temptation in florence 04 - expected in death (17 page)

He nodded again. “That's right.”

“But . . . are you . . . are you a craftsman?” Carlina had no idea that he even worked. She'd assumed his job was being a full-time son.

“Yes. I'm a pastry chef.”

Carlina blinked. “A pastry chef?” It boggled the mind.

“Yes. A confectioner, you know?” He smiled, relaxing for the first time. “I laughed about it with Francesca. She makes flowers out of glass, and I make them out of marzipan.”

“Right.” Carlina swallowed. It all sounded so harmless, but she had seen him in action, had seen him lunging across the table, trying to throttle her mother.
I have to find out more about him.
Francesca might be in danger. Maybe, if she loosened him up a bit, he would talk, would let slip something, something that would help Garini to finish the investigation. She checked her watch. Almost time for lunch . . . Before she could change her mind, she heard herself say, “Would you like to join me for a short lunch just across the street at
La Piccola Trattoria
?” She knew the young waiter, Enrique, well. If Ugo should become difficult, she could count on Enrique to help her.

Ugo stiffened and colored again. “Em.”

Em seems to be his favorite word.
Carlina smiled at him with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

Ugo looked at her, meeting her gaze fully for the first time.

All at once, he seemed different, more sure of himself, determined and even sort of – ruthless. Yes, that was the word she was looking for. Carlina's throat turned dry.
Maybe asking him for lunch was a bad idea.

“Why not?” he said, very slowly.

It sounded as if he had a lot more on his mind than lunch. Carlina forced herself to nod.
It's just across the street. No harm possible. Enrique will be there.

But when they took their places inside the
trattoria
, a dry little stick of a man appeared and handed them the menus. He was about the size of Ugo's thigh.

“Where's Enrique?” Carlina hoped her voice didn't sound panicky.

“He's on vacation.” The waiter said without interest. “What do you want to eat?”

Carlina ordered
spaghetti alle vongole
. Maybe the sharp-edged shells of the mussels would provide some sort of weapon if things got rough.

Ugo took
spaghetti all'arrabbiata
and asked the waiter to make the dish extra hot. Then he turned to Carlina, and all at once, she felt that she was the one who was put on the spot, rather than the other way around. To avoid being asked a question she might not want to answer, she plunged ahead with the first thing that came to her mind. “I'm sorry about the death of your mother.”

His face didn't register any emotion. “Really? But you didn't like her.”

Carlina was taken aback, then she decided to respond with just as much honesty. “That's true. But I'm sorry for you. She was your mother.”

“Yes.” He stared into the distance, his face unreadable. “My mother.”

Carlina tried to read him, tried to understand his emotions, but she couldn't get behind the immobility of his flat face. “You must miss her.”

He scratched his head. “Yes. And no. She wasn't always easy.”

That's the understatement of the year.
Carlina nodded and decided that a subtle approach would be wasted here. “Did you often fight with her?”

Ugo reared back. “I--” He broke off and frowned. “I wanted to ask you about Francesca. She told you about me, you said?”

Carlina suppressed a sigh. He had obviously decided to close the subject on his mother. What a shame. Maybe, if she offered him some answers in return, she could lead the topic back to the subject. “Yes, she did, but she only told me the bare facts. She--”

“There you are!” Garini appeared out of nowhere and bent forward to give Carlina a quick kiss on the cheek.

Carlina gasped in surprise. “Stefano! Where have you come from?”

He put his hand on her shoulder and pressed it harder than necessary. “I was just in the area and decided to look in on you. When I found the “closed” sign on Temptation, I looked around and saw you two through the window.” A tiny pulse beat at his temple. “Have you already ordered? I'll join you.” He pulled up a chair and dropped onto it with nonchalance.

Carlina wasn't fooled by his relaxed manner.
He's angry with me.

Ugo lowered his eyebrows and sent a look of pure hatred to Garini. “I'm not going to have lunch with you. You should find my mother's killer, not sit around and eat as if there's nothing more important in the world.” He got up so quickly that his chair fell over with a crash and stormed out of the restaurant.

“There!” Carlina turned to Stefano. “See what you did! He was beginning to thaw a bit, and now you--”

Stefano's face was white. “Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Carlina?” His voice was low but vibrated with suppressed fury. “I only told you half an hour ago that Ugo might be his mother's killer! And you turn around and have lunch with him. Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“He came to see me at Temptation!” Carlina could feel her cheeks heating up. “Imagine, he's Francesca's boyfriend! She said she had a new boyfriend, but I would never have guessed that it was him, and when Ugo told me, I simply had to find out more. She might be in danger. In fact,--”

“Now listen, my girl.” Garini interrupted her. “You're the one who might be in danger, lunching with someone who can crack you into two by just taking you between his thumbs. Haven't you considered that?”

“Of course I have!” Carlina balled her fists. “But we're here in full view of everybody, where everyone knows me. Nothing could happen to me here.”

“Yeah. Nothing at all.” Garini shook his head. “You're crazy. And I forbid you to go around town poking your nose into stuff that doesn't concern you!”

“But it does concern me!” Carlina's voice filled the
trattoria.
“My mother is in prison because you arrested her! I can't sit around and wait for some sort of God to put things right again.”

“Not some sort of God.” His lips were white. “But you might have a bit of confidence in me. I told you I wouldn't let it go.”

“Yes, you told me so. But you know that I can do things that would be impossible for you! Look how far we got as soon as you appeared! He jumped up and ran away when I was just getting to know him. You came at the most mistimed moment!”

Garini narrowed his eyes. “I did, did I?”

“Yes.” Carlina glared at him. “And I would have learned a lot more if you hadn't shown up playing protecting angel or something. It wasn't necessary at all!”

Garini got up. “This is a murder investigation, Carlina, not some sort of game. It's dangerous, and I order you to keep out of it.”

Her chest swelled. “You can't order me to do anything at all! Don't be such a macho! Just accept my help and acknowledge that I can learn much more than you can because I'm not in any official capacity.”

“Pah!” Garini clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw bulged. “Everyone knows we're a couple. Just how far do you think you will get? No, my girl, get this into your head: You're not helping at all by meddling in my investigation. Instead, you're endangering yourself. So stop it now.”

“The
spaghetti all'arrabbiata
.” The waiter slammed a steaming plate onto the table, then looked around. “Where's the other guy?”

Carlina jumped up. “He left. And I'm leaving, too.” She grabbed her handbag and hurried outside.
Stefano the superhero can deal with both meals.

II

“
Commissario
Garini?”

“Yes?” Garini didn't recognize the voice and wished he had asked the receptionist Gloria to repeat the name. He had too much to do and no time for useless chats. But the discussion with Carlina still hurt, and he had a hard time concentrating on work. Of course it was terrible that he had been forced to arrest her mother, but couldn't she place a little bit more confidence in him?

“My name is Frani,” the caller said on the phone. “I'm the psychologist at
Sollicciano
and in charge of the prisoners here.” The clipped tone spoke volumes about the man's attitude.

Garini cringed in anticipation of Frani's next words. “Is everything all right?”

“No,
Commissario
, nothing is right, nothing at all.” Frani's voice sounded grim. “Ever since you brought Fabbiola Mantoni-Ashley to us, this prison is not what it used to be.”

“What happened?” Garini heard his own voice coming out sharper than he'd wanted.

“Nothing much,
Commissario
, if you don't count the fact that
Signora
Mantoni-Ashley asked with vehemence to be allowed to knit.”

“You can't let her knit,” Garini interrupted. “That's too dangerous. The victim was found with a knitting needle inside her.”

“I'm aware of that,
Commissario
.” Frani's said with acidity. “Because I do read the files that tell me about my inmates, but when the matter was explained to her, she said she had to occupy herself somehow. However, when we suggested several activities, she refused them all, saying it was all too boring. Instead, she organized a prison a cappella choir.”

Garini blinked. “A what?”

“A choir that sings without instruments. Because they aren't allowed to have instruments, she chose this style of music.” Frani's voice was dry. “She has now organized the inmates according to pitches and is busy composing songs.”

Stefano shook his head. He had not expected that. “It could be worse,” he said with relief. “I mean, singing isn't a bad occupation, is it?”

“It all depends,” Frani said, “because Mrs. Mantoni-Ashley has taken existing melodies from popular songs and changed the texts in a way that would make you feel very uncomfortable if you could hear them.”

“Oh.” Garini swallowed. Having a probable mother-in-law in prison was bad enough. Having her compose songs that defamed the police was even worse.

“I just thought I'd let you know. She's training them now – four-part harmonies.”

“I didn't know she could sing.”

“She can't.” Frani's voice was dry. “At the moment, a hooker and a drug dealer are competing for the soloist parts. I'll thank you to take her off my hands before they ask for a public performance.”

“I'm doing all I can.” Garini finished the conversation with an ugly feeling deep inside his gut. The flooding of his apartment, the fight with Carlina, and the arrest of Fabbiola against his instincts – it all worked together to make him miserable. When the phone rang again, and he recognized Uncle Teo's number, he groaned. Probably the patriarch of the family was going to throw in his weight to make sure that he released Fabbiola immediately. If only he could do so.

He suppressed the impulse to let the phone ring and answered with something of a snarl. “I'm truly sorry about the situation, but I can't release Fabbiola. I promise I'm doing all I can to collect enough evidence to clear her, but I can't work miracles.”

“I'm sure you'll soon find a solution, my boy,” Uncle Teo's soft voice took the wind out of his sails. “And I can imagine how difficult life is at the moment. Is Carlina giving you hell?”

“No. I mean--, yes.” Garini found it difficult to deal with this sudden understanding when he'd prepared himself to encounter fierce opposition. Really, the Mantoni family was completely unpredictable.

Uncle Teo sighed. “I have faith in you, Stefano. You'll get her out. Besides, she might be safer in prison than at home.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, obviously, the murderer wants Fabbiola to be the culprit. If she had not been arrested, maybe the murderer would take other steps to get her out of the way.”

Garini led out his breath slowly. He had not considered that. In his shame and haste to uncover more clues, he had not stopped to think clearly. Madonna, he really had to get a grip and stop being blinded by emotions. “Would you tell Carlina about this possibility?” he asked. “I'd appreciate that.”

“Sure.” Uncle Teo said. “But I'm calling for another reason. I know that you're very busy trying to find clues and that you don't have time to go house hunting. I may have an apartment for you and Carlina.”

Garini suddenly realized what Uncle Teo was doing. He wasn't giving him hell like the other members of the family. He was putting a carrot in front of his nose. “Do I understand that you're offering the apartment on the condition that I get Fabbiola out of prison?”

Uncle Teo gave a dry cough. “I wouldn't quite phrase it like that. But in case you don't get her out, the proximity to the Mantoni family might become difficult.”

Garini sucked in his breath. How delicately Uncle Teo had phrased this. Putting it bluntly, he could forget Carlina if he didn't find Olga's killer. He had deluded himself into thinking that his job wouldn't interfere with their relationship, had even closed his eyes to the tension Fabbiola's arrest had created, but of course, the old man was right. Under no circumstances could Carlina continue to share her life with the man who was responsible for putting Fabbiola behind bars. It felt as if the ground opened up in front of him. “I see.” His throat hurt.

“Think about it,” Uncle Teo said, “and when you've got a free minute, I'll take you to see the apartment. I think it would be a solution to all the problems you face.”

“All right. Thanks. I'll be in touch.” Garini hung up and put his head into his hands.
The solution to all my problems. Yeah, sure.

He sighed and turned back to the reports he had been reading when the psychologist from
Sollicciano
had called. More than two hundred tourists and at least fifty percent of the inhabitants of Florence had seen suspicious people at the crucial time on Monday at the San Niccolò Tower. A dangerous looking Arab armed with a machine gun, a hunchback with a sinister look, an innocent looking boy with a whip, a tall woman with a fur coat and high heels but pajamas underneath, a giant with white hair, and a man with tattoos all over his face were some of the more fantastic sightings. Garini sighed again and pushed the files to the side.
What utter crap.