Stefano Vignaroli - Esoteric Crimes

Preface Preface What does a series of mysterious disappearances in Trioria, Liguria, have in common with a witch’s murder that happened more than four centuries before? Is it possible for two occurrences so chronologically distant to be related? A real mystery on which police chief Caterina Ruggeri will have to shed light at all costs. She. will have to retrace a gloomy trail that really seems to have esoteric roots. That is how “Esoteric Crimes” presents itself, as a novel that tastes like blood and has the color of the starless nights. It is a thrilling noir able to leave the readers breathless and making them feel that sinister tingling that one can perceive only by reading a good thriller. A straightforward book that's not distant from reality. But at the same time, with its esoterism, it seems so far from it, as if it wants to escape it, bringing and dragging the reader in a world of fantasy, imagination, and … thrills! Filippo Munaro

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

EPILOGUE

AUTHOR’S NOTE AND THANKS

Stefano Vignaroli

Esoteric crimes

Police Chief Caterina Ruggeri’s

First Investigation

Translater: Gabriela Gubenco

NOVEL

ESOTERIC CRIMES

Stefano Vignaroli

Police Chief Caterina Ruggeri’s First Investigation

Copyright © 2011 - 2018 Stefano Vignaroli

All rights reserved

© 2020 Tektime for English edition

Translated by Gabriela Gubenco

ISBN

Website http://www.stedevigna.com

Contact E-mail stedevigna@gmail.com

What does a series of mysterious disappearances in Trioria, Liguria, have in common with a witch’s murder that happened more than four centuries before? Is it possible for two occurrences so chronologically distant to be related?

A real mystery on which police chief Caterina Ruggeri will have to shed light at all costs. She. will have to retrace a gloomy trail that really seems to have esoteric roots.

That is how “Esoteric Crimes” presents itself, as a novel that tastes like blood and has the color of the starless nights. It is a thrilling noir able to leave the readers breathless and making them feel that sinister tingling that one can perceive only by reading a good thriller.

A straightforward book that's not distant from reality. But at the same time, with its esoterism, it seems so far from it, as if it wants to escape it, bringing and dragging the reader in a world of fantasy, imagination, and … thrills!

Filippo Munaro

Summer 1989

Border between Nepal and People’s Republic of China

When the Sherpa reached the umpteenth suspension bridge, they explained, in broken English, to the two women that have hired them in Kathmandu that they would never go beyond that point. They were not allowed to challenge their deities; they were too afraid. None of them has ever ventured beyond that bridge. Those, who in the past have dared to do so, never returned. If the women wanted to continue, they would have to do that at their own risk and peril. They would leave them the bare essentials to carry in their backpacks, some food, some chocolate bars, a camping stove, and the light two-seater igloo tent. They would wait for them for three days, and no more. The day was clear and, the rarefied air of almost four thousand meters of altitude gave the sky an intense blue color. The tops of the highest mountains on Earth challenged, with their snowy peaks, that same blue sky. Aurora and Larìs pulled out the warm Goretex windbreakers, which until then have protected them from the sudden blizzards, that they often have faced during the previous five days. Their purpose was certainly not to experience the thrill of an extreme vacation but to reach the Temple of Knowledge and Regeneration and to meet the Grand Patriarch. They would draw on the universal knowledge preserved in the temple and thus become members of the highest level of the sect. They already knew that from that point on, they would have to proceed alone, relying on their intuition and their powers. If they failed, if they went the wrong way, it would be impossible for them to save themselves. They would only find death in those mountains. Aurora paid the agreed-upon to the Sherpa chief, telling him that if he wanted, he could leave immediately. But the man with the Asian features, who held the reins of a lama, shook his head and repeated: «Three days.»

He warmed a strong tea for the two women and dismissed them, waving them goodbye. The old woman and her young friend hoisted their backpacks and ventured onto the bridge, suspended over an abyss of at least eight hundred meters high.

Caterina Ruggeri

The voice of the plane’s pilot in command who warned the passengers of the now imminent landing brought me back to reality. Ancona is just an hour flight from Genoa, but my mind has been engaged in a whirlwind of thoughts. The events of the past few days have brought my life to a turning point. I thought about my past and my future. Now I had an important position, I had been appointed police chief in Imperia, and I never thought that this appointment would come so soon. Of course, I’ve spent exciting years as head of the Dogs’ Unit of the State Police at the Raffaello Sanzio airport in Ancona. I had had the opportunity to achieve what I have always liked from an early age: work with police dogs and train them, from drug-sniffing dogs to rescue from rubble dogs, from anti-riot dogs to the so-called molecular ones, that is those dogs that are suited for the research of trails and missing people. On the other hand, besides being engaged in a job that I liked very much, I also had the time to devote myself to studying and graduating in Law. I specialized in Criminology and hoped for the desired career advancement.

I would certainly never abandon my passion for dogs. That passion has been passed down to me by my veterinary cousin, Stefano, now fifty years old and medical director of the Aesis Veterinary Clinic. Stefano had always been my secret love since I was little. My second cousin, twelve years older than me, had always attracted me in a particular way. The memory of a Ferragosto twenty-five years ago would forever stay alive in my mind. At the time, I was little more than a child: I had attended the second year of middle school and was not yet thirteen years old. He had just graduated in Veterinary Medicine in Perugia.

I was on vacation with my family: father, mother, and my two twin brothers, Alfonso and Stella, in a beautiful location in the Sibillini Mountains, at 1,400 meters above sea level. My father, crazy about alternative holidays, would have never taken us on vacation in a hotel. So, we used the brand-new truck tent that he had just purchased.

My family and Stefano’s were very close. My cousin joined us early in the morning, together with his two sisters and his mother, to spend Ferragosto with us. The day was already splendid, serene, clear, and cloudless. The crisp mountain air was perfect for a nice walk, so we decided to reach a refuge located at an hour and a half walk from the place where we were camping. From there, another half an hour of a tough climb made it possible to reach a peak called Pizzo Tre Vescovi. All the way, I had ignored my equal in age cousin, trying to stay as close as possible to Stefano and to talk with him. He had spoken about the university, his current and future plans, how and why he had recently broken up with his girlfriend, with whom he had shared over five years of life. Stefano and I were the most passionate about the mountains and the most hardened to physical fatigue. When we reached the refuge, the others had decided to rest and dedicate themselves to the picking of blueberries and raspberries whereas the two of us had extended the hike to the top. My father had agreed to meet us at the camp for lunch at one o’clock. With a slightly childish but targeted gesture, I took Stefano’s hand in mine and started with him up the steep and tiring path. The show at the top had paid off the effort to get there. On such a clear day, you could glance at the Umbrian mountains to the west, the Adriatic Sea to the east, the Pesarese mountains to the north, and the massive shape of Monte Vettore to the south. The latter closed the horizon and prevented from getting a glimpse of Laga and Abruzzo’s mountains.