With Lucia Marini's arrival on the scene, the investigation finally takes a clear and informed direction. The commissioner observes, listens, and brings order without raising her voice, immediately establishing a relationship of trust with those who truly know those places.
Among sober offices, annotated maps, and partial testimonies, details emerge that cease to be isolated incidents and begin to interact with each other. Lake Como, still and deceptive, serves as the backdrop to a truth that refuses to remain hidden. Lucia senses that it's not just a matter of finding a culprit, but of understanding a language made of symbols and omissions. This is the moment when the investigation stops chasing events and begins to anticipate them. From now on, nothing will be random.
When the investigation shifts gears and the silence begins to weigh
Detective novel. The Secrets of Piona Abbey. Chapter 7: Commissioner Lucia Marini Steps Into the Spotlight
She got out, shut the car, and crossed the short stretch of road that separated her from the entrance. Inside, the air smelled of polished wood and paper. The sentry was already on his feet, as if he had been expecting her.
“Good morning, I’m Commissioner Marini,” Lucia said.
“Good morning, Commissioner,” the carabiniere replied respectfully. “Marshal Scandurra informed me you were arriving.”
“Perfect.”
“If you’d like to take a seat for a moment in the waiting room, I’ll let him know right away.”
Lucia nodded. “Thank you.”
The waiting room was bare-bones: wooden chairs, a small table with a few magazines, an Arma calendar hanging crooked on the wall. Lucia sat down, set her bag beside her, and let her eyes drift over the room.
The sentry walked down the corridor to notify Marshal Salvatore Scandurra.
Scandurra was Sicilian, forty-five years old, carried with discipline. Originally from the province of Trapani, he had begun his career very young, choosing the Carabinieri as a way out of a complicated land, where authority is earned every day and credibility is worth more than rank. He had served in several difficult contexts: first in small rural posts, then in urban areas where the line between petty crime and organized crime was thin and unstable.
Over the years he had learned never to raise his voice, to observe more than he spoke.
Blue eyes, cold when necessary; hair always slicked back with an almost stubborn care; an athletic build maintained with rigor. His old-fashioned mustache had become a kind of personal signature—so much so that no one could imagine him without it. He wasn’t a man who chased quick promotions, but one who built a reputation day by day, case by case. In Dervio he was considered a fixed point: reliable, methodical, incapable of being dragged off course by emotion.After a few minutes, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Lucia stood.
Scandurra approached with a composed but cordial expression.
“Commissioner Marini,” he said, holding out his hand. “Welcome.”
“Marshal Scandurra,” Lucia replied, shaking it firmly. “Thank you for your availability.”
“The least I can do,” he said. “If you’ll follow me.”....
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