temptation in florence 04 - expected in death (11 page)

Carlina stared at him, her eyes wide. Contradictory emotions rushed through her. Elation that the problem was gone. Fear that someone from the family had killed her. “Are you sure?”

“She most definitely is dead.”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. “Who did it?”

He closed his eyes. “Please tell me you didn't ask that.”

“Why?” She stared at him. “What else should I have asked?”

“I could think of any number of questions. Like 'How did she die'?”

“Oh.” Carlina swallowed. “You mean it might have been a lucky accident?”

He grimaced. “We'd better stop this. She fell from the San Niccolò Tower.”

Her breath came out in a big whoosh of relief. “So it was an accident? Super.”

“I give up.” He straightened. “I'm going to your family now, to break the news.”

She jumped up. “I'm coming with you.”

He eyed her. “I didn't expect anything less. But I'm warning you: It won't be pleasant.”

Carlina grinned. “I'm not so sure. They'll be very relieved.” Already halfway out of the door, she froze and turned around in slow motion. “Wait a minute. Why are you dealing with it? Are you telling me it's murder after all?”

“It looks like it.”

Their gazes locked.

Carlina felt as if a weight had dropped onto her chest. “You mean we're suspects? Again?”

“I'm afraid so.”

She bit her lower lip while images tumbled through her mind - Uncle Teo dancing with Olga, so happy - the family, incandescent with rage during dinner – Aunt Violetta, her gnarled finger stretched out, pointing at Olga during the birthday party . . . they were all suspects now. And if she was being honest with herself, then she wouldn't put it past any member of her family to have given Olga that shove.
Damn
. She swallowed hard and looked at Garini. “I was at Temptation all day long. But I can't prove that. It was a quiet day, and I hardly had any customers at all.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “I'll note that. Thanks.”

“Stefano?” Her voice was small.

“Yes?”

“Will this come between us?”

He took a deep breath, his face set. “Yes, it will. You're loyal to your family. I have a job to do.”

“Why can't you give the case to someone else?”

“Because of the flu. Half the force is in bed. And because my boss decided that it would further his cause to get more personnel if he creates a scandal. A small one, that is.”

She pressed her lips together. “He's impossible.” Then she swallowed. “I'll help you to find the murderer. The sooner this is cleared up, the better.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. “You won't do anything of the kind, Carlina. It's dangerous.”

Her lips trembled. “But it'll break my heart if you withdraw into that icy distance. You're really good at doing that, you know.”

Garini closed his eyes and held her against his chest. “I won't withdraw. I promise. But nevertheless, this will be ugly.”

III

When they arrived at the family home on Via delle Pinzochere, the Mantonis had just assembled for dinner in Benedetta's kitchen. They were all present – Uncle Teo was sitting at his usual place at the table, his gray head bent over his folded hands. Benedetta was busy handing the steaming pasta plates to Leo who passed them on to the others. Emma sat next to her husband, Lucio, and talked to him in a low voice, while her siblings Ernesto and Annalisa had their red heads together, bickering over something on their smartphones. Everything looked as usual, but the atmosphere was strained, and the usual jokes and smiling faces were missing. Particularly Carlina's mother looked like a thundercloud with legs, glowering at everyone while pushing a strand of henna-red hair from her face. She stood with her back to the sideboard and looked up when Carlina and Garini came into the room. “I've not yet taken a seat,” she said. “Because I'm not staying if that Olga appears again.”

Uncle Teo turned his head and gave Fabbiola a reproachful look. “Is it too much to ask for peace and quiet in this house? Why are you all so set against Olga?” His voice sounded strained.

Carlina bit her lower lip and slid onto the chair next to him. Then she took his hand. “Uncle Teo . . .” Her voice faded. She looked up and met Garini's imperturbable gaze.

“I urgently need to talk to Ugo.” Garini looked around the room, addressing them all. “Do you know how I can reach him?”

Uncle Teo frowned. “If I recall correctly, Olga said he was out of town this afternoon. But she expected him later tonight. She said he might even be in time for dinner.”

“Well, I hope not,” Fabbiola said. “He eats more than a horse, and he's too stupid for words.” She cocked her head to the side. “Yes, that's the right expression. So stupid that he doesn't even know how to talk. I wonder how Olga puts up with such an oaf for a son. Must be the genes.” She smiled to herself, obviously enjoying the comparison to her own clever children.

Annalisa bent forward, her eyes glittering. “Why do you have to talk to Ugo? Did he do something wrong?”

Garini looked at her, deliberating what to say. As a rule, the next of kin had to be informed first. However, Uncle Teo had been very close to Olga, too. And he couldn't get hold of Ugo until he showed up here at the house. As long as he managed to catch Ugo before anyone else told him, he could proceed. He scrutinized each of the faces in turn, wondering how they would react. When he replied, he picked his words with care. “No. Ugo didn't do anything wrong, but I have to break sad news to him. His mother fell from the San Niccolò Tower today. Olga is dead.”

For an instant, nobody moved.

Then Emma let out a whoop and clapped her hands. “This is perfect!”

“Emma!” Carlina glowered at her cousin. “Can you please consider Uncle Teo's feelings?” She pressed her great-uncle's hand and tried to read his face, but he hunched his shoulders forward and pressed his chin against his chest, closing himself off from the family.

“I
am
considering Uncle Teo's feelings,” Emma said. “He wouldn't have been happy with that harpy for long.”

“She's right, Carlina.” Fabbiola came forward and briefly put a hand on Uncle Teo's shoulder as she went past him to her usual chair. When she dropped onto it with a relieved smile, she said: “Now we can be comfortable again.”

“I'm afraid not.” Garini's voice cut in. “This is a murder investigation, and I need to know where you spent the day.” He looked at his wrist watch. “My assistant Piedro should be here any moment now, so we can soon start taking your statements.”
Where is the boy?

“I've been home all day,” Fabbiola took her napkin and spread it on her lap. “Tell him to note that down. Can we eat now?”

“Yes, let's eat first,” Benedetta said. “The pasta will get cold.”

Garini sighed and shook his head, not knowing if he should be exasperated or relieved that they were taking it so easily. “It seems we don't have much choice.”

When Piedro finally appeared, dinner was over.

“Where have you been?” Garini asked so low that only Piedro could hear him.

Piedro colored. “Sofia still had a few questions.”

Garini lifted an eyebrow.

“Some people are not used to dealing with bodies like the Mantonis.” Piedro looked sullen. “I first had to reassure her.”

Yeah, sure.
Garini decided not to pursue the matter. “Let's take the statements of the Mantoni family now. I hope that Ugo, the victim's son, will come later in the evening. It seems he was expected.”

Piedro nodded and took out the tape recorder. “All right.”

It soon became evident that they were not going to help much. Benedetta, Emma, Lucio, and Carlina had been at work. Uncle Teo, Fabbiola, and Leo had been at home, but in different apartments. Ernesto and Annalisa had been first at school or college and later at home. A normal day and normal proceedings – or so it seemed. Somewhere, Garini sensed a furtiveness, something that was not quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and the more he thought about it, the more elusive it became.

When all the statements had been taken, Fabbiola leaned back in her chair and pulled her current knitting from her knitting bag. “Finally, we are allowed to relax.” She lifted her knitting from the bag and stared at it. “Why, I don't believe that!”

Everybody stopped talking and looked at her.

“One of my knitting needles has disappeared.” With both hands, she held up a lopsided piece of fabric.

Garini closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear more.

“It probably just slipped out.” Carlina bent forward and took the bag from her mother. “Let me have a look.” She started to rummage around the bag.

“That's really annoying.” Fabbiola frowned. “Yesterday, I started fashionable panties for Carlina's shop, and it was almost done.”

“That was quick work,” Emma said.

“Depends on the size of the panties,” Annalisa said. “If it was a thong, it wouldn't take long.”

Fabbiola stared at her niece. “Of course it wasn't a thong, Annalisa. A thong is good for nothing. My panties will keep you warm. It had a very pretty edge, and I wanted to show it to Carlina tonight.”

Carlina shook her head and dropped the bag. “The needle isn't there, Mama. Could you have dropped it somewhere else?”

“No, I don't think so. I--”

The door flew open and Ugo rolled in like an avalanche.
“Buona sera.”

The family fell silent and stared at him.

Uncle Teo got up slowly. He was leaning heavily on the table and took a few faltering steps forward.

He aged ten years tonight.
Garini went to him and supported his arm.

Uncle Teo didn't seem to notice. “Ugo, my son . . .”

Fabbiola hissed in her breath.

Ugo looked around. “Where's my mother?”

Garini bent forward and pulled out a chair. “Please sit down, Ugo.”

Ugo buried the chair beneath his bulk. “What's up? Why do you all look as if someone died?”

Carlina gulped audibly.

“I'm afraid your mother died today.” Garini said with his most neutral voice. Experience had taught him that bad news was best delivered at once and not drawn out.

Ugo puckered his lips, then slowly shook his head. “I don't believe that. She was fine yesterday.”

“I'm afraid it's true. She fell from the San Niccolò Tower.”

Ugo stared at him. “What tower?”

“The San Niccolò Tower. On Piazza Poggi, in the Oltrarno area.”

Again, Ugo shook his head. “Never heard of it. She wouldn't go there.”

“What if someone asked her to go there for a meeting?”

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “She wouldn't go. My mother set meetings. She didn't go to them unless she had organized them herself.”

How very true.
Garini didn't avert his gaze for one minute from Ugo. He was obviously in denial, which made it a bit easier for the moment. However, Garini didn't want to be anywhere close when reality hit him.

Ugo returned Garini's gaze with a stoic expression in his eyes. “If she's dead, then she was killed.”

Fabbiola sat up straight. “Why would you think so?”

Ugo looked around the room, his round face devoid of emotion. “Everybody hated her. She was hard to love.”

“You can say that again.” Emma tapped her red fingernails on the table. “But that doesn't mean that someone shoved her over the edge. Maybe she fell. It could have been an accident.”

“No.” Garini shook his head. “You can't fall from that tower by mistake. There's an iron bar that stops you from climbing or sitting on the stones.”

“Then she was killed.” Ugo shuddered.

“She could also have committed suicide,” Garini said, to test the waters.

Several people snorted at once. “Olga? Suicide? Never.” That was Fabbiola. “She was way too proud and would never even have considered for even one single minute to deprive the world of her precious self.”

Carlina gave her a scandalized look. “Mama, please!”

Ugo looked at Fabbiola. “You hated her. You always did. I'm sure you killed her.” He got up, dwarfing the kitchen. All at once, tears rolled down his cheeks. With one lunge, he threw his massive body across the table and placed his ham-like fists around Fabbiola's neck.

“Stand back!” Garini's voice came out like a whip. “Don't touch her!”

Ugo didn't react.

Garini jumped at his back, pulled back one arm and twisted it up until Ugo let go of Fabbiola. “Promise to leave her alone, or I'll put you in handcuffs.”

Ugo growled. “You should put
her
in handcuffs. She's a killer.”

Garini winced, wondering if Ugo was right. “Promise me that you'll stay in control now.”

Ugo took a deep breath and averted his gaze from Fabbiola. “All right.”

Garini dropped Ugo's arm and took a step back, never taking his gaze from the huge man. He seemed to be back in control now, but who knew how long this would last.

Fabbiola touched her neck with one hand and stared at him with all the haughtiness of an insulted queen. “I should bring charges against you,” she said. “But no doubt you're beside yourself with grief, so I'll be lenient.”

Emma sat up straight. “Gosh, have you gone crazy, Aunt Fabbiola? This huge oaf here attacks you, and all you say is that you'll be lenient? I don't believe it! He should be behind bars. Who knows what he'll do next?”

Ugo turned to her in slow motion.

She faced him with a condescending look. “And you needn't look like a bull, because I won't be intimidated! You've got more muscle than brain and--”

“That will do, Emma.” Garini interrupted her and turned to Ugo. “The police still need your statement, Ugo. Maybe we should go to another room and--”

Ugo interrupted him by holding up one hand. “What do you want to know?”

“The usual questions in such an investigation,” Garini replied. “Like where you spent the day, when you--.”

“I--” The big man turned as red as the remaining tomato sauce on the plates. “I was out.”

“Out? Where?” Garini frowned. Why was Ugo blushing so fiercely? What had he done that he couldn't admit?

“Just out. Walking.” He pushed his chin forward.