Delayed Death (Temptation in Florence Book 1) (22 page)

"Roberto, it's me, Stefano." Garini dodged a Vespa and hopped across a puddle. It had started to rain while he was at Signora Certini's. The street smelled of wet dust.

"Stefano! I thought you'd gone on vacation." Roberto's chuckle came through the phone. "Haven't seen you for ages."

Stefano sighed and crossed the Piazza della Repubblica with long steps. "We met some days ago at the pizzeria. Remember?"

"But that's what I mean," the pathologist said. "Normally, you call me every five minutes after a murder. What's happening this time?"

"I'm calling you now." Stefano hurried past the red-and-white merry-go-round. "Listen, is it possible that a certified doctor could have missed the signs of morphine poisoning on the body of Nicolò Mantoni?"

Roberto's answer came like a bullet out of a gun. "Not if he's a pathologist."

"He's a general practitioner, and a young one."

"Which university does he come from?"

Stefano frowned. "Does it matter?" He passed a little restaurant now, and a scent of roasted panini with molten cheese floated out. Stefano's stomach grumbled.

"Not really." Roberto's voice still sounded cheerful. "It's just nice to know that someone who's making an ass of himself isn't from my university."

"So are you saying it's possible or not?"

"Of course it's possible." Roberto's voice was light and happy. "'After all, the victim just falls asleep and you don't see why until you open him up. Still, the body was moved after the death. Even you noticed that."

"The young doctor said he only uncovered the torso."

Roberto clicked his tongue. "That's general practitioners for you. They're all the same. Superficial. Only used to the living, unable to read a body." He sounded disapproving, as if he was being forced to watch an apprentice mishandling a piece of art. "Never trust a general practitioner, I say. It's amazing, the things they miss. They wouldn't even notice if--"

"If a body rose up and bit them in the nose," Stefano supplied.

Roberto shouted with laughter. "Well said, Stefano! I didn't know you could be funny! Where did that come from?"

Stefano smiled. "Oh, go back to your bodies, Roberto. You've been no help at all."

"Thanks for the compliment!" Roberto hung up with a chuckle.

When Stefano reached his office, he looked up Angelo Soccio and arranged a meeting with him two hours later at the cafeteria of the Biblioteca delle Oblate. Then he found out the name of Annalisa's teacher and asked him for a meeting in three hours, sent an e-mail to Piedro with detailed instructions how to inquire into the background of Marco's university, and wrote a confidential letter to the bank where Alberta's son, the Dubai investor, was employed. He checked his watch. Forty minutes to go. Time enough to file a request to check the financial situation of Uncle Ugo who had such surprisingly good cameras. Then he had to commit every detail into his report. Just before leaving the office, he placed a copy of the report onto Signor Cervi's desk. It made him feel he had covered all the ground he could, but a nagging feeling that it was all useless persisted.

The cafeteria of the Biblioteca delle Oblate was situated on the top floor of the library and included a large terrace. When Garini went through the glass door that led outside, he stopped in surprise. He knew that the library was situated in a former convent, but nobody had told him that its terrace offered a magnificent view. Below, he could see into the atrium of the building, surrounded by two stories of graceful arcades that immediately made him picture nuns going to prayer. He turned his head. Beyond the red-tiled roofs of the neighboring houses the dome arose like a mirage. The sky had cleared up and now the sun was setting in soft pastel colors, tinting the red marble of the dome and the terracotta tiles in such intensive hues that it took his breath away. He smiled. The beauty of Florence made up for many ugly things he saw in his work.

Only a handful of people were scattered across the terrace, but from the corner of his eye, Garini noted a massive man who was looking as if he was expecting someone. Garini went up to him.

"Are you Angelo Soccio?" Stefano had trouble keeping the disbelief from his voice.

"I am." The man in front of him inclined his head. He was broad enough to hide three men, standing side-by-side, behind him. It was a wonder that the modern plastic chair in light green managed to support his weight.

"I'm Stefano Garini. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice." Stefano pulled out a chair and sat opposite the massive man. He had trouble imagining Angelo Soccio as a young man, as the boyfriend of Fabbiola Mantoni.

A group of boisterous students burst through the door and filled the cafeteria. It suited Stefano, as he knew it would be hard for anybody to overhear his conversation with Mr. Soccio.

Signor Soccio leaned forward. "You wish to talk to me about Fabbiola, you said?"

Garini nodded. "I'm investigating the murder of her father."

Again, Signor Soccio inclined his head. "I've heard about it."

Stefano hesitated. He didn't know how to put his question in a way that would make him get at the truth without deviations.

Signor Soccio winked. "Ask me anything you like, Commissario. I don't get bent out of shape easily."

I can believe that.
Garini smiled. "Thank you. My question is quite easy, even if a bit delicate."

"A delicate question, you say?" Soccio regarded Garini with a hint of amusement in his blue eyes.

"Yes." Garini took a deep breath.
I have to jump right in.
"Is it possible that Carlina, Fabbiola's eldest, is in reality your daughter instead of Paul Ashley's?"

Soccio's mouth fell open. His massive hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed again. He cleared his throat. "I have to congratulate you, Signor Garini. This is the first time in many years that someone has rendered me speechless."

Stefano laughed. "That wasn't my goal. Quite the contrary." He didn't take his eyes off the man in front of him. "The idea never crossed your mind?"

Soccio took a deep breath. "Never." He pulled out a white handkerchief and mopped his brow. "How on earth did you get that idea?"

"Her grandfather hinted at it before he died."

Soccia frowned. "He did? How strange. He never said a word to me."

"But it would be possible?"

Soccio frowned. "I was going out with Fabbiola for over a year, when the American came to work in Florence for the summer. He was the son of a friend of my boss, that's why he was invited to work with us as a trainee."

"You both worked as architects, didn't you?"

"Yes." Angelo looked into the distance.

Garini doubted that he saw the the beauty of the dome against the backdrop of rose-tinted sky. Soccio's mind was firmly rooted in the past.

"I took him with us one night, when we went dancing." He grimaced. "They took one glance at each other, and from then on--" He interrupted himself with a sigh. "It was as if I didn't exist anymore."

Garini didn't say anything.

"The American came later, to apologize. He said it was fate." A harsh laugh came from him. "Ha. Fate. What do they know about fate?" He shrugged. "Four weeks later, she followed him to America. Oh, I was angry. Very angry. I talked to her father; we all tried to talk her out of it. But she wouldn't listen."

"When was that?"

"September 14," Soccio said without hesitating.

Stefano swallowed. "Carlina was born in March."

"March, eh?" Soccio shook his head in disbelief. "You know, I can't believe she's mine. She never liked me."

"You got to know her after they came back?"

“Yes.” Soccio leaned his head to one side. "Maybe Fabbiola would have married me if Carlina hadn't made it clear she hated the idea. Fabbiola is a devoted mother. She always adored her kids."

"From what I gather, the feeling is mutual."
More's the pity.

Soccio made a wide move with his hands. "Oh, that's the Mantonis for you. The whole clan is like one giant ball of chewing gum. You have one, you have them all. You can't detach them from each other." He squinted at the Commissario. "It takes courage to marry into that clan. I had it once. Don't know about today."

"I see." Stefano regarded him for a moment. "But theoretically, Carlina could be your daughter, is that right?"

Soccio started to shake with silent laughter. "Theoretically, yes. But she would hate to know that." He looked at Stefano with misgiving. "We never told her that I was . . . an old friend. You won't share that, will you? I treasure my comfort, and that girl, she's quite a handful."

"I won't tell her," Stefano said, "unless I have no other choice."

VI

Annalisa's teacher was so tall, his hair brushed the door frame above him. He looked around the Café Duomo like a skinny rabbit expecting a wolf to jump out of the bushes.

Stefano got up and went to him. "Are you Giuseppe Auguri?"

The young man nodded. His short hair was bleached blond and his nose covered with pimples.

Stefano offered his hand. "I'm Commissario Garini of the homicide department."

Again, Signor Auguri cast an anxious glance around the café, but he took Stefano's hand and shook it without enthusiasm.

"Let's sit over there." Stefano indicated a small table to the left. He waited until the young man had taken a seat before he continued. "You taught Annalisa Santorini algebra and mathematics at school, is that correct?"

"Yes." His voice was low, almost a whisper.

Garini bent forward to hear him better.

A whiff of whiskey came from the young teacher.

"Was she a good pupil?"

"She was all right."

"What do you mean by all right? Could you be a little bit more specific?"

The young man cast a haunted look around the room. "I mean she was . . . all right. Not too bad."

Obviously, he had not done his masters in linguistics.
I wonder how he survives in class
. "But she finished her final exam with a top grade, didn't she?"

Auguri nodded.

"Weren't you surprised?"

The young man shook his head. It seemed he had given up on speaking altogether.

A waitress managed to fight her way through the overcrowded tables and stopped next to them. "
Signori?
What can I do for you?"

Couldn't she have come some minutes later?
"I'll have a
panino
with
prosciutto
, please." Garini said. "And a coffee."

"And you, Signor?"

Auguri pursed his lips.
"Un Grappa, per favore."

She nodded and whisked away.

Garini bent forward. "Why not?"

"Huh?" Pale-blue eyes stared at him.

"Why weren't you surprised?" Stefano found he was speaking more slowly than normal. "'Wasn't it unusual for Annalisa to be brilliant in mathematics?"

"Uh."

Stefano clenched his teeth. If Auguri made another nonsensical sound, he was going to strangle him. An owl was more eloquent than this species. He tried a different approach. "Did you ever suspect foul play when Annalisa finished with a top mark?"

Auguri shook his head.

"Why not?" Stefano shot out the question.
I want to shake him
.

The teacher made a vague move with his hands. "Nerves."

"Nerves?" Garini blinked. "Can you explain this to me? In a whole sentence, please?"

The young man pushed a hand through his bleached hair. He opened his mouth and closed it again, then opened it again like a fish desperate for air. "Sometimes nerves can bring you to unexpected heights."

I am reaching unexpected heights right now.
Garini pressed his lips together.
Unexpected heights of rage.
"That was how you explained it? Nerves?"

"Uh."

The waitress appeared out of nowhere and dropped their dishes on the table. "Here you are." She disappeared again before they could reply.

Auguri lifted his glass, opened his mouth wide, and downed the Grappa with one experienced twist of his wrist. He didn't meet Garini's gaze.

Garini wolfed down his sandwich without taking his gaze off the young teacher.
I can't believe Annalisa would ever start an affair with him. How on earth did Nico come up with that story?
He took a deep breath. Nothing for it, he had to try the brutal approach. "Did you have an affair with Annalisa Santorini?"

The young man's face exploded into an intense lilac hue. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

That's it. I've done it. He's blown a fuse; he'll never speak another word for the rest of his life
. Garini curbed his impatience. "I'm sorry I have to ask you, but I need to know. If it has nothing to do with the case, I'll never mention it anywhere."

Auguri sat like a rabbit frozen with fear, his eyes fixed on Garini as if pleading not to bite him too hard.

"Did you?"

Auguri shook his head. "Uh-u."

Aha. Uh-u seemed to mean no. They were getting somewhere with their owl-talk. "No?"

"Uh."

Garini clenched his teeth. "I need a clear answer, Signor Auguri. Can you please tell me the truth in one sentence? If you don't answer me, we might sit here until midnight."

That got him. Auguri opened his mouth like a fish in panic. "I didn't have an affair with Annalisa!"

"All right." Garini got up and slapped some money on the table to cover the bill. "Thank you for your time, Signor Auguri."

He left the café with rage boiling inside him. Another evening wasted. Another dead end.
Damn.