Broken Lives

By Cesario Picca

A compelling psychological thriller set in London 
Battered corpses of three young students are found between Tower Bridge, Borough Market and the Shakespeare Globe Theatre, warning a London already struggling with a fear of terrorist attacks. Investigation is entrusted to the promising Italian-British detective of Scotland Yard, Sonny D’Amato, who must stop the serial killer before the list of the dead gets longer. Clues lead to investigating old cases of child abuse that may have triggered a weak, suffering mind. 
Thanks to the precious help of the coroner July Pence, the detective digs in the past in search of the logical thread that will allow him to solve the intricate enigma. He will most likely get the promotion that he feels he deserves, but without being able to rejoice. In fact, his soul will be hostage to the pain emanating from this sad inquiry that will make him lose sight of the difference between the victim and the executioner.
Because, as Alexandr Solzhenitsyn wrote, “the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being”. Set in London, Broken lives, the new psychological thriller by Cesario Picca, sees once again the reporter from Salento Rosario Saru Santacroce looking for news to inform the readers about these crimes which are worrying a city already wracked by terrorist attacks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cesario Picca
• Release date: Jul 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9788834158166

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 - A corpse on Tower Bridge

When they saw him lying between one of the pallets stacked with bitumen rolls and the Spencer company dumpsters, they immediately thought of the umpteenth drunken student who had lost his way home after another night of alcohol and drugs. Annoyed, they tried to wake him up, to send him away and start the day’s work.

The sky above London was leaden, while the very fine, dense fog was taking advantage of any crack, to worm its way into the innermost recesses of the soul, making it frigid and little prone to compassion. The slimy tongue that flowed silently below Tower Bridge seemed more insidious than usual after the heavy rain of the previous days, which was why barge routes had been reduced, as well as trips along the Thames. The lights of the city were still on, but they could do little against the power of nature. Not even the powerful generators were able to guarantee the amount of lighting needed to facilitate the work on reconstructing the road surface covering the bridge that had been underway for weeks. At that hour there were few people around, and even fewer of the tourists that usually flock to one of the symbols of the British capital.

After putting on his orange helmet and green vest, the construction foreman, Sam, approached that half-naked body. Not only was the guy in an area that was off limits for the unauthorized, but he would also risk death if he didn’t get into some clothes better suited to the not exactly mild season. He tried to wake the guy up by nudging him on the rump covered by a pair of jeans, with his big work-boot. He goes the first time, and then again and again, but without getting the desired outcome, which helped to rile him even more than the Monday morning was already doing, not to mention the shitty weather, and a desire to work and then put up with that nearly unbearable dampness. Witnessing the scene from a close distance, his workmates, silently smiled as they knew that if he had heard them sniggering, he would have retaliated, giving them a hard time all day.

At the third hit of the boot, Burk gave John a slight nudge, almost to emphasize his surprise at the deep sleep the young guy seemed to have fallen into. This is certainly not the first they had been forced to come to terms with in the last one month when opening the construction site in the morning. After pulling on his work gloves, to avoid any contact with the stranger and forestall any disease he might be carrying, Sam knelt next to his body and tried to shake him by the shoulders covered with a badly buttoned shirt. He immediately realized that there was something strange, and ordered his men to call 999.

The National Health Service ambulance arrived in a matter of minutes, with the doctors confirming that the young man had been killed several hours ago. On his wrists he had marks of the sharp plastic strings that had probably been used to tie him up, while the deep wounds on his chest must have led to his death. The paramedics immediately alerted the police, whose reflectors were added to those of their vehicle, contributing to give a touch of color to the crime scene. While two officers surrounded the area with the yellow tape bearing the words ‘Police line do not cross’, detective Sonny D’Amato watched the coroner’s work intently, waiting to ask her some questions that he would then note down on the small jotter with the Scotland Yard logo on the cover.

It was his first time in charge of the investigation in a murder case. The head of his investigative unit, which operated in the east of the city, had decided to send him to the site alone. The flu had decimated the office and, being short of men, his boss could not take the liberty of leaving his desk. In any case, he was sure he was not taking the slightest risk, because the young investigator had shown he was up to it, and this case could be the right opportunity to earn the promotion to detective sergeant that he had overtime shown to deserve. Probably D’Amato had fate on his side too, as it happens  that on that very day, his fiercest rival was not on duty either. An individual who made up for his lack of ability with skills as a wheeler-dealer and flatterer that had no equal. It was actually because of those qualities that he had secured excellent protection among the top ranks of the police force. 

Thirty years old, Sonny was a second-generation Italian immigrant. His father Sebastiano had left the Salento in search of fortune and had moved to London when he was just 18 years old. There, he met his mother Rosalia, a Sicilian girl who emigrated with the family. She already has a name in her head to call her firstborn who came on the scene just a year after their wedding. She wanted to call him Santino, after her grandfather who had passed away prematurely. Sonny’s father does not seem to agree as he would prefer a more modern name for their new Babyboy. This inadvertently led to a struggle between the two young lovers. They managed to reach a compromise after exhausting contradictions due to the timely intervention of Sonny’s maternal grandmother who prevented what could have led to a likely divorce which would have left an indelible stain on the family. There were however sexual retaliations in the middle from the unwilling woman as she refused to fulfill her conjugal duties and the Freudian resistance of the man, who was unrivaled in pride. 

The victim had no documents on him, so his identity could only be revealed through a fingerprint check. The light complexion and dark brown hair suggested a young Latin or Hispanic, who could not have been more than twenty-five years of age. When July Pence finished the preliminary operations related to a first superficial cadaveric inspection, she put her working tools back in her bag, took off her latex gloves and stopped to talk to Sonny D’Amato, who she had often met on similar occasions. The coroner, who also had a specialization in forensic psychology, was a few years older than the young detective but between the two there was an enjoyable rivalry anyway, about who had more charm and more admirers among colleagues of either sex.

Chapter 2 - Tortured and barbarously killed

The coroner explained that the victim had not been killed on Tower Bridge because there were no traces of blood; after all, it would have been difficult for his killer to tie his wrists and torture him in such a crowded place. At least twenty stab wounds were spotted on his body, even though only a few, according to the preliminary examination, could be considered fatal. It could not be considered a crime of passion, it had been premeditated and whoever had committed it had demonstrated unparalleled sadism, by inflicting so much suffering on the victim, before granting him the grace to die, putting an end to that pain. The psychopath who had wreaked that havoc had wanted to fully enjoy the unhealthy satisfaction of seeing life slip away from that tormented body. It was not the first disturbing case for Dr. Pence, her job had accustomed her to deal with the worst things the human mind is capable of. Yet the mere thought of retracing the long torture experienced by that young man without a name unsettled her quite a bit.

The case did not promise anything good, because the person responsible for that crime, according to medical-scientific literature, was entitled to be included in the list of serial killers, a category it was better not to deal with. If her ideas were well-founded - and within herself, she hoped she was mistaken - it would not be the only body that she would have on her hands. Sonny D'Amato listened to her with extreme care as he allowed his interlocutors talk. He was convinced that he could find out more that way than by consciously asking questions and merely taking notes. He would add more of them after the autopsy scheduled for the next day, after which the Medical Certificate of the Cause of Death (or MCCD) would be issued. 

After concluding with the coroner, he went over to his colleagues, who, in the meantime, had seized the entire bridge, still under an oppressive blanket of fog. They were busy cataloging any element that could be helpful during the investigation of the case. This may really be the chance of your life, but it won’t be easy to either solve the puzzle or prevent someone from taking it away from you, Sonny thought. He understood perfectly the complexity of the situation he was in, and this time he would not be able to count on the unconditional support of his boss if the powers that be push for the case to be entrusted to a detective who had more friends in high places than him.

Sam and his colleagues were observing the scene from a secluded position. They were leaning against the blue and white parapet of the bridge, a few steps from the fortified structure of the Tower of London, on the other side of the metal fence that separated the construction site from the pedestrian crossing, usually crowded by tourists busy taking selfies. On their faces, there was no longer that faint smile evident just few hrs ago when they had not yet realized the real extent of the event and had laughed at their foreman struggling with the stranger. They were trapped in the situation. Not being able to work, they wanted to go home but they were not allowed to neither abandon the workplace nor walk away before being heard by the investigators.

After exchanging a few words with his colleagues, Sonny went up to the group of seven men in green vests, to separately collect their statements, which added nothing to what was already clear from the situation in all its dramatic evidence. However, he took their personal details, had a look at their documents, and invited them to come to the office before the end of that same day to put their statements on record. Together with another detective, he went on patrol on the streets around the bridge, in search of possible electronic eyes. He covered a part of St. Katharine's Way, Queen Elizabeth Street, and Tooley Street, and arranged for the collection of CCTV footage from nearby Tower Hill Underground station; he then extended the range of action up to the Monument Tube station and London Bridge station. It was obvious that those who had killed the young man had not taken the tube, but could have passed nearby with the vehicle used to transport the body. He knew very well that those cameras did not have the power to radiograph vehicles, but they could record plates, shapes or clues that might be useful in case of comparisons. Sonny phoned his boss to let him know what had happened and to get his consent to continue with the plan he had in mind.

Chapter 3 - The dead guy is an Italian student

After series of checks, the powerful brain that housed the database gave its response: the victim was Umberto Camillo Petrelli Pinardi, a twenty-two-year-old from Rome. He was in London to study English in a college in Camden Town, very popular among Italian students who went to the British capital to improve their knowledge of the language of Her Majesty. The school was located on Camden High Street, not far from the subway station, on the main street of the quaint London neighborhood with endless kiosks where you can buy all sorts of things. Through the consulate, they informed the parents of the boy, and they were advised to come into the British capital the following day. The young man’s family was of Piedmontese origin, belonging to the ancient bourgeoisie of Savoy. For this reason, the son was given the name of the king and Count Benso di Cavour who created the Unification of Italy in order to plunder the huge economic resources of the Kingdom of the two Sicilies to replenish the empty coffers of the Sabaudi.

The Petrelli Pinardi family had lived for many years in Rome, where they moved to when the aristocratic patriarch, an army general, had been elected to parliament. The victim’s father had never needed to work and had never tried to do so. As a result, he often clashed with the ironclad convictions of the head of the family, who had ordered him to find an occupation because it was dishonorable for the son of a great fighter to live on income without making his own contribution to his country. He was therefore appointed CEO of several public companies until he was called to hold the same role in a well-known press agency where he owned a substantial number of shares.

Thanks to his background and the clever usage of the position he occupied at that time, he had built a dense network of contacts that allowed him access into the palaces of power. He was, among others, a close friend of the Foreign Minister and, for this reason, he found a service car waiting for him at Heathrow, which took him directly to Grosvenor Square. The classic-style residence of the Italian diplomatic representative overlooked the gardens, right in front of the US embassy, situated on the other side of the large square. The attention of bystanders are always and undoubtedly drawn to the enormous size of the tricolor flag hoisted above the entrance, as it had been assigned with the task of counterbalancing the modern vastness of the American embassy. With its immense tons of glass and iron, the latter occupied an entire block, and with its high fence and security system, it gave the impression of being a branch of Fort Knox instead of the headquarters of the diplomatic offices.

It was the ambassador in person who received the Petrelli Pinardi couple, falling over himself to explain to the guests his diligence in making contact with the British authorities. He promised them that he would follow the case personally and urge the investigators to throw light on a criminal episode which he said had shocked him. Such a task should have been the responsibility of the consul, who usually has to intervene in such cases, but the tenant of Grosvenor Square had no intention of giving others the opportunity to make a good impression with friends of friends. The press agency of Petrelli Pinardi intended to pressure them as well and had turned its powerful spotlight on the matter, being ready to point a finger at the British investigators if there was a single hint that they were not making the necessary effort to give a name and surname to the barbaric murderer. Precisely for this reason, on the same plane as the CEO, there had been two top correspondents with the task of following up the investigations.

After the interview, the ambassador arranged for the two guests to be taken to their hotel in nearby Oxford Street, a short walk from Hyde Park, pointing out that they could contact him for anything they might need. In addition, after lunch, he would go with them to the morgue for the sad ritual of recognition. There they found Sonny D’Amato, the detective