The collector of sins: Inspector Risso

By Silver lady

On the beautiful beaches of Liguria West begin to appear corpses of women horribly massacred. The type of victims is very varied, which leads Chief Inspector Risso,  inspector Angelucci and, of course, the reader to follow paths that are bound to prove inconclusive. Up to the turning point, which will allow you to understand the serial killer’s twisted mind and delusional motives. A compelling reading for thriller enthusiasts, which will lead you into the meandering of a madness that is sometimes almost lucid, but which has its roots in the most ancestral deviant instincts.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Silver Lady
• Release date: Feb 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9788835374459

Book preview

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INTRODUCTION

This novel is intended to be a thriller, who has read so far the investigations of Chief Inspector Risso has often appreciated the softness of the themes. Here you will find some more raw details, but I guarantee you that my gentle soul has not been able to exceed.

To prevent those who might find the characters little outlined remember that by reading the whole series you would have a better knowledge of the protagonists. They are to discover little by little like most of my fellow countrymen.

However, for information to newbies, I remember that: the setting is always the same, my dear Liguria.

Alessandro Risso was recently appointed chief inspector, precisely after solving the case of the Woman in the River. He’s not beautiful, but endowed with charm. Elegant and sporty, he loves his bike madly. He has a subtle ironic streak and is often subject to mood swings.

Inspector Sara Angelucci is a pretty romana de Roma with reddish hair. Solar, sensitive, impulsive, but very tough: if necessary she knows what to do. She has just started a sentimental affair with the aforementioned chief inspector, for now satisfactory, despite some sporadic squabbles.

Expert of digital forensic Paolino Parodi is an excellent computer scientist, rather nerdy in his titanium goggles, his messy mane and his rabbit-like incisors. Very nice, he's the trustworthy buddy everyone would like to have.

Then there are secondary characters like the indispensable constable De Luca, diligent and bungling; the granitic elite agent  De Rosa to resort to when the muscles are needed; the detective sergeant Pittaluga, to tell the truth, a very marginal figure; the deputy commissioner  Boni whose heavy weight contrasts with the extreme goodness of mind and Dr. Zanchi, the pathologist with the elephant physique: precise, competent, punctual, but very polemical and sarcastic.

In this new adventure you will meet a new character: the criminologist Lara Delbuono, I leave it to you to discover her.

But now let's stop talking nonsense and start the investigation.

The price of sin [...] sooner or later you always pay.

Arthur Conan Doyle

The common opinion rightly believes that sin consists in being discovered, but conscience is the traitor within the fortress.

William Somerset Maugham

THE COLLECTOR OF COSCIENCES

CHAPTER I

After all, the evening was over.

  She had scraped and polished about fifty pots and pans and a few hundred dishes. When even the last steel counter was polished to a mirror finish and the floor cleaned and degreased, Mary was allowed to cross the threshold of the Sea and Mountains.

She had rolled up a hood and bonnet at the bottom of a duffel bag and with a few quick, practical touches she had put on makeup and changed, transforming from a slovenly kitchen maid into the queen of the night.

Latin American Wednesdays could be a diversion. The important thing was to get away from the thoughts for a few hours.

She got a conviction for drug dealing, with compulsory signature, because of her ex. She was out of the game, but she was still paying the price.

Luckily, she found a lenient judge, and social services even got her a job.

It was a typical late summer night: fresh air and a farewell atmosphere, with half-empty bars and more than available parking spaces.

Mary clutched the leather-like biker’s jacket around her neck, advancing on the wedge heels, careful not to trip over the fiery red maxi skirt. The long raven hair swayed in the wind.

She calmly walked up the stairs of the disco, showed her pass to security and jumped almost immediately onto the dance floor. A couple of dances with Pablo, then she moved to the bar for a drink.

In the crowd she recognized a familiar face, which she had not been able to place. She hadn't given it much thought and headed back to the dance floor.

After a couple of hours at a fast pace she had decided to leave the disco before closing time. She didn't want to risk being approached by the usual ball-breaker on duty, she just wanted to get to her mini apartment and sleep for about ten hours straight.

The route from the disco to her old brick-coloured panda was little, but a thrill ran through her as she crossed the dark and lonely Aurelia Street. It was not the first time she came home alone, certainly in the middle of summer there was much more movement.

She heard heavy footsteps rumbling behind her, rushed her pace without looking back.

  She looked for the keys in the glittered shoulder strap with nervous gestures, sweaty hands. When she reached the car they slipped on the ground, she picked them up in agitation: she wanted to open the damn lock quickly and flee into the passenger compartment.

She turned on the engine and breathed a sigh of relief: there was no one around.

In about ten minutes she arrived at her rented studio apartment outside the city centre. Among the pines and oleanders she recognized the lighted window on the ground floor. She couldn't remember leaving the light on. She thought she needed more rest: she was becoming more and more distracted. Feeling safe, she lingered on checking messages on her smartphone. She responded to some and refused the invitation of others to extend the night.

She entered the house and her breath stopped in her throat: a cyclone had raged on her few possessions.

Thieves? Search? She didn't have the chance to ask herself any more questions, because shortly afterwards an iron hand closed her mouth with something with a sweetish taste.

While she was struggling and struggling, she was able to focus on her attacker. Her eyes filled with terror and surprise asked for mercy. Then darkness.

The ringing of the phone during the REM sleep was like a cold shower, a punch in the chest, which he had never got used to. He hoisted himself up with difficulty, propping up his elbows, and pulled the device close to his ear, an open eye and a closed eye.

«Doctor, doctor! I'm De Luca: a havoc, a horrible thing! You must come at once.»

«I understand De Luca, calm down. What happened?»

«A woman... dead, drowned... This morning the fishermen found her on the rocks at the Villa Araba.»

  Chief Inspector Alessandro Risso got dressed in a hurry. Sara was due home from the night shift soon, no doubt already aware of what was happened. He left a little coffee in the moka for her, grabbed his helmet and jacket and closed the door behind him with regret.

  A run to the morgue early in the morning was never a pleasant thing.    The victim's body had been transported immediately so that the cause of death could be studied quickly, before the accelerated decomposition by contact with air began.

  Dr. Zanchi, with his bulky bulk, looked like a big green elephant, squirted up as he was, in his gown and sterile mask.