Gone... E-Book

Annemarie Nikolaus

• Herausgeber: Publisher s15153
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

In the end; death. But why?
The circumstances are mysterious and no-one is able to bring light into the darkness. Provided someone tries at all … or wants to.
Three speculative short stories.

Leseprobe

In the end; death. But why?

The circumstances are mysterious and no one is able to shed some light into the darkness. Assuming someone tries at all... or wants to.

Three deadly short stories.

Annemarie Nikolaus

Gone...

– Deadly Short Stories –

Copyright © 2022 Annemarie Nikolaus

License Notes

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The Settlement

Three Fiats with the golden flame of the Guardia di Finanza printed on their doors were parked in front of his bank this morning. It annoyed bank manager Michele Perini that they were parked directly in front of his door. It made it unmistakeably clear to every passer-by that the financial police were investigating the bank.

Through the glass entrance, he could see the entire lobby. Only two uniformed police officers were hanging around outside his office, meaning the rest were already in the conference room and looking at files.

At one of the counters, there was a customer whose name escaped him. On the opposite wall, Fernando d’Alesi was leaning with his face hidden behind a newspaper – he recognised the heir of the ancient noble family by his ring.

Michele wiped his brow with his handkerchief. Then he folded it again along the creases and entered the bank.

Despite seeming so engrossed, d’Alesi immediately made a beeline for him. “Direttore, I’ve been waiting for an hour. I really must talk to you.”

“Please, spare yourself the bother of coming by every morning. As soon as the files have been released, I will contact you. I really am very sorry to delay you; you know that.” He left him where he was and hurried towards his office.

One of the police officers standing in front of his office asked, “The young man who waits here for you every day; what does he want?”

“Money. What else do people want from a bank?”

Michele awoke with a yelp.

“Oddio, Michele, what are you dreaming about now?!” His wife Carla turned the bedside lamp on, letting out a sigh. “If it’s going to carry on like this for the next few nights, I’d rather sleep in the spare room. As if you whimpering like an abandoned kitten wasn’t enough, now you’re flinging your arms about.” She felt for his hand underneath the duvet and squeezed. “Same dream again?”

“She’s getting closer every night! I run and run, but I can’t get away from her. This time her arms were reaching out towards me. I felt her breath on the back of my neck.” He shivered. “And then a great abyss appeared – there was no way out. It was awful! Nothing can save me from her wrath.” He wiped his brow, which was covered in sweat. “Maybe I shouldn’t eat so much when I come home late.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t come home late at all.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t leave my people to deal with the financial police by themselves. That wouldn’t be right. Just a few more days; then the nightmare’s over. I’m sure no one at the bank was knowingly involved in money laundering.”

“Then you should be able to sleep soundly,” she retorted. “Anyway, why is it never the examining magistrate who appears in your dream? Why is it always the old countess who chases you?”

He couldn’t answer that. He stared out of the window. In the light of the full moon, Castle Madruzzo sat like a silhouette on top of the hill in the distance. He shivered at the sight of it and pulled the duvet up to his face.

The following week, Michele parked his car in front of the beige walls of Castle Madruzzo. Breathing heavily, he climbed the steep porphyry staircase to the first floor. D’Alesi had restored half of the first floor and fitted a bathroom and heating. The rest of the castle had been uninhabited for a long time.

Hanging on the walls of the staircase were pictures of d’Alesi’s noble ancestors: all of them sinister looking paintings, apart from one. Contessa Marcella de Eccher – Fernando d’Alesi’s grandmother – wasn’t only shown in watercolour as a young girl. Next to that, there was also a portrait photo that had probably been taken shortly before her death. She looked exactly as she appeared in Michele’s dreams.

D’Alesi came out of the sitting room. “You look exhausted, Direttore. Thank you for making the effort to come by so late.”

“Well, at least we won’t be disturbed here and can look at the documents in peace and quiet.” He laid three stuffed folders on the oak table in the middle of the room. As he opened the clasps, they almost fell apart completely. “Your beloved grandmother was, unfortunately, a little bit disorganised. She simply insisted on her own filing system. That’s why I’ve allowed myself to sort the files before I came.”

“The most important thing is that the documents are all complete. Everything else will sort itself out.” D’Alesi reached for a pile of roughly-folded forms.

They sat looking at the documents for the numerous stock market dealings the countess had been involved in in the few years before her death until late in the night. Now and again, they looked at each other amazed when they came across a particularly successful speculation.

“It really is fascinating,” said Michele eventually. “You’d be tempted to think your grandmother had a sixth sense about the stock market.”

“But what did she end up doing with all that money?” asked d’Alesi.

“Well it’s not in our bank.”

“But you haven’t brought any documents which show she withdrew everything.”

“There isn’t a bank account the remaining money could be in. Which means it isn’t there.”