The Fifth Gospel(183)

            “Commander,” says the presiding judge, “would you please identify yourself to the tribunal?”

            He studies each monsignor, one by one. Then, in a deep voice, he says, “Eugenio Falcone. Inspector General of Vatican gendarmes.”

            Without prompting, he reaches into his breast pocket and produces a sheet of paper. His notes.

            The sight shakes Mignatto into action. He raises his hand and scribbles something on his pad. I’m just able to read it before he slips it to the judges.

            Canon 1566: Witnesses are to give testimony orally and are not to read written materials.

            The judges ignore him. The tribunal will listen.

            “The deceased,” Falcone reads aloud, “was killed by a single gunshot to his right temple from a 6.35-millimeter round discharged at close range. A firearm of this caliber was registered to the deceased, and we have reason to believe it was kept in a gun case in his automobile just prior to the murder.”

            This statement chokes the judges. But inside it is the missing piece: the object taken from under the driver’s seat of Ugo’s car was a gun case.

            “The window of the deceased’s automobile,” Falcone continues, “was found to be shattered, and the gun case was no longer present within the automobile. Our conclusion is that the defendant broke into the deceased’s car and took his gun in order to commit the murder.”

            The presiding judge plods into his first line of questioning. “We’ve heard from a forensic specialist, Doctor Corvi, that you expected to find a particular model of gun. Your prediction was correct?”

            Falcone tucks his notes away. The slit of his mouth is thinner than an incision when he says, “We’re still searching for the gun case and gun.”

            “Can you tell us, then, about the medical examiner’s finding that no wallet or wristwatch were present on the body of the deceased? Those items were recovered at Castel Gandolfo?”

            “No.”

            “Yet that doesn’t lead you to suspect this was a robbery?”

            “It leads me to suspect that a robbery was staged.”

            “Why?”

            “The deceased’s car was broken into, but the glove box wasn’t rifled.”

            Mignatto dashes out another note and sends it to the youngest judge.

            “Eh, Inspector,” the judge breaks in, “could you tell us how many days you’ve been searching for all these items? The gun, the case, the wallet, the watch?”

            “Six days.”

            “And how many of your men have been conducting this search?”

            A defensive note enters Falcone’s voice. “Twelve per shift. Three shifts per day.”

            Almost a third of our national police force.

            “Have you also had help?”

            “From the carabinieri, yes.”

            The Italian police.

            “So where could these items be?”

            Falcone glares at the judge. It is said that he can toss a full-grown man off the hem of the pope’s cassock like throwing away a tissue. He doesn’t answer.

            “Right here,” the young judge says, “I have the transcript from your police report. One of your agents, Bracco, questioned Father Andreou at Castel Gandolfo. Is that right?”