirror; his eight-year-old son was right.

The chase was on, all of a sudden, just as they liked to play it; they would usually run around the house for a minute or so, the time it would take Luca to end up bursting into his parents’ room, where in the evening he would often find his mother, desperately trying to get his one-year-old twin sisters to sleep.

Shouting "This is a robbery and Hands up at the top of his voice, the scene would always unfold in the same way: the twins would start crying, his mother, Arianna, would threaten him with a couple of slaps and finally his father would appear, to arrest" him and take him to his room.

His father was Police Inspector Vincent Germano, who could not help feeling somewhat uneasy when forced to arrest someone in his own home.

Vincent had been born in San Francisco forty-five years earlier, to Italian parents. At the age of twenty-three, as a graduation present, his family had decided to treat him to a trip to Italy, the country that his mother, father, aunts and uncles had left many years before.

And he had been there ever since. He met Arianna, they fell in love and, not long after, applied to join the police force; some people are born to do a certain kind of job, and he had been born to be a police officer, just like his FBI father.

Other than this vocation, he had not inherited much from his father, but they shared the same intense look and the habit of giving every police operation an English name.

They spoke on the phone now and again, Germano senior giving his son some precious advice, which in some investigations had turned out to be invaluable.

Intuition and motive, intuition and motive, words that the younger Germano still found himself repeating today. On occasion, when his lines of enquiry reached a dead end, by simply reflecting upon his father’s words he would manage to succeed in something that was both simple and extremely difficult.

Sometimes, in order to see something more clearly, you need to take a step back and look at the whole picture; only then can you get down to the detail, not before.

The inspector had to push himself a little each time to enter into this mindset; all too often he would get wrapped up in the cases that he was trying to solve. This was a mistake, of course, but he liked to reassure himself that when you’re on the trail of murderers, rapists and extortionists, you can’t afford to act as if you were giving someone a parking ticket.

That evening in early spring, Inspector Germano was feeling too shattered to take his dog, Black, for his usual evening walk. After taking his son to his room, he decided to see what was on TV, and after a bit of channel surfing, he stayed with the Milan-Roma league match. It was an exciting game, so he lit a cigarette and chose to end his evening watching twenty-two men run after a ball.

With only a few minutes to go before the final whistle, the phone rang. Guessing that it would be for him, that it could not be for anyone else at that time, he let his wife answer.

Vinnie! Vinnie, it’s for you...

Germano turned the TV down and picked up the phone in the lounge.

Hello.

Good evening, Inspector, this is Di Girolamo speaking...

Detective Giulio Di Girolamo was an extremely organised, diligent and meticulous man, his only fault being a lack of intuition and investigative flair, skills that cannot be acquired in the classroom.

Go ahead...

Tomorrow’s Sunday...

Right, we’ll meet at the station at six thirty, let Pennino, Fiorini and Venditti know. I’ll contact Detective Parisi.

Perfect, see you tomorrow, then.

Yes, see you tomorrow.

A special lunch had been arranged for the following day, at his mother-in-law’s restaurant, but he would be arriving a bit behind schedule.

1

Operation EXTRA TIME had been launched a month earlier, after a young football referee had come to the station to report that he had been subjected to brutish and threatening behaviour during his match the day before.

The referee, De Simoni, described in great detail everything he had endured at the hands of the home crowd, both during and after the match between Virtus and Real, both Castelli Romani teams.

The officer taking his statement that Monday was Valentina Fiorini, a woman of around thirty, with four years’ service in the force. Having gained invaluable experience in the Calabrian town of Crotone, she had decided to request a transfer to a station in Castelli Romani, just outside of Rome, and this had been approved fairly quickly.

So, to sum up...signor De Simoni, are you certain that the fans who were threatening you were all Virtus supporters?

Yes, I’m sure. They even tried to come into my changing room at half time; they were holding a dead cat and told me that I’d end up the same way.

But what did they want, exactly?

According to them I should’ve sent off a couple of Real players and awarded at least one penalty.

The world is going mad... uttered Fiorini, who could tell from the referee’s expression the amount of stress he had been under the day before. She sighed and then continued.

Well, please write everything down in your statement and we’ll do whatever we can...could you remind me of the name of the team?

Virtus.

And the league?

Regional Under-14s.

They shook hands and De Simoni left the station as Fiorini stood there for a moment, unsure whether to discuss the incident with Germano as soon as he came back.

The inspector returned in the late afternoon, when it was already dark; it was the end of March and, with the clocks yet to go forward, dusk was falling too early.

Officer Fiorini hesitated for a few moments before stepping into her superior’s office to tell him about the unfortunate events surrounding the referee.

So what do you make of it, Valentina? Germano always addressed everyone by their first names, whenever he could.

These Virtus fans must be real brutes...

Ok, why don’t you give the Football Federation a call to see if there have been any other incidents reported in connection with this Virtus, then come back to me.

Ok, will do, Inspector.

A couple of days later, Fiorini reported back to Germano.

I’ve got some news on Virtus.

Oh, what’s that?

There were two similar incidents last year, with the referees’ cars being damaged. The club was fined and they seemed to have calmed down this year.

Or maybe they’ve become even more threatening and the referees are too afraid to report them...

Exactly...

What day is it today?

Thursday.

"OK, then check where Virtus are playing on Sunday, they’re probably away. Oh, and take a camera from the