My investigation ended because of a misunderstanding that happened in Thailand. They were expecting James Bond and Signore Bon was desperately seeking refuge. You see, he also was a spy, but a coffee spy. He was ruthlessly hunted down by a demented coffee lord in Guatemala because he had stolen the secret of the most expensive coffee in the world. For years he managed to successfully hide his identity posing as a gondolier and a photographer in Venice. That's where I investigated him. I was working for a woman that was willing to pay me his weight in gold in order to get her hands on that coffee secret. And she wanted to keep him alive, which was very important to me - "live and keep them alive" was my moto... It all went well - or so I though. And just when I was sure he had fallen into my trap, il Signore Bon disappeared. I looked for him in vain. I even solicited the help of powerful underground characters of Venice like El Guapo, Il Mister and La Regina that had been my subjects in the past. Nothing. And then, one morning, I received a post card from Thailand. All it said was: "My name is Bon. Signore Bon". Intuitively, I opened the TV. In Thailand they were celebrating Mister Bond's arrival... I knew it was him. I packed my suitcase and went to the vaporetto station. And then I realised I was being watched. I knew it was too risky to ask for El Guapo and il Mister's help... It was obvious I could not follow Signore Bon to Thailand. A photographic investigator has to be faithful to her principles... "Live and keep them alive"... remember? Fortunately my client had payed me a generous amount in advance and I had already explained to her the risks of my profession. I headed to the airport anyway. In my iPod Christina Train was singing "I wanna live in LA"... Why not? I thought... LA it was then... and after a few months maybe Hilo, Hawaii... I always loved that place...
Andreas F. knew how to frame people… He was really good at it… Andreas F. was a legend. Venice was his playground and a digital Nikon his weapon of choice. Sometimes someone would hire him to frame someone with an analogic camera, especially if they wanted the framing to be slow and painful… He was presice and methodical, he never left loose ends. If you wanted the job to be done, you'd hire Andreas F. Women adored him, men were intimidated by him. Of course, Andreas F. was not cheap... He wouldn't get out of bed for less than half a million dollars... Andreas F. worth every penny of it. The framing was clean, smooth, silent. All that was left when he was finished was the smoke of his cigarette… Marlboro, they said… But who really knew what brand of cigarettes Andreas F. smoked? It was the 31st of May… It was my birthday… I had no money, no job, no hope for the future. Venice was hot, humid and dangerously seductive… An old connection of mine I happened to meet for a spritz the day before, had told me a rich Venetian woman was willing to give 2 million euros to anyone who would frame Andreas F. I could ask for the reasons, but I didn't have to… I said I would do it. I needed the money, I had nothing to loose and I really wanted to know what brand of cigarettes Andreas F. smoked… Even if it was the last thing I saw… It wasn't difficult to track him… I wasn't new to the job… I won't bother you with the details… The framing worked. All I had to do was to hand over the card and collect the money. But life wouldn't just be so sweet for me… As I looked away from the vaporetto that would take me to Punta Sabbioni, I saw him framing me. I didn't feel a thing. He really was smooth. He really was merciful. I throw the card in the Canal Grande. I sat down. As I started to feel the effects of the framing, the san Marco square was already a blur. It was pointless to hold on to reality. As Venice was fading away, I saw the headline in tomorrow's papers: "Who framed Andreas F.?"… My eyes were closed. All I could see was cigarette smoke. Good bye Venice…
