THE MONSTER OF FLORENCE by Douglas Preston - SIGNED FIRST LARGE PRINT EDITION BOOK
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the tradition of John Berendt’s Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
and Erik Larson’s The Devil in the White City, Douglas Preston weaves a
captivating account of crime and punishment in the lush hills of
Douglas Preston fulfilled a lifelong dream when he moved with his
family to a villa in Florence. Upon meeting celebrated journalist Mario
Spezi, Preston was stunned to learn that the olive grove next to his
home had been the scene of a horrific double murder committed by one of
the most infamous figures in Italian history. A serial killer who
ritually murdered fourteen young lovers, he has never been caught. He
is known as the Monster of Florence.
Fascinated by the tale, Preston began to work with Spezi on the
case. Here is the true story of their search to uncover and confront
the man they believe is the Monster. In an ironic twist of fate that
echoes the dark traditions of the city’s bloody history, Preston and
Spezi themselves became targets of a bizarre police investigation.
With the gripping suspense of Preston’s bestselling novels, THE
MONSTER OF FLORENCE tells a remarkable and harrowing chronicle of
murder, mutilation, suicide, and vengeance—with Preston and Spezi
caught in a bizarre prosecutorial vendetta.
Mario Spezi, a highly decorated journalist, has covered many of the
most important criminal cases in Italy, including those involving
terrorism and the Mafia, and has been investigating the Monster of
Florence case since its beginning. He has also published both fiction
and nonfiction books in Italy and several other countries.
From THE MONSTER OF FLORENCE
"We asked Natalino Mele what he remembered of the night of August
21, 1968, when his mother was murdered. The question set him off.
“I was six years old!” he cried. He had been so terrified he couldn’t
speak at all, until his carabinieri interrogators threatened to take
him back to his dead mother. As Natalino spoke of the merciless
questioning, his voice filled with anguish. “I told them I couldn’t
remember anything. Anything. Except one thing. There is one thing I
remembered!” He paused, drawing in breath. “I opened my eyes in that
car and I saw, in front of me, my mamma—dead. That’s the only thing I
remember of that night. And,” he said, his voice breaking, “that’s the
only memory I have of her now.”