Delayed Death (Temptation in Florence Book 1) (15 page)

Stefano frowned at the report from the lab. It confirmed that the carafe had contained the morphine. A tiny trace had been found on one side, even though someone had taken pains to wash it. Not a single fingerprint showed on the smooth glass.
Of course not.

Stefano bit his lip.
This case has too many dead ends, and time is running out.
Talking about which, Piedro seemed to have done another vanishing act.
I'd better track him down.

He picked up the receiver and called his subordinate. When Piedro finally replied, he didn't waste time with preliminaries. "Where are you, Piedro?" Stefano leaned back in his chair and looked out of the window. The sunlight streamed through the dusty window panes.

"I'm on my way back from the solicitor." Piedro said.

"Good. What did he say?"

Piedro hesitated. "He used many complicated words."

Garini suppressed a sigh.
I shouldn't have sent him.
"If you don't understand something, you have to ask."

"That's what I did." Piedro sounded hurt. "And he explained it again. It was very simple. I don't know why he first made it so difficult, when it wasn't."

Stefano grinned. "That's because they use their own language."

"What?" Piedro sounded confused. "He spoke Italian. At least, I think it was Italian most of the time."

Garini forced himself to keep the impatience from his voice. "Just tell me the result, Piedro."

"Wait. I've written it down, so I wouldn't mix it up." A rustling of paper came through the receiver, then Piedro started to read. "Nicolò Alfredo Mantoni had a savings account. First, the costs for the funeral and a donation of five thousand Euros to the Uffizi Museum Trust has to be deducted from that account. The rest will be divided into seven equal parts and will be given to each offspring." Piedro took a deep breath.

"Did they tell you how much money was in the savings account?"

"No." Piedro sneezed. "But they said each beneficiary," he stumbled on the word, "will receive roughly one thousand and three hundred Euros. It depends on the costs of the funeral, you see."

"Did he have any property?"

"I asked about that." Piedro sounded pleased. "He doesn't. The house on Via delle Pinzochere belongs only to Teodoro Mantoni."

Damn. No motive there.
Garini sighed.
You don't kill for one thousand Euros unless you're desperate. Another dead end.

"Shall I come to the office now?" Piedro sounded eager to return.

"No. We discussed it this morning. Please go to the Civil State Office now, to get the death certificate for Benedetta's husband."

"Oh, right. I forgot."

"When you've done that, go to the hospital where he died and try to find out if the doctor who signed the certificate still works there. Don't question him, just find out if he's still there. Also, find out if he's the doctor who treated him and knew his case. Got that?"

Piedro sighed. "Yes."

"And talking about doctors, call the Mantoni family doctor and ask him if he was too ill to work the weekend of the murder."

"All right."

"Did you note everything?"

"I won't forget." Piedro sounded defensive now.

I wonder.

The Commissario rolled his motorbike to a stop. He glanced at the Mantoni house, grateful no one was out front to notice his visit to their neighbor. It would save a lot of explaining later.

"
Buongiorno
, Stefano!" Electra opened her door wide. Today, she was shrouded from head to toe in a turquoise garment covered with sequins. They glittered in the light.

"
Buongiorno
, Electra." Stefano smiled. "Do you have a minute for me?"

"But of course!" Electra waved him in and shut the door.

Stefano advanced into the dim room and almost fell over a black cat. "Gosh, sorry."

"Never mind." Electra went down the hall. "She's like lightning, always between my feet. I keep tripping over her all the time."

"Hmm." Stefano looked at the cat. "Did you ever try her food?"

Electra turned around and stared at him. "What?"

"I've heard dry cat food tastes nice. Sort of crunchy."

Electra shook her head. "Tsk, tsk. The people you have to associate with when you're a police man . . . I pity you. It's hard to imagine what strange things people eat. Disgusting." She gave him a brilliant smile. "Would you like some chamomile-peppermint tea?"

"No, thanks." Stefano hastened to decline the offer. "I've just had some coffee."

"Then take a seat in the living room. I'll get myself a cup and will join you in a minute."

"I'd rather be with you in the kitchen." The kitchen didn't have a window that could be seen from the Mantoni house.

"Oh, all right." Electra turned and led the way to the kitchen. Her dress billowed out like a turquoise cloud. She filled a kettle with water and put it onto the stove. "Now tell me. You didn't come to talk to me about cat food, did you?"

"No." Stefano leaned against the kitchen table. "I've come to ask you about your love life some thirty years ago."

Electra exploded with laughter. "Ha, this is right. My love life, thirty years ago! Who tells you my memory goes back that long?"

He smiled. "I hope it does. It's about Teodoro Mantoni."

She stopped mid-laugh and shot him a sharp glance. "Oh." She swallowed. "I see."

"Will you tell me about it?"

Electra turned her back to him and busied herself with her tea pot. "What do you want to know?"

"Did you have an affair with him in the first year of his marriage?"

She didn't reply.

"Electra?"

"Who says so?" Her voice sounded flat.

"Maria."

She whipped around, her eyes huge. "She knows?"

He didn't take his gaze off her for one moment. "She says she always knew."

"So that's why . . ." Her voice petered out. She stared into space.

He bent forward. "What?"

Electra pressed her lips together. "Maria is a devoted Catholic."

"I know that."

"She . . . she had some funny notions about the sex life of a good Catholic."

"Like you should only have sex if you want to create a child?"

Electra gave him a sharp glance. "You know that, don't you?"

"I do, even if I'm not a good Catholic."

Electra smiled. "Well, it was hard for Teodoro." She took a deep breath. "I'm still ashamed about it. At the time, I wasn't strong enough to resist."

"Why did it end?"

She lifted both hands. "One day, Teodoro came and told me it had to stop. He said Maria had changed, things were better. Then they had all those kids, so I figured they were fine."

"Did you remain friends?"

"Oh, no." Electra shook her head. "He avoids me whenever he can. At first, I wanted to move away, but then . . . you have to live with your mistakes, you see."

Stefano took a deep breath.
One thing cleared up. But is a thirty-year-old love affair enough motive for murder? I don't think so.
He shook his head and got up. "Thank you very much."

Electra gave him a sharp glance. "You won't talk about it, will you?"

"Not unless I have to due to the investigation."

Electra rolled her eyes. "Of course."

When Carlina arrived at Temptation, Elena was deep in discussion with a female customer dressed in designer clothes from top to toe. Carlina waved at her assistant and took a seat at the computer. Contrary to most shop owners, she had placed her tiny office right at the cash register which was next to the door. That not only forced her to be well organized but it allowed her to get on with her work even if she was alone in the store. She could also see the street from her high bar stool in front of the computer and wave at acquaintances. The day was warm, so she had opened the glass door wide to catch the fresh air.
I love autumn. Not too hot, not too cold, and everything so warm, so intense, so rich.
Usually, it made her feel happy just to sit here, in the center of her universe, knowing she had things under control.

However, today was different. She tried to concentrate on her work and put together the order for the next season, but her mind kept drifting. How could she think of lace and pearls if her very being was questioned? She had always been a father's girl. The link to him was strong, and the thought that he might not have been her natural father left her feeling loose, as if her mooring had snapped off, and now she was floating, not knowing where she came from or where she belonged. She lifted her shoulders in a rolling motion to ease the tension. "It's all nonsense," she said under her breath and pushed the catalog away. Without making a conscious decision, she turned to her computer. Her fingers clicked onto Google and entered the words 'genetic eye color'. Seconds later, she was deep inside an article.

She didn't even hear the customer say good-bye as she left the store, but Elena got her attention by poking her in the ribs. "Is it true what people say?"

Carlina tore herself away from the article. "What?"

"Your grandfather was killed?" Elena's eyes, outlined with black eyeliner, widened.

Carlina hurried to close the article, so the screen wouldn't give her away. "Yes."

"They say he was stabbed, and the blood-stained knife was found in your apartment." Elena lifted both hands, heavy with massive silver rings.

"What?" Carlina blinked. "Who said that?"

"Signora Barberini.”

“Signora Barberini?” Carlina shook her head. She knew that her formidable landlady liked to gossip, but she couldn't imagine her spreading such wild tales.

“Yep.” Elena nodded. “She came this morning in full-battleship mode and--"

All at once, Carlina didn't want to hear another word. "Signora Barberini had better stop thinking up crazy stories." Carlina jumped up. "It's all nonsense. As far as we know, my grandfather was poisoned."

"Oh," Elena's shook her blond-dyed head. "No knife?"

"No." Carlina went to the window. "I really don't want to talk about the murder anymore. Let's talk about something else. How was your weekend?" She knew it wasn't an elegant change of topic, but she couldn't think of anything better to say. Besides, Elena loved to talk about her private life. Carlina lifted the mannequin and moved it to the side. It was time to finally put on those brown nylons.

Her assistant regarded her for an instant, then she shrugged and went to the storage room. "My weekend was great," she said. "We went to the Rio Grande. Have you ever been there?"

"No." Carlina opened the package that contained the nylons and pulled the hosiery out of their plastic bag with care.
How silky they feel.

"It's the biggest disco I've ever been to. They have four dancing floors."

Carlina could tell by the sound of the cutter sliding through cardboard that Elena had started to open the box from the last delivery which was standing in the small storage room. "Wow," Carlina said. "Where is the Rio Grande?"

"It's right next to the Ippodromo, on--" Elena stopped with a shriek.

Carlina dropped the nylons and ran to the back of the store. "What's up?"

Elena bent over the box. Her trousers were cut so low that Carlina could see her thong on her hips. Above the thong, two curlicued tattoos decorated Elena's midriff.

"What. Is. This?" Elena lifted a skin-colored bra, padded like a saddle, large enough to wrap three times around her slim body. "Don't tell me you ordered this. There must be some mistake."

Carlina wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans. "God, you gave me a fright. First the murder, and now your scream . . ."

Elena turned around in slow motion. "You ordered this . . . this atrocity?" The ring in her nose quivered.

Carlina nodded. "It's for Signora Barberini."

"Signora Barberini? So that's why she came this morning! But since when is she our customer?"

Carlina grinned. "Since she came through this door and told me that her old retail store had been replaced by a supermarket chain and that she has no clue where to buy her bras in the future."

"Her bras . . ." Elena lifted the garment and wrinkled her nose. "Her suit of armor, you mean."

It sure looked like one in front of Elena's skinny frame and pink t-shirt. Carlina grinned. "Mrs. Barberini likes them, that's what counts."

Elena dropped the bra and poked around the box. Then she twisted her head so she could look at Carlina's face. "But you bought a whole box!"

"I know." Carlina picked up the discarded bra, folded it, and placed it onto the shelf to her right. "It's a new supplier, and they wanted a minimum order quantity."

Elena's mouth dropped open. "What on earth are you going to do with them? There must be at least ten!"

"Twelve." Carlina bent over the box to count them. "Believe it or not, they're already sold. Every single one."

"No way."

"Yes. Ten, eleven, twelve. All there." Carlina straightened, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and leaned against the door frame of the storage room. "I told Mrs. Barberini we have to reach the minimum, and so she asked all her friends to place orders too." She grinned at her assistant.

Elena blinked. "I can't imagine her doing that."

"Oh, she gets a commission."

"What? Mrs. Barberini works as a sales rep?" Elena shook her head. "You must have bewitched her."

Carlina nodded and spread her arms. "That's me. The lingerie witch from Via Tornabuoni."

They both laughed.

Elena looked at the huge bra once again. "You know, I'm just wondering . . .” She frowned. “My mother might like one of those, too."

Carlina frowned. "But wouldn't she want something more comfortable in bed?"

Elena shook her head. "She keeps wearing those, insists on them, even if she doesn't get up all day."

"Does she still feel so bad? When I saw her last week, I thought she was getting better."

Elena sighed. "No. I even have the feeling she's secretly raising her morphine doses."

Carlina's mouth went dry. "Morphine?"

"Yes. I know for sure I bought enough to last all week, but she told me yesterday it was gone."

All at once, Carlina's legs felt too soft to bear her weight. "Elena."

"I think it's best if we place those bras on the shelf for commissioned goods, don't you agree?" Elena started to gather the boxes in her arms.

Carlina cleared her throat. "When did you buy the morphine for your mother?"

"What?" Elena looked up. "Tuesday. We went to the Andromeda Club, and I remember I went to the pharmacy before, so I--" she broke off. "Why do you look like death warmed over?"

Carlina felt sick. "I saw your mother on Thursday."

"Yeah, I know. Your mother came the same day, did you know that?"

"What?" The floor seemed to tilt beneath Carlina's feet.

"You must have missed each other by a few minutes."

"Elena, would you--" Carlina swallowed. "Do you think you could keep this to yourself until . . ."

"I've heard every word." The Commissario's voice came from right behind her.

Carlina screamed and spun around.

Elena dropped all the boxes.

"How dare you scare me like this?" Carlina wanted to slap his mocking face. "How dare you creep up and eavesdrop on us?" He seemed taller today, and more menacing than ever. His black leather jacket was open and revealed a white t-shirt that molded itself across his chest.

"I didn't creep up." Garini's face remained impassive as always. "I stood just in front of the door when your assistant screamed. Neither of you heard me coming in. Why don't you have a bell?"

"I don't need one. Usually. Don't tell me you tried to get our attention!" Carlina narrowed her eyes. "I wouldn't believe it."

His cool eyes assessed her. "I didn't."

"Who are you?" Elena stared at Garini.

"Commissario Stefano Garini from the Homicide Department."

Elena's gaze darted between Stefano and Carlina. "Are you . . . have you known each other for long?"

"Too long." Carlina replied before she could stop herself.

"May I know your name?" Garini looked at Elena.

"Elena Certini."

"Would you be willing to repeat the statements you've just made in front of a jury?"

Elena's eyes widened. “Why? What have I said?”

“You mentioned that a quantity of morphine has disappeared from your house, and that several people who are closely linked to the murder we're investigating had access to it.”

Elena looked at Carlina and lifted both hands palm up. Her face was a question.

"Of course she would." Carlina felt as if someone was pressing the air out of her throat.

"I haven't asked you." Garini said without inflection.

"Yes." Elena shrugged.

"Would you give me your mother's name and address?"

Elena stiffened. "My mother has nothing to do with this. She's ill, and you shouldn't bother her."

"
Signorina
Certini, I'm looking for a murderer. If the morphine was taken from your mother's house, we might get valuable clues from her."

Carlina sighed. "Give him the address, Elena. He'll find out anyway."

Elena swallowed. "But--"

Garini said, "I promise I won't bother her more than necessary."

"Oh, all right. I'll write it down for you." Elena went to the desk at the entrance of the store and got out a piece of paper.

Garini's gaze turned to Carlina and hardened. "I wish to take you to the police station."

Carlina's heart stopped beating for two painful moments. "Am I . . . are you arresting me?"

"No." Garini looked as if he would have preferred to say yes.

Her stomach clenched. "Do I have to come?"

His cool eyes assessed her. "No. Not until the prosecuting attorney gives me orders to bring you in."

His words had such a sinister ring that Carlina grabbed the shelf next to her.

"Here's my mother's address," Elena came back from the desk and gave Garini a piece of paper.

"Thank you." He turned back to Carlina. "Well,
Signorina
Ashley? Are you willing to cooperate with the police?"

Carlina clenched her teeth. "How long will I be gone?"

"I can't tell you. It depends."

She didn't dare to ask what it depended on and took a deep breath. "Elena, do you think you can manage on your own for some time?"

"Sure." Elena gave her a smile that was a curious mix of bravery and curiosity.

Wrong answer, girl.
Carlina forced a smile and followed Garini out of the store. She felt as if she was being led straight to execution.
Better me than Mama. I have to talk to her.

"Put on your helmet," he said. "I will take you up on my motorbike."

Carlina went to her Vespa and unlocked her helmet, then locked the Vespa again.

He lifted his eyebrows when he saw the helmet. "Does everything in your life have to be with a leopard print?"

"That's none of your business."

He didn't reply, instead, he led her to his black motorbike on the sidewalk.

"This is a no-parking-zone." Carlina said.

He mounted his bike and started the motor. "Get up behind me and hold on tight." It sounded as if he spoke through clenched teeth.

After her slim Vespa, his motorbike felt like a sofa. Carlina ducked behind his back and resisted the temptation to lean her head against him. He drove fast, and she was obliged to hold on tighter than she wanted. It felt too close, too intimate.
I should have insisted on a taxi.

Five minutes later, a narrow alley with several-storied houses on both sides multiplied the noise of the motor. Garini slowed down, took a sharp corner to the left, and stopped in a parking area filled with four black motorbikes and one police car. Carlina saw the black bars in the back of the car and averted her eyes.
I hope he didn't lie to me. What if he wants to arrest me? What will become of Temptation?

He dismounted and waited until she stood next to him, then he held out his hand. "Your helmet."