Jeff Carson - Foreign Deceit

The art work on filthy dirt-yellow walls outside of the room was a collection of askew black and white pictures of various buildings in rubble, as if after an earthquake, or an intense aerial shelling. Directly in front of them in the distance was another entrance with a metal detector. A young Caribinieri officer armed with his own Baretta was at the entrance was interrogating an Asian couple with a baby, while people streamed in behind them setting off the alarm. No one of authority seemed to care about the blinking light and incessant beeping, so Wolf guessed he shouldn’t either.

Directly above them was an immensely vaulted ceiling, and a stone stairway to the left that spiraled upwards to each level above. Wolf hoped to God they were going up, and to his relief Tito was already halfway up the first flight, wrapping up his phone conversation.

Upstairs was open, light, and had a beautiful view of the lake. The windows were all propped ajar letting in the pleasant breeze which carried nondescript mouthwatering aromas Wolf couldn’t put his finger on. Caribinieri uniformed officers bustled about.

Tito stopped and looked to his right with a big inhale while he pulled down his uniform top with both hands. Colonnello Marino said the door label. A booming voice shook the frosted glass from within. Tito stepped to it and knocked gingerly three times.

“Dai!” The door shook on its hinges.

Tito poked his head in hesitantly, and then entered, opening the door to let Wolf in behind him. Colonnello Marino had a phone up to his ear and looked towards the windows to their right. He waved his hand towards two chairs against the wall to their immediate left without looking.

Colonnello Marino yelled loudly in rapid Italian, slamming his fist into his leg. Tito squirmed in his chair and his face drained white. Sweat beaded and ran down his perfectly manicured hairline.

Marino finished his conversation and twisted in his chair violently. Tito flinched, and Marino held up a finger to them, still not resting his eyes on his new visitors, pushed his finger on the plunger, then dialed a phone number and twisted to the window again.

Wolf watched Marino bounce his head, speak in pleasant tones, laugh heartily, hand gesture animatedly, mumble niceties — Wolf began wondering just what the hell was happening. He waited patiently.

Marino swiveled back to the phone again and Wolf noted on his watch the seven minutes that had already passed. The Colonnello brought his non-phone hand to the ancient rotary, pressed the switch again, then dialed another number and held up a finger as he swiveled slowly towards the window.

“Excuse me, sir,” Wolf said. “I’ve come a long way and would like to speak about my brother. My brother John Wolf?”

Colonnello Marino pulled the handset from his face and swiveled his chair, shooting a hot glare that bore deep into Wolf’s eyes. He pause for a breath and then his face melted into sympathy in a split instant. “Ah, yes. Mr. Wolf. I am-a sorry about your brother. And I am-a sorry about-a-my English-a. It is terrible.” He gently hung up the phone, then launched into a fast paced pleasant sounding paragraph, speaking directly to Tito.

Tito turned halfway to Wolf, taking on the role of interpreter.

“He says that he is waiting for the final release papers for releasing your brother’s body. It should be at some time een the next two days when everything is finished and signed, so you can take him home.”

Colonnello Marino folded his hands and leaned forward on his desk with a sympathetic expression.

“Okay, thank you,” Wolf said. “As I explained to the man I spoke to on the phone, Detective Rossi, I am a police officer in the United States. I would like to see my brother’s body, the police report, my brother’s apartment, and speak to the officers who found my brother.”

Tito turned to Colonello Marino and interpreted for Wolf, using far less words than he had. Wolf furrowed his brow and looked to Tito.

The Colonnello reached and lit a cigarette in a practiced flourish, taking a deep inhale. He spoke his exhale, “Meester Wolf. I-a-understand your-a concern weet your broder’s det,” he placed the cigarette in the ash tray and folded his hands. Smoke streamed from the desk top in front of his face. “I can geev-a you-a Tito tomorrow to go see your broder,” he said picking up the phone and dialing a phone number. He plucked his cigarette, swiveled to the window, and began a jovial conversation into the receiver.

Tito exhaled in relief, stood and opened the office door.

Wolf sat still for a few seconds, then stood, leaving his backpack on the ground, and walked to Colonnello Marino’s desk. He reached out and pushed down the phone switch.

Colonnello Marino looked genuinely puzzled at the handset for a second and then slowly looked to Wolf holding his finger on the switch. His face contorted into a deep hate filled rage.

“I need more than Tito for a day. I need to see my brother, I need to see the police report, my brother’s apartment, and to speak to the officers who found my brother,” Wolf said.

Marino’s face brightened to a glistening tomato-red in a matter of seconds. “Yyyyyyyyyou-a don’t-a tell-a ME what-a-to do!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs, and then he snapped a quick order to Tito who relayed something out into the main room.

An instant later, two officers slammed into the office, each snapping an arm back and kicking the back of his knees, landing him hard on the tile floor. A third showed up and wrapped him in a choke hold, pulling him up to his feet.

“You-a-want-a to tell-a…us how-a to investigate? American Cowboy?” Marino said loudly. Wolf could hear a group gathering in the office doorway behind him, officers shuffling to get in on the action.

“Sir,” Wolf coughed, struggling to breath. “No sir.”

Marino motioned for the officer to release his choke hold.

Wolf sucked in a breath, making a show of how mentally and physically destroyed he was at that moment, though the chokehold had been hesitant by the officer behind him, or just weak. “Colonnello Marino, please help me. My mother and I are in desperate need for some answers about his death. I’m not saying you have conducted a poor investigation, I am saying there is no way you could have known my brother like I do, and I know for a fact that he didn’t kill himself. I have some irrefutable evidence that he has not. I just ask for some help from your department, and to please allow me to go over the evidence found at the scene.”

Marino looked down his nose with a puzzled look at Wolf. He seemed to contemplate his words for a few seconds, then looked to the rest of the now crowded room with an amused look. “Non capito niente!”

The officers in the room began chuckling and looking quickly to one another, mood quickly turning to a jovial atmosphere. This crazy American makes no sense!

A female voice interjected loudly, speaking rapidly in Italian directly behind Wolf. He turned to find a stunningly beautiful young woman speaking in reasonable tones, gesturing to Wolf and speaking to Marino in a pleading tone. She looked to be arguing in Wolf’s defense.

When she finished, Marino lit a cigarette and looked at Wolf up and down. The room was dead silent, awaiting the emperor’s decree. A distant car horn honked from somewhere in the streets below. An officer coughed lightly behind him.

Marino put his cigarette into the ash tray and stood directly in front of him, index finger tapping hard on his chest.

“Do not make-a me hangry, do you understand?”

“Uh…yes sir,” Wolf assumed he meant to say angry .

Marino looked at the other officers and began waving them out of the room. He barked a long order at the beautiful young woman who pushed her way to a standing at attention position next to Wolf. She was listening intently with a stone face. She finally answered in a curt affirmative.