Man, what a day! I swear, if I had a euro for every crazy thing that happened in Pianura today, I’d be rich. So, I wake up, right? The sun’s blaring through my window on Via Roma, and I’m like, “Ugh, not today.” But duty calls, ya know?
First stop, the café on Corso Garibaldi. Best espresso in town. I grab my usual—double shot, no sugar. The barista, Luca, gives me that look. You know the one. Like, “You again?” I just smirk and say, “Yeah, I’m addicted. What’s it to ya?” He laughs, but I can tell he’s judging me. Whatever, I need my fix.
So, I’m sippin’ my coffee, scrolling through my phone. Newsflash: some dude got robbed near Piazza della Libertà. Great. Just what I need. I finish my drink, toss a few coins on the counter, and head out.
I stroll down Via Mazzini, and it’s packed. Tourists everywhere, snapping pics of the old buildings. I mean, they’re nice and all, but c’mon, people! Watch where you’re going! I almost trip over some kid’s skateboard. I yell, “Hey! This ain’t a skate park!” The kid just shrugs. Kids these days, no respect.
I finally make it to the scene of the crime. Cops are already there, doing their thing. I flash my badge, and they let me through. The victim, some poor guy in a suit, is pacing like a caged animal. “They took my wallet! My phone!” he’s wailing. I’m like, “Dude, chill. It’s just stuff.” But I get it. It’s his stuff.
I start asking questions. Turns out, the thief was a pro. Snatched the guy’s stuff and vanished into thin air. I’m thinking, “Great, another ghost to chase.” I check the nearby alleys—nothing. Just a bunch of stray cats lounging around. I swear, those cats are living the dream.
Next, I head over to Via della Repubblica. I’m feeling a bit peckish, so I pop into this little panificio. Best focaccia in town, no contest. I grab a slice, and it’s heavenly. I’m munching away, thinking about the case, when I overhear some old ladies gossiping. “Did you hear about the mayor?” one says. “He’s in hot water!” I’m like, “What now?” Apparently, he’s been caught doing some shady deals. Typical.
I finish my focaccia and head back to the station. My partner, Marco, is already there, looking frazzled. “You won’t believe this,” he says. “We got a call about a missing dog.” I roll my eyes. “A dog? Seriously?” But Marco’s all fired up. “It’s a golden retriever! Named ‘Biscotti’!”
Now, I’m a dog person, so I can’t resist. We hit the streets again, this time searching for Biscotti. We check the parks, the piazzas, even the gelato shop on Via Cavour. No luck. I’m starting to lose hope when we get a tip. Someone saw a golden retriever near the old fountain at Parco della Rimembranza.
We rush over, and there he is! Biscotti, living his best life, chasing pigeons. I can’t help but laugh. “You little rascal!” I call out. The owner shows up, and she’s in tears. “Thank you! Thank you!” I’m feeling like a hero.
But then, just as I’m about to head home, my phone buzzes. Another robbery. This time on Via dei Mille. I’m like, “Are you kidding me?” I’m exhausted, but duty calls again.
I get to the scene, and it’s chaos. People everywhere, shouting, crying. I start taking statements, and it hits me—this city, Pianura, it’s beautiful but wild. It’s got its charm, but it’s also got its darkness.
By the time I finally get home, I’m beat. I flop onto my couch, thinking about the day. It was a rollercoaster, for sure. But that’s life as a detective in Pianura. Full of surprises, laughter, and a whole lot of chaos. And you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.