Determining who the killer was?… Well, honestly, it wasn't too difficult. In retrospect, it had been staring me right in the face. It was Leonardo.
The police referred to him as a ghost—no fingerprints, no evidence, nothing to follow. And the way he killed… it wasn't just violent, it was personal. Quite sloppy. Reckless. As if he was trying to ensure the anguish lasts for a long time.
But my parents?… They were good people. The type of people that would do anything to help a stranger. I still remember them attending the funeral for Leonardo's family. They were sobbing and holding onto everyone who could scarcely stand. Other than being invited, they did not know the family and yet, they attended. That's the kind of people my parents were. There was no reason—no reason that could serve as justification for what Leonardo did.
Once the realization dawned of it being him, I could not walk away. I needed to get close to him
To get near Leonardo was anything but simple.
I started with the obvious—people who used to know him. Old friends, coworkers, neighbors. I asked questions, careful not to spook anyone. Most said the same thing: they hadn't seen him in years. Some looked uncomfortable, like they knew more but wouldn't say. A few mentioned a cabin, way out in the woods, like the kind you only find if you already know it's there.
That's when I started thinking about the restaurant fire again. The one everyone said was an accident. But I don't buy that. Not for a second. The rival owner, Riccardo,had every reason to want the place gone, and the way the investigation wrapped up so neatly? It smelled like hush money. I know I said the case was closed, but something about it still feels unfinished.
I wondered if leonardo knew...