throat. “Dad, take a sip of your wine, please, you’re scaring me!” When he was finally able to speak, he said. “We have a wacko living in West Vancouver! I cannot believe it! This is the quietest and safest part of the lower mainland.”
“It was!
Inspector Mesotti admitted that police were following more than one hypothesis, a possible single serial killer or a complex network. The identi- fied victims were not part of any religious society. The North Shore forest was checked constantly by the park rangers and police, while some trails were closed and others were opened, waiting for the skiing season to start. Kevin’s face was shown daily on the news, and he had no fear to speak. “At the moment we are still questioning Morris. Some details are not completely clarified. An investigative team has been created in our department, and as I told you in the previous interview, both North
Vancouver police and Vancouver police are collaborating with us.” Claudio relented while eating…his chewing cheeks were muffling the sound of Kevin’s voice. He desired to hear every single word the detective was saying.
PART II
Mesotti sympathized: “So far we do not think that an intervention of the Provincial Integrated Homicide Team would be necessary, it is too early to assume that. We have three diverse police departments working on it. We need time to investigate and use in a full scale our resources. In any case, the Provincial Homicide detectives are in a standby mode.”
A few more questions concluded the police conference. “That is all for today, thank you for your cooperation,” said Kevin, in a dismissive voice. Claudio’s eyes were squeezed with curiosity and excitement. Back in Italy he tried to join the military at first, deciding later to challenge the police enforcement, a desire that his father despised. Claudio turned to his father while cleaning his plate with a piece of bread, performing an Italian scarpetta.
“What were you saying about Kevin Mesotti, dad, an article about what? Please tell me, I want to know.”
Giacomo motioned toward the table, holding a tray of fresh fruits. He started peeling and cutting a peach. “I was saying, before being interrupted, that I read an interesting article about your detective. He was in a popular magazine this week. You need to read more instead of listening to the radio and watching TV, it is good to improve your English.”
Claudio was frustrated: “Come on, for God’s sake, you are slow! Why every time you have to go around this matter!” Giacomo put the peach cubes in his glass, adding more red wine and letting the fruit rest for a few minutes. “Kevin is a veteran, my son, and he is close to retirement. His story is not a happy one, even if the man looks confident and self-assured. He lost his twenty-year-old son in a tragic accident, and his wife after that tribulation concealed her mind in anguish, committing suicide. I know it is hard to believe, but this is the truth.”
Claudio sighed in disbelief, “Are you for real? I didn’t know that. When did this tragedy occur?”
Giacomo was meticulously savoring his peach, while speaking to the bewildered youth: “It was not long ago…a few years if I am not wrong. Mesotti was called with his team to chase a car after an armed robbery in downtown Vancouver; at that time, he was working in the city. The criminals escaped from the Lions Gate Bridge, trying to take the upper-level highway to Whistler. West Vancouver law enforcement intervened to block the car. The vehicle jackknifed and violently hit a car proceeding in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for a strange destiny, Mesotti’s son was in that car, driven by a friend. The driver survived, while his son died after being transported to the hospital.”
Claudio lost his appetite, moving away the tray of fruits from his view. Kevin’s boy was going to be a cop…preparing himself for the police academy. It was too sad to hear.
“Who told him about the accident?” Questioned a perturbed Claudio. “No one, he found out! He had permission to chase the vehicle after the bridge, making the criminals drive in a spasmodic way. West Vancouver police did the rest, and when he rescued the other vehicle, he opened the door and saw his son in agony!”
For Claudio that was a torrent of emotions and thoughts. It was utterly obvious in his mind that he loved uniforms. Even the military ones were going to suit him. Slowly his brain killed the engine of his numerous speculations, deposing the boy at rest for the long endless night.
CHAPTER VI
Fear
PART I
Saturday game was at hand, and Claudio’s club won with a large vic- tory. He scored his first goal, gaining an important role as midfielder.
The night was spent in a downtown Vancouver live music club, close to Georgia Street. They danced…when a taxi drove them back home. Claudio said goodbye to the fellows, while some alcohol was still going around his body. He turned his head to the north, looking for the big ladle constellation and Cassiopeia starry dots. He was matching their directions, united toward the North Star (the brightest star in the Ursa Minor constellation, closest to the Earth north celestial pole).
The sky was dark and clear, and all the lights were sparkling bright.
A full vivid moon was shining in a fresh October while an obscure wind was blowing on his face…leaves on the trees remained calm.
A yell came from a distance…a wild animal was hiding in the woods. Claudio questioned his cousin, while his head was spinning around. “Did you hear that shriek? It was reverberating down the hills, I am sure of that.” Michael replied, distraught, “Not again please, with this story of yours. As soon as people hear something strange, they call for a killer.”
Claudio spun around with a serious look, as if a searing bolt had pierced his Achilles tendon. “I am alright, and I am sober. I clearly heard that scream. It was not an animal! What do you think it is?”
Michael moved away from Claudio, jumping in the car while teasing him. “I think you are right, I bet it was Isabel! Go and save her from the ghosts!”
A little piece of wood flew toward Michael, while Claudio was looking for something bigger to throw at him. The vehicle disappeared and Claudio felt a fearful sensation, a constant threat around him. He froze and could not move…something was grabbing his soul.
He entered the living room motioning toward his bedroom, falling asleep into a reverie of a young, gorgeous girl walking barefoot, displaying two long hair braids.
She was wearing a native dress floating like a sailing galleon, advancing in slow motion with her eyes closed. The woman turned, watching Claudio’s face: he stared at her in wonder.
Claudio’s nightmares did not cease in Vancouver, becoming more frequent and real in time. His father thought that leaving Italy for good would have helped him healing his personal profound wounds, forgetting the troubled times they endured back home. Regrettably, Giacomo omitted one crucial thing: “Sorrow always rests within us, until we die.”
The young fellow would have never forgotten his mother’s death, as a continuous photogram immortalized in the heart of his soul.
Rooms, trees, scents, churches, colors, and seasons connected Claudio with the remembrance of his dear mother.
From March to September, Claudio recollected every single day he spent with her. Six months of hope and tribulations.
Lidia ended her life at her brother’s house, upon the northeast Roman hills, where the olive trees grow. Loris was fond of Claudio, and every week they talked on the phone for hours.
He was part of a restricted group aficionado of Dante’s Devine Comedy, founded in Florence and transferred to Rome. The group was devoted to the poet’s theories and his mysterious life.
While Claudio slept in Vancouver, Loris was conversing with Laura: “I have to call my nephew very soon. If I do not reach him first, he will not! Your father does not even answer the phone calls anymore. He is