Free The Ancient Curse by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

he’d accomplished. Only the upper part of the human skeleton was reassembled, and only partially. He realized he might have to ask for help from a technician with expertise in osteology or he’d never manage to finish the job. There was still a lot of work to do, especially on the small fragments that were difficult to identify, and he hadn’t even started on the animal, whose entire skeleton seemed to be present and was in near-perfect condition, except for some cracking and splintering probably due to exposure to freezing temperatures through the millennia. Fabrizio bent over the bones and saw that one of the four huge canine teeth had become detached from the top jaw, most likely jolted loose during transport. He picked it up and slipped it into his pocket, with the intention of observing it carefully and measuring it. He then walked up the stairs, switched off the light and closed the door behind him.
    Lieutenant Reggiani was waiting in his office. When he entered, the officer got to his feet and held out his hand. ‘Dr Castellani,’ he started. His expression made it clear that this was no courtesy call.
    ‘Hello, Lieutenant. Please make yourself at home,’ said Fabrizio in greeting, forcing himself to appear normal. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee? From the dispenser, I mean.’
    ‘That’s fine with me,’ said Reggiani. ‘It’s not as bad as it used to be.’
    Fabrizio left the room, then returned a few moments later with two espressos and two packets of sugar. He sat down at his desk.
    Reggiani took a sip of the steaming coffee and began: ‘Dr Castellani, I’m sorry to be taking up your time, but the circumstances won’t allow me to do otherwise. You know what has been happening in the fields around Volterra . . .’
    ‘I don’t know all the details, but let’s say I’m aware of the situation.’
    ‘You don’t want to know all the details. Unfortunately, the situation is far from being under control and I’ve come here in the hopes that talking with you might give me some new perspective. Let me tell you briefly what’s been going on. On Wednesday at about two a.m., a Finanza police team surprised three individuals trying to break into an Etruscan tomb, the one that you have since become acquainted with.’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘One of them, a person that both we and the Finanza have been watching for some while, a certain Armando Ronchetti, was found dead the next day not far from the site of the break-in. The guy’s throat was basically ripped out. The coroner, who’s certainly used to seeing dead people, vomited his guts out.’
    ‘I can believe it.’
    ‘At first we thought he’d been attacked by a stray, but that seemed unlikely from the start, since Ronchetti had no doubt roamed those fields at night for years, given his line of work, and would certainly have known how to handle any dog. In fact, he had a torch with a flasher in his pocket, along with a pistol, a little 6.35-calibre Astra Llama.
    ‘As far as we can tell, whoever murdered him didn’t even give him the time to put his hand on the gun. Then, on Thursday evening, while you were completing your work at the excavation site, we found a second corpse in even worse shape than the first, slaughtered in the same gruesome way. According to the papers we found in his pocket, he was one Aurelio Rastelli, a resident of Volterra. Like his father, he had a market stall and sold items of clothing. Nothing in his background that could justify such a bloodthirsty murder, except pure chance.’
    ‘What you mean,’ said Fabrizio, ‘is finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
    ‘We have evidence, nonetheless, that Rastelli, like Ronchetti, had been involved – although we don’t know with what frequency – in the clandestine excavation and marketing of archaeological artefacts. You see, in this area, raiding tombs is like a second job for a number of people; a way to earn a little extra cash on the side. We