Delayed Death (Temptation in Florence Book 1) (25 page)

"So make something up."

Carlina threw him a glance and programmed "Aaawful Commissario". Then she held it up for him to see. "Like that?"

He grinned. "Fine."

Carlina suppressed a smile. "So tell me your number."

He dictated it to her.

She saved it and lifted her head. "Anything else?"

"Yes." He got up and took something shiny from his jacket. "I've bought you a latch. From what I've seen, you're able to attach it yourself, aren't you?"

Her chin dropped. "You bought me a bar? To block my door?"

"Yes. And I want you to fix it right now."

"But Garini . . . " his last name slipped out before she could stop herself. "That's not necessary. I mean--"

"You blocked your door today," he said. "Don't tell me you did it because you wanted to sleep in peace."

She swallowed. "No. I didn't feel safe."

"Exactly." He nodded. "Now get a drill, will you? The bar will only serve its purpose if it's well fixed into the wall. I also brought the screws and screw anchors."

When she didn't move, he got up. "Shall I get it? Is it in the bathroom?" An ironic smile played around his mouth.

She jumped up. "No, it's not. I'll get the drill." She went to the kitchen and retrieved it from a drawer, looked at the screws he held out to her and chose a matching drill bit.

In silence, she got a pencil, marked the right spots on the wall and drilled the holes. Then she punched in the anchors, placed the latch in the right position, and tightened the screws. Garini's presence made her nervous, but she liked that he didn't offer to fix the bolt. Instead, he passed her whatever she needed without comment. It made her feel that he respected her independence, and because he did, she said, "Try to tighten the screws some more, please."

He nodded, took the automatic screwdriver from her hand, and tightened them.

Carlina swallowed. The fleeting touch of his fingers set something alight inside her. She took one step back and lifted her chin. "Tell me something, Garini."

He turned and looked at her. "What?"

"Why do you think this bolt is going to keep me safe if the preferred method of murder is poison?"

Garini didn't reply.

"Well?"

"It won't keep you safe," he said. "But it'll make me feel better."

The next morning, Carlina got up with a gloomy feeling, trying in vain to chase away the memory of her troubled dream. She had seen Ernesto and Uncle Teo in an unknown kitchen, bent over a hot stove with satisfied smirks on their faces. A copper saucepan filled with a green liquid had spewed hot bubbles. Carlina shook herself. Evil. How could such nasty suspicions fill her mind and filter into her dreams?

The sky was overcast, and a chilling wind came through the open window. She closed it with a shudder. What a day for a funeral. No wonder she had slept with nightmares.

When she had dressed all in black, she opened her fridge. A bit of yogurt looked at her in challenge. She had not finished it yesterday morning. What if--? Anybody could have had access to her apartment while she was away. Oh,
Madonna
. She picked up the yogurt with two fingers and smelled it. It smelled as always, a bit sour, milky. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation. She was hungry and could already taste the creamy yogurt combined with grains of sugar, melting on her tongue. But did she dare to? She remembered Garini's eyes, the way he had looked at her just before he had left. So maybe he had feelings after all.

A rattle at her door made her jump. Something pounded against the wood. "Carlina! Open up!" Her mother's voice.

Carlina pushed the yogurt back, shut the door of the fridge and ran to the door. "I'm coming!" She slid back the bolt and opened the door.

Her mother was dressed all in black, her hair pushed back from her face in a tight bun. "Are you ready for the funeral?"

Carlina nodded. "Almost. I still have to eat something."

"How can you eat at a time like this, just before we bury your grandfather?" Fabbiola pressed a handkerchief against her lips.

Great. Now she felt like an oaf. A frightened oaf. "Wait a minute." Carlina decided to take some biscotti which were still wrapped in their original packaging. She returned to the kitchen and got them from the cupboard, then she went to join her mother. "Are we leaving already?"

"Yes." Fabbiola pulled her jacket closer around her. "Marco offered to drive us. He's downstairs, drinking coffee with Benedetta."

On their way to the funeral, they were subdued. Angela and Marco sometimes exchanged a few comments, but Fabbiola and Carlina in the back didn't join in the conversation. Carlina tried to steel herself for the ordeal ahead. If only she didn't know that another funeral would follow soon. "You will have many funerals." Garini's words echoed through her. She closed her eyes.

When she got out of the car, the first person she saw was her ex-fiancé. She caught her breath. Giulio. Giulio Ludovico Eduardo Montassori. She hadn't seen him for years.

He came up to them and took Fabbiola's hand. "My deepest sympathy, Fabbiola."

Fabbiola blinked away a tear. "How kind of you to come, Giulio."

Carlina could tell she still regretted not having him as her son-in-law. Giulio turned to her and took hold of her hand. "I'm so sorry, Carlina."

"What are you doing here?" She didn't manage to make it sound friendly. "Where's your wife?"

Giulio frowned. He had aged. His hair had thinned, and a paunch showed above his belt, but his brown eyes hadn't lost their kindness. "Your grandfather was a friend of mine, surely you remember that? As he's dead, I only thought it natural to pay my respects."

Carlina suppressed a sigh. That was Giulio all over, accepting conventions and following them.

Fabbiola shot her daughter a look like a dagger. "That's very thoughtful, Giulio."

He offered her his arm, and together they went up the hill to the church.

Angela followed with Marco. She hung on his arm like a heavy shopping bag, tottering on her high heels.

Carlina crossed her arms in front of her chest. At least Giulio hadn't brought his wife. She probed her feelings. It had been a shock to meet him again, but it felt good to see how much he had aged.
What an uncharitable thought
. Maybe he had thought the same when he had seen her? She bit her lips. What else did she feel? Regret?

She frowned and slowly shook her head. No. No regret. None at all.

She smiled. Feeling much lighter, she went up to church with a determined step. As she came inside, the smell of incense combined with gloomy twilight covered her like a suffocating blanket.
I don't like churches.
The thought came out of nowhere. She felt shut in, cut off from fresh air.
If I ever get married, it'll be in the American way, in a garden, with sunlight and flowers all around.
Carlina followed her mother to the front, but when she saw Giulio sitting next to Fabbiola, she stopped dead. How dare he? He had nothing to do with the family! Without stopping to think, she slipped into the next pew to her left. She was not going to sit next to Giulio. No way. So busy was she with her angry thoughts that she missed the sermon and only caught the tail-end.

"Nicolò Alfredo Mantoni was a much beloved man, strong and wise. He was a true family patriarch, and everybody adored him."

Gag
. Who had instructed the priest? Alberta? It sounded just like the kind of drivel she would tell. Carlina crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back.
I'm not going to have a funeral service when I die. It's so fake. And it's torture.
Her throat tightened, her breathing became harsh, and she felt dizzy. She had to get out of here. She couldn't stand it anymore. She slid out of the pew and went to the door with bowed head, her steps as quick as she could make them without actually running. Thank God all heads were now bowed in prayer. She tried not to make a sound as she pulled open the heavy doors with her last ounce of strength and burst outside.

Thank God!

Light!

Fresh air! She bent forward, her hands on her knees, and took deep breaths. In-Out. In-Out. In-Out.

A hand fell on her shoulder. "Are you all right?" Garini's voice sounded free of emotion, as always.

Carlina straightened. "Yes." Maybe straightening as if an elastic had snapped wasn't a good idea. For an instant, everything went black, and she swayed. She smelled his leather jacket, the faint trace of aftershave, and opened her eyes. He held her arms in a vise-like grip, so she had to stand close to his chest.

Her eyes focused on the faint scar next to his mouth. "Where did you get that scar?" she asked.

"What did you eat this morning?" he answered.

"You know, you always appear out of thin air," she smiled. "Like an apparition. Funny habit, that."

"Yes, you said so before." He shook her, but gently. "What did you eat this morning?"

"Nothing." Carlina smiled. She had the impression of floating above the ground.

"Drink?"

"Coffee."

"On your own?"

"No." Carlina couldn't move, he held her so tight. "I shared a pot with the others before I left."

"Who were the others?" His light eyes scanned her face.

"Everybody. We all met in Benedetta's kitchen."

"Did anybody have a chance to place something into your cup?"

"You hurt me." She started to feel more down to earth and wondered if it was a good thing. The floating sensation of the last minutes had felt quite nice. Had he answered her question about the scar?

His grip loosened. "Carlina. Answer me."

She raised her eyes to his. "Nothing. I paid attention. Nothing in my cup."

He expelled a breath. "Good."

She smiled at him.
I think you could kiss me now.
The thought came out of nowhere. It shocked her out of her dream-like state, and she straightened her back.

His eyes narrowed. "Why did you feel faint?"

"I don't like churches," she said. "So dark and fake. Do you like churches?"

He didn't miss a beat. "No."

"The priest talked utter rubbish. I couldn't stand it anymore." She frowned. "I'm not a good Catholic."

He removed his hands. "It could be worse." His face softened. "You need to eat something."

She nodded and opened her handbag. "I've got some biscotti in my handbag."

"How providential." He took the package from her and examined it, then handed it back to her.

She opened it, and they shared a few biscotti.

The organ boomed out.

"The service is over," she said.

"Let's move to the side." He took her arm. "We can join the others from the side, then nobody will notice you left early."

They watched the coffin being carried outside. The bells overhead started to peal. They sounded too loud in the crisp air. Dark clouds scuttled over the top of the hill and obscured the sun. Today, Florence looked like a shivering chick down in the valley, waiting for the next downpour of rain.

Uncle Teo followed. He seemed to have shrunk. Carlina's heart filled with pity. She took a step forward to join him, but before she could do so, his eldest son and one daughter, having come from out of town for the funeral, appeared from behind and supported him, one on each arm.

"Who are they?" Garini asked.

"Cousins," Carlina answered.

"I guessed as much." Garini said.

Carlina chuckled. It felt strange to chuckle at such a moment, but it made her feel better. "They're Uncle Teo's children. Rinaldo and Gina. They both work in Milano."

Others followed, in groups, silent, mournful. Emma, looking sexier than ever in a tight black dress, leaning on Lucio's arm. Annalisa and Ernesto, their hair like flames above the black clothes. The bells continued to peal. They made Carlina think of war, of chances lost, of grim reality.

Next came Fabbiola, still leaning on the arm of Giulio. "I don't believe this," Carlina said under her breath.

Garini's sharp gaze was on her. "What?"

"The guy next to my mother is my ex-fiancé. He came here as if he was invited and now pretends to be a chief mourner."

"Did he know your grandfather?"

"Yes, but not well. He claims he was a friend of grandpa, that's why he came to pay his respects." She imitated Giulio's voice with scorn.

"Do you see him often?"

"Never."

"Does it--"

A voice from behind interrupted them. "Here you are, Carlina."

They both turned around.

"Hi, Enzo." She nodded at the Commissario. "Meet my brother, Enzo Ashley. He lives in Pisa." Enzo stretched out his hand. "Enzo, this is Chief Commissario Stefano Garini from the homicide department."

"Oh, you're the Chief Commissario," Enzo shook Garini's hand with delight. "I thought you were a friend."

"Enzo has a reputation for always finding the right word for every occasion." Carlina glared at her brother.

"So I notice," Garini said.

She was glad to hear amusement in Garini's voice.

Enzo looked from one to the other. "What have I said?"

"Nothing." Carlina took his arm. "Let's follow the others."