Which brings us to, 10. the most contentious issue of alclass="underline" the relationship between the murders and the book The Kill, published anonymously as a fanciful memoir by Editiones Mandatore, Madrid, in 1973, then by Universidad di Seville in 1997, where it was presented without the introduction as a work of fiction: one in a series of novels published as ‘crimes in the city’.
The magistrate regretted the coincidence very much, and wished that the link had never been drawn — another attempt by Krawiec to muddy the water, this one, wildly successful. True, a copy of the book (the ’97 edition) was discovered in Krawiec’s apartment. The magistrate had to be honest. ‘The book, this Kill, is not about Naples. It doesn’t mention the city, the region, the country. Not once. The city in the book bears no comparison to the city in reality. It is a work of imagination and a truly regrettable coincidence.’
‘So you’ve read it?’
‘It has been a while now, and I no longer recall the details.’
‘But the details are very similar.’
‘They appear similar.’
‘A room prepared with plastic. The body cut up and left in the palazzo. The blood.’
The magistrate shook his head.
‘In the novel, there are other items. What happens with the feet, if I remember correctly. The bones. The organs. An ear. Teeth. Some hair. A tongue. Evidence is deliberately scattered in places to incriminate people who live in the palazzo. There are elements that seem similar, but a number of important pieces aren’t there.’
When asked if he believed whether Marek Krawiec and the Second Man had collaborated precisely to realize the murder described in The Kill, the magistrate shrugged.
‘To what purpose would they do this? They abducted tourists. These were crimes of profit or opportunity. Pure and simple. To recreate a fictional event is something much more imaginative, even intellectual. Something well beyond their scope. And they would have to have read the book. Marek Krawiec does not read or speak Spanish. He has the book, but he can’t read it. Perhaps he knew something of the story, and perhaps this is part of his fiction, along with the brothers, another invention.’ The magistrate asked Finn to consider. ‘The practicalities are more convincing. You abduct someone from a train station. What are you going to do? You rob them, take from them whatever you want, or do with them whatever you want to do, and because you have already exposed yourself to certain unnecessary risks it becomes necessary for you to kill them. This is a city of four and a half million people who live on top of each other and who know each other’s business. So what are you to do? Such murders involve dismemberment because you cannot walk out of a palazzo with a whole body, not without being seen, but if you divide something into small enough parts, and if you are a little clever in how you dispose of these parts, it is possible that you will never be discovered.’
‘But there are connections between them?’
‘Unfortunately, there are general connections, yes. But it has been a year since I read it. Without the book this is not such an interesting case. Without the novel nothing distinguishes itself above other such events. It’s possible that this aspect of the case, which has been greatly speculated over, has meant a certain kind of concentration, an inclination toward the more sensational elements, which has, in turn, distracted us from asking the proper questions.’
The magistrate folded his hands together and smiled, closing the discussion about the book.
‘Why did the evidence point only to one killing?’
He looked directly at Finn. ‘Because we found only one crime scene. They wouldn’t have risked committing a second crime in the same place. The evidence from via Capasso indicated only that the American had been killed there. Although this was considerably degraded. It might be possible that two people were killed there, although only one dismemberment took place.’
‘And you believe Marek Krawiec to be the main instigator?’
‘I do. Krawiec’s skill, if this is the right word, is in his “everydayness”. The issue — let me give you my experience — is that wickedness is not as interesting as you might hope. Krawiec appears normal, a neighbour, someone who can be trusted, because, for most of the time, this is exactly who he is. In most circumstances he is entirely ordinary. There is nothing exotic about him, and nothing immediately apparent in his personality that would show him capable of such violence. If you want to understand him you should speak with the people in the palazzo who were familiar with him. They also were convinced by him, and managed to draw them into his version of the world. This is typical of someone who is dissociative. They will insist on a reinterpretation of events, and they will draw people into their schemes and ideas. I don’t think Krawiec was the sole perpetrator, but I consider him to be the sole author.’
The magistrate had one last thing to say: ‘People come here believing all kinds of things about the city — I’m sure you have your own ideas — that it is violent, corrupt. It is hard to refute the facts. The city has its problems. There are many issues. But it does seem, and this is perhaps truer when speaking about Naples than any other city, that stories are written and ideas are decided long before anyone has actually arrived. Do you understand? It is a problem to be spoken about only in one way, to have one kind of discussion, or one common language. To believe in occult signs and coincidences is to lose sight of the facts, and to indulge fanciful ideas. We have enough problems without this becoming more mysterious than it already is, especially because it involves two missing visitors. We still don’t have many answers at this point about what happened. At the moment there is very little truth, what we take to be truth is based on rumours and lies.’
As Finn walked the magistrate to his car, the man’s driver straightened up and opened the door. Finn’s last questions involved Mizuki Katsura.
‘Nothing was found in Tokyo. I even hired someone and they found nothing.’ Mizuki Katsura did not exist. Had the magistrate ever considered this?
The magistrate paused before ducking into the car. ‘We don’t have her name. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t exist. Clearly someone under this name attended classes at the language school, and someone under this name has disappeared. In Europe we should be especially careful of such an idea. Many people who fall victim to crime are undocumented, or have chosen or have no choice but to exist in ways which remain officially off the record.’
‘So you believe that there were two victims.’
‘There are three, remember. The man at the paint factory is a victim as well as a culprit.’
Finn nodded in agreement.
The magistrate lowered himself slowly into the car, then fixed Finn with a gaze, cold eyes, grey, white-rimmed and a little clouded. ‘I will give you the ending of your book,’ he said, with just an edge of a wry small smile. ‘Consider how smoothly this was achieved. I do not believe that this is the work of a novice. It is possible that Marek Krawiec and the man found at the paint factory had a criminal career which involved the disappearance of considerably more than two people. Krawiec also might have had experience prior to his arrival here. What better place to disguise himself? What you must write about, if there is any need for clarity, is the history of Niccolò Scafuti, and the damage done to the city.’
Finn watched the car draw away then looked with satisfaction at the boutiques along via Crispi. A profitable meeting, which provided both a beginning and the end. As soon as he was on the metro Finn checked his mini-recorder. Nothing you could broadcast, not in terms of quality, but still useable.