Copyright © 2021 Guido Pagliarino - All rights belong to the author
Distributor Tektime S.r.l.s. - Via Armando Fioretti, 17 - 05030 - Montefranco TR (Italy)
Guido Pagliarino
The Rage of the Reviled
A Story inspired by History
Translation by Barbara Maher
Guido Pagliarino
The Rage of the Reviled
A Story inspired by History
Tektime Distribution
Copyright © 2021 Guido Pagliarino - All rights belong to the author
Translation from Italian to English by Barbara Maher
Title of the original work in Italian: "L’Ira dei Vilipesi".
Editions of the original novel in Italian:
Paper book, copyright © 2017 (until the contractual deadline of 12 March 2022) Genesi Editrice, via Nuoro 3, 10137 Turin, http://www.genesi.org/scheda-libro/guido-pagliarino/lira-dei-vilipesi-9788874146314-471023.html
Electronic book (e-book), copyright © 2018 Guido Pagliarino, Tektime distribution - The rights of translation from Italian to other languages and publication of translations in paper, graphic-electronic, audiobook and any other form and the rights of radio-cine-television broadcasting and in any other form are the exclusive property of the author © Guido Pagliarino
The cover images of the e-book and the paper book both in Italian and in the translations of the work were created electronically by the author © Guido Pagliarino
The characters, the events, the names of people, organisations and companies and their offices that appear in the novel, apart from the figures and events that history remembers, are imaginary; any references to past and present reality are random and completely unintentional.
Index
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
NOVELS AND TALES WITH CHARACTERS OF VITTORIO D'AIAZZO AND RANIERI VELLI (ACCORDING TO THE CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER OF EVENTS)
He had been detained by the officers of a Public Security patrol wagon in the late evening of September 26, 1943, suspected of killing a certain Rosa Demaggi, an attractive peroxide blonde in her thirties, a wealthy prostitute and a retail blackmarketer: the man, strong Neapolitan accent, square face, robust build but not fat, looked to be about forty. He was five feet eight tall, an above average stature in those times of widespread malnutrition, going bald at the forehead and temples and the top of his head, and across the nape of his neck had a semicircle of brown hair kept very short and shaved high. He was wearing overalls and a flannel shirt, both deep blue in color, and light greenish-gray wool gloves.
It was well-known at the Vice Squad in Naples that Rosa Demaggi turned tricks for wealthy men in her home, in Piazzetta del Nilo. Until July 25, she had also conceded her favors to fascist leaders and, after the armistice, when the city fell under the German heel, she had granted herself to officers of the Wehrmacht and the Gestapo. From previous investigations carried out jointly, it was common knowledge in the Vice Squad and Commercial Offenses departments, the latter created after the start of the conflict to combat the black market, that since the summer of 1940 Demaggi had asked to be compensated, preferably, with groceries, cigarettes and liquor, so she could do low-level trafficking on the black market; and it was known that, very quickly, she had expanded the business with purchases from wholesalers linked to the camorra.
As a result, the patrol teams had been ordered to also keep an eye on her dwelling along with others; but discreetly, because of Demaggi's sexual contacts with occupying officers and considering that, after July 25, when the OVRA had been dissolved1 and the secret archive had been opened, it had been discovered that the woman had been a bribed confidant and had reported political information which escaped customers berween the sheets, the heriarchy included. It was therefore assumed that, after the armistice and the German occupation, she had started selling information to the Gestapo officers she went to bed with.
Shortly before the suspect was detained, about 8.30 pm with only half an hour to curfew, as the police wagon was passing through Piazzetta del Nilo, the corporal in command had seen that individual in shabby clothes enter the house where the woman lived, in the only apartment on the ground floor. He didn’t ring and went in through the door which had been left ajar. Since he had his back to the vehicle, the man had not noticed the arrival of the patrol.
After entering, he had not closed the door completely behind himself, but had left it pulled to. The officer had assumed that he, like Demaggi, was involved in the clandestine market and had left it open for other colluders who were on the way. The door left unlocked made it unlikely that he was a sex customer, not counting his roustabout’s clothing and the prostitute’s notoriously high rates. The corporal had ordered the driver to pull over outside the house. The officers had got out, except for the driver, and had let themselves into the apartment.
The suspect had been surprised in the entrance, just beyond the door, standing next to Rosa Demaggi. She was moaning weakly semi-unconscious, and was lying on the ground with a bloody hematoma on the nape of the neck, obviously the consequence of having fallen against a console, to the left entering, which had a blood stain on it. Rosa Demaggi had died a few seconds after the officers had entered. Considering him guilty of assaulting the woman, the man in overalls had been handcuffed. The patrol chief had said to him: "You came in here with the intention of killing her and it took you just a few seconds to hit her on the head: she was in the entrance waiting for you, she trusted you because she had left the doot open. But you, unexpectedly, without giving her time to escape, slammed her head hard against the furniture to kill her. You were counting on getting away immediately afterwards, in fact you hadn’t closed the door when you came in, so as not to waste time reopening it as you went out: you would have pulled it behind you as soon as you were outside and toodle-loo, who knows who and when the body would be found. You hadn't imagined that we would