Delayed Death (Temptation in Florence Book 1) (32 page)

"Ciao Stefano," Gloria, the receptionist, purred into his ear.

Stefano suppressed a sigh. "Is it urgent, Gloria? I'm busy."

"I don't know if it's urgent," Gloria drew out the words. "But Piedro called. You've given him some kind of research job, and he said he'd found something, or rather, he didn't find something that should have been there, and you should call him back. He didn't sound excited, so I've no clue how important it is."

How typical of Piedro to leave such a muddled message. "Thanks, Gloria. I'll call him later."

"I had a hard time reaching you, Stefano. Where have you been all this time? A woman tried to call you yesterday. She was rude, hung up before I could talk to her."

"Caroline Ashley?"

"Maybe. Sounded stuck-up."

She was scared to death.
"Never mind. If she should try to call me again, put her through, no matter what."

Gloria tittered. "No matter what? Oh, my, this sounds so serious, Stefano."

"It is." He hung up before she could reply.

Two minutes later, the door opened on squeaking hinges, and Gloria peeked in.

Stefano clenched his teeth and glared at her. "What?"

She looked hurt. "There's an express delivery from the U.S. for you. I thought you might need it."

He felt bad about showing his impatience and held out his hand for the envelope. "Sorry I snapped at you. Things are difficult right now."

"I know." She gave him the envelope, but instead of returning to the door, she lingered. "Stefano?"

He curbed his impatience, even tried a smile. "Yes?"

"When this case is over, I'd like to invite you to dinner."

She bent forward, revealing her attractive cleavage. He didn't see it. Instead, he saw a bra with leopard fur, the gentle curve of a firm breast, a white shoulder, a spattering of freckles on a smooth cheek, cat's eyes. God, it had taken all his self-control to act as if he was blind.
I hope Carlina is safe.
An uneasy feeling lingered in the back of his mind. He had overlooked something. Somewhere, he had missed a clue and--

"Stefano?"

He blinked. "Sorry, Gloria."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Sure." He slid the envelope open with his fingernail.

Gloria muttered something and left the room.

He stared at the note in his hand. "Dear Mr. Garini," it read. "You were looking for information about the architect Paul Ashley. We have found a video tape with a speech he held at the Chamber of Commerce in 1978. Sorry it took so long, but we first had to transfer it to a modern medium. We hope it'll help with your investigation. Best regards, Morgan Waller, Seattle Homicide Department."

Stefano slid the CD into his computer and waited with bated breath for the speech to begin. At first, Carlina's father was only a shadow, half-hidden behind a speaker's lectern. The light came from behind him, and in the glare, nothing but his outline was visible. Stefano felt a pang of disappointment. What kind of loser had taken that film? Someone who had never mastered the basics of creating a video, that much was sure. What rotten luck. With mounting impatience, he watched the speech progress and was about to switch off the CD, when the camera man moved to the side. A pillar blocked out the glaring light and all of a sudden, Paul Ashley appeared as a man, not as a cardboard figure anymore.

Stefano sucked in his breath with one sharp gasp. It was Carlina, cast into a male mold. The shape of her eyes, her smile, the way her hairline curved over her brow . . . heck, even the way she moved her hands . . . it was all in front of him. He opened his drawer and took out the picture of her father. It held only a fraction of the truth. The likeness had never come across.

He felt a surge of relief, then realized with a sinking heart it didn't help him at all. If Fabbiola wasn't sure who the father of her eldest daughter was, she might well have been rattled enough to protect her daughter's happiness. She knew how important the father was to Carlina.
Damn, damn, damn.
Worst of all, he knew Fabbiola had indeed been insecure, otherwise, she would never have lied about her husband's eye-color. She must have been blind not to have seen the likeness between father and daughter. Or maybe it had only developed later, as Carlina had grown up. At thirteen, she might have looked different.

Besides, Lilly had said it was a man, not a woman. Or so Carlina had told him. What could he believe? He had to talk to Lilly. Stefano grabbed the receiver and asked the psychologist to join him at Lilly's school. Thank God she had time. As he got up, he remembered Piedro's call. It could wait. He wasn't in the mood for Piedro's slow intellect this morning. Then again, maybe he had found something.
Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.
He dialed Piedro's number.

"Piedro, it's me. Keep it short; I'm in a hurry. You said you've found something?"

"Yes." Piedro sounded insecure. "That is, I haven't found something, and I think it's odd. Or maybe it isn't. At least, I've been thinking about it for a while, and I think you should know about it, because I think that you'll think it might be important."

Garini rolled his eyes. "Just tell me."

"Well. You know you told me to research the diploma."

"The diploma?"
It was a mistake to call Piedro. I should have known better.

"Yes. The one from the doctor."

"You mean Marco Canderini?"

"Yes." Piedro sounded triumphant now.

Is it because I have guessed the name or because of his news?
"Go on."

"Well, the thing is, I looked everywhere, the way you told me.”

Stefano clenched his teeth.
Be patient.

"And I didn't find a diploma for Marco Canderini anywhere. I mean, I found one, but it was issued in 1953, and I think that's not him because he would be older now, wouldn't he?"

Garini frowned. "He would. And you looked everywhere, you said? All of Italy, not only in Tuscany? I believe he's from Rome."

"Everywhere," Piedro said. "It took ages."

Marco? Garini's mind raced. What if Nico had told Marco he had falsified his doctor's certificate, telling it as a joke, as one of his famous bad past stories? What if he had done so, for once, without an audience? It was a motive strong enough for murder. Marco's whole professional life depended on it, not to mention his private life. Angela wasn't the kind of wife who would stay married to a fraud.

Something clicked in Garini's mind. That would explain the willingness of the young doctor to sign the death certificate without comment even though he should have known better. He swallowed. What else had he missed?

The image of Elena Certini and her sick mother rose before his inner eye. What had she told him? The doctor had come on the very day the morphine went missing. But her doctor was Enrico Catalini, the same doctor who usually came to the Mantoni family. However, he had been ill the very next day. What if he had been ill the day before too? Hadn't he mentioned he had been ill a whole week?

Garini swallowed.
Oh, God, I have been blind
. Marco had stood in for his colleague, had taken the morphine from Signora Certini, had given it to Nico. A quick and clean execution, with one flaw only: Nico had manged to share the secret before his death. He had informed Maria Mantoni, and Lilly must have overheard. Then a casual remark had alerted Marco. He had killed off Maria, had tried to kill Lilly.
I have to talk to Lilly. Now.
"I have to go," he said.

"Do you need me?" Piedro sounded hopeful.

Garini hesitated. He had to haul in Marco to the police station, but he couldn't send Piedro on his own, and he first had to talk to Lilly. She held the key and could provide the proof he needed. "No. I need to interview a child, and I don't want to intimidate her with too many people. You stay here and take all messages for me. Anything that sounds in the least bit connected with the case, you call me. Got that?"

"Yes." Now Piedro sounded sullen.

Garini cut off the connection and ran to his motorbike. He had to get Carlina from Temptation, then drive straight to Lilly's school.
I hope to God the child will talk.

The door to Temptation stood open, but Fabbiola was nowhere to be seen. Carlina entered the store with a critical look. The delivery man had come, she could tell by the parcel behind the desk.
Good.
She frowned.
But where is Mama?

Then she heard voices behind the curtain that shut off the small storage room. She went closer . . . and froze.

"I don't want to do it," Marco's voice said. "But you haven't left me any choice, Fabbiola."

What?
Carlina inched closer.
He doesn't want to do what?

"Are you feeling quite well?" Fabbiola sounded concerned. "Why don't you sit down for a minute, Marco, and I'll--"

"I'm feeling perfectly well, thank you." Marco's voice sliced like a knife through the small storage room. Carlina could tell he was standing to her right, just behind the curtain. "I'm upset about doing this to you, but I don't have any choice."

What?
Carlina's hand grabbed the mannequin at her side to steady herself.

"I'm sure you've confused something," Fabbiola's voice was soothing as if he was a five-year-old with a lost lollipop. "I can't believe you ever harmed anybody. It would be against your conviction! You're a doctor. You save lives."

His laugh sounded harsh. "You know I'm not."

Carlina's mouth dropped open. Marco wasn't a doctor? Was that the secret?
Madonna
. Her hand crept up to her cheek. It was a secret worth killing for. His reputation, his life, even his marriage would be gone if it became public. Her mother had never mentioned this. Had she known it all along?

"I don't agree," Fabbiola said. “To me, you are a doctor.”

"I'm afraid few people would take such a liberal view of it, Fabbiola."

Fabbiola's voice became pleading. "Marco, don't do anything you'll regret. Think of Angela. We are your family."

Carlina blinked. Had her mother realized that Marco had already killed two people of "his family"?

Suddenly, Fabbiola's voice became shrill. "What's this?"

Carlina's surged forward. With one quick move of her left hand, she drew the curtain to the side and tightened her grip on the mannequin with her right. For a split second, she saw Marco, a gun in his hand, then she lifted the mannequin and brought it with a crash down on his hand. Pain shot through her injured shoulder, the gun exploded, Fabbiola shrieked, and bits of polystyrene foam from the mannequin flew everywhere.

Carlina hit Marco again.

The head of the mannequin fell off, then an arm.

The gun crashed to the floor.

"Grab the gun, Mama!" Carlina lifted her arm in spite of the sharp pain in her shoulder and brought the rump of the mannequin down on Marco's head.

The mannequin cracked in two with a loud plop.

In slow motion, Marco dropped to his knees.

Fabbiola stood frozen, the cushion pressed against her chest. The gun had skidded across the room and was now behind her, out of Carlina's reach.

"Get the gun!" Carlina wanted to shake her mother into action, but she didn't dare to take her eyes off Marco.

He seemed stunned, his eyes glazed over, his expression vacant.

Carlina tore a box from the shelf to her left, ripped it open, and twisted the strips of a bra around Marco's hands. Before he could collect his wits, she pulled a pair of nylons from the next shelf and bound his feet with a tight knot. Out of breath, she stepped back.

"Can I hand you another bra?" Stefano said from the counter. "The one you used looks a bit fragile."

Carlina turned to him, her lips trembling. "But it's a sports bra. Very robust." Then she burst into tears, surprising herself. She was so glad to see him.

Garini took her by the shoulders and pushed her to the side, gentle, but firm. He pulled out a pair of manacles, clasped them on Marco's hands and said. "I arrest you, Marco Canderini, for the murder of Nicolò Alfredo Mantoni and Maria Mantoni, also for the attempted murder of Lilly Lombardi. You have the right to remain silent."

Marco stared at him as if the words didn't register.

"You've battered him into speechlessness, my dear," Garini said. "Unfortunately, I came too late to watch the show." He glanced at the broken arm of the mannequin in front of his feet and grinned. "But I gather from the debris that it was quite impressive. Accept my congratulations."

Carlina managed a watery smile. She hunted for a handkerchief in her jeans, pulled it out, and blew her nose. She looked at her mother. "Did he hurt you, Mama?"

Fabbiola shook her head, her mouth slack. "Did . . . did Marco kill my father?"

"I'm afraid he did," Garini said.

"And . . .and Maria?"

"Yes. He also rigged up the knife for Lilly."

Her face twisted. "I thought it was somebody from outside the family. He . . . he said he would never harm anybody. He said it was embarrassing and asked me to keep it to myself."

"Keep what to yourself?" Garini didn't take his eyes off the stunned Marco.

"That he didn't manage to pass the final exam at university. That's why he could never qualify as a real doctor."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Oh, no." Fabbiola hugged the cushion a bit tighter. "Father did, on the morning of the wedding."

Carlina closed her eyes. "Why didn't you ever tell us, Mama?"

Fabbiola's eyes widened. "I thought it didn't matter. I completely forgot."

For one pregnant moment, Carlina's eyes met Garini's.

She said, "So Marco had no idea you knew his secret? How did he find out?"

"I told him."

Carlina gasped. "You told him you knew he wasn't qualified as a doctor? That was like signing your own death certificate! When did you do that?"

Fabbiola plucked at the corner of her pillow. "At Benedetta's birthday party. He turned so pale that I felt very sorry. I promised I would never tell anybody."

Carlina caught her breath.
I saw them talking.

Marco had closed his eyes now. He sat slumped with his back against the shelves, motionless.

Carlina swallowed.
I hope I didn't kill him.

"Was Lilly around when you had that conversation with Marco?" Garini asked.

Fabbiola's mouth grew slack. "I don't know. Maybe. I . . . yes. Possibly."

Carlina threw Garini a warning glance.
Better not question her further.
Her mother would never overcome the feelings of guilt when she realized she had been the unwitting cause for the murder attempt on Lilly.

She knew he had understood her silent message, but the slight shake of his head showed her he was not going to stop asking questions.

"When did you tell Maria?" he asked.

Carlina frowned. "Maybe grandfather told her."

Fabbiola shook her head. "No. I let it slip, a day before she was killed. But I made her promise not to tell anybody, and I'm sure she didn't!"

Carlina swallowed. It hurt.
Damn.
Maybe, if Garini didn't question her further, Fabbiola wouldn't notice that her carelessness had caused Maria's death.

But no, she couldn't count on that. He wasn't quite the human computer she had thought at first, but he would not spare her mother. He had a job to do.

She put her arm around her mother's shoulders and met his gaze with defiance. No need to speak, he would know exactly what she was thinking. Yes, there it was. A tightening of his mouth, right next to that interesting little scar. She suppressed a sigh. Enemies once again.

"When you talked to Maria, was Marco anywhere near?" he asked.

"Oh, no." Fabbiola pushed the strand of hair back from her brow. "Marco came later, but he wasn't in the house when we talked."

"Where were you?" His question came hard and fast.

"We were in Maria's living room. I stood next to the window. Maria always smelled a bit . . . intense, so I opened it during our conversation."

Carlina glared at the Commissario. Enough was enough. He didn't need to spell it out.

Garini met her gaze, then knelt to feel Marco's pulse.

Carlina bent forward. "He's not dead, is he?"

Garini straightened. "No." He lifted his hand, picked a bit of polystyrene foam from Carlina's hair, and dropped it to the floor. "But your mannequin certainly is." His face softened. "How's the shoulder?"

"It hurts."

"Make sure you see a doctor."

She swallowed. Having him so near did things to her she couldn't control. "I will."

Stefano' gaze never left her face. "You look a lot like your father. Remind me to show you a video I got this morning."

Carlina's heart skipped a beat. "My father?"

He nodded.

"Of course she looks like Paul," Fabbiola said. "That's what I said all along."

Garini grinned.

Carlina couldn't avert her gaze.
I love it when he smiles.

Their eyes locked.

"I'll call you," he said.

She had trouble with her breathing. "When?"

His smile deepened. "Yesterday."

THE END

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