The story – like the previous ones (click here for more stories) – is a result of the author’s fantasy, even if the main characters really existed. Here are some important notes for understanding the text… [to read the Preliminary Note click here].

First chapter, click here.

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II.

The smell of the stew mixed terribly with the pungent smell of blood, while a ray of sunshine illuminated poor Lou’s tortured face.

Friedrich stood still.

Immobile.

Paralyzed by that scene.

Suddenly, his strength was weakened and he fell to his knees before the body of his wife, now without life.

So many minutes, hours passed. The silence was broken only by the ticking of the clock in the corridor and the creaking of the old house.

Far away a dull noise continued to be etched on the door of the house of the Nietzsche-Salomé couple. The strong fists were interspersed with cries. It was precisely that which broke Friedrich’s lethargic state that he found his lucidity.

He looked around.

Tears still ran down his face, but he found the strength to get up and go towards the noise that still continued, continued, continued.

«Friedrich, Friedrich… Lou… are you there?».

It was the voice of Peter.

He came to the door and opened it. Peter saw Friedrich’s face upset, his eyes swollen with despair and pain, pain and despair that translated into copious tears, his hands trembling. He just hugged his friend. He immediately understood the gravity of the situation. Then he took Friedrich by the arm and headed to the dining room.

They sat on the sofa and Friedrich found the courage to tell them all.

«Friedrich, we must warn the “Regia Polizia”».

Nietzsche did not answer. He just nodded.

***

The “Regia Polizia” did not delay in arriving and in the person of the commissioner Siccardi immediately began the investigation, first interrogating Peter Gast, then Nietzsche.

«From what is described» – said the small and awkward officer – «the situation is very clear. It is a robbery gone wrong, Mr Fridricc…».

Foreign words were not his strong point and complete indifference to the situation struck even more Nietzsche who tried to say something, but was immediately stopped by the commissioner.

«You say you have no enemies. None of them had any reason to hate you and your wife. What else is left?» – said the commissioner calmly, smoothing his mustache and still showing a certain sassy indifference.

«I don’t know what could remain, but it seems to me that this is a hasty solution» – said Nietzsche angrily.

«Listen Mr Nicc… Nicce… here we have anarchists who put under the suburbs of the city every day… political agitators of all kinds… and starving people who go around looking for people just like you… Someone of these broke into the house and…did what he did…».

«And why is nothing missing here in the house? What would this thief have stolen?» – replied Nietzsche.

«Then, let’s do it like this. Check everything, then we’ll see what to do. Meanwhile, I take care of your wife’s body. I’ve already told the doctor. He will be here shortly».

The commissioner stood up and approached the body of the victim again. He looked at the scene as one would at an opera. The body had several bulges due to the blows received: on the forehead he had a large wound, probably the cause of death – thought the commissioner. He looked at the table. The window. Then he turned and walked to the entrance. He looked at the door and went out.

In the meantime, the doctor had made his entrance and he did nothing but confirm what was obvious to all: death by skull fracture. One strong blow to the head, fatal blow.

Nietzsche, on the other side of the house, was walking nervously in front of the window, he stopped and looked out for a moment. The dim lights of Turin illuminated the commissioner intent on chatting with a man in his fifties. Then, he took out a note from the pocket of his coat and handed it to the man who immediately walked away. Nietzsche watched carefully every move of the commissioner Siccardi who took his cigar to his mouth, looked around and returned to the palace.

Giovanni Covino

[Read the third chapter]