“Was he in any way different in the last weeks? Or this morning?”
“No.” She shook her head decisively. “He was just like always.”
Garini looked at the pictures. “What was the name of the circus?”
She smiled. “The Bellezzi Circus. We even had a tiger.” It sounded wistful. “I might go back now.”
“Does the name Mantoni convey anything to you?”
She lifted her plucked eyebrows. “Mantoni? No.”
“How about Valentino Canderini?” He watched her like a hawk, ready to register the slightest twitching of a muscle.
She frowned. “Wasn't he killed? I read it in the paper. Good-looking young man. A shame.”
“Is that all you know about it? Did your husband mention this case to you at any time? Did he comment?”
She looked bewildered. “No. Never. But he knew how to keep a secret, Giorgio did.”
Garini took out a picture of Carlina and Emma. It had been taken at Emma's wedding last year. “Do you know these women?” Maybe he should start to carry around the pictures of every single member of the Mantoni family.
She grabbed the picture, her blood-red nails covering half of it.
He resisted the urge to snatch it back.
“Nah.” She shook her head. “I've never seen 'em.”
Good. The relief he felt exasperated him. For his case, it would have been much better if the murders were in some way connected. As it was, it looked as if two entirely disconnected homicides had fallen into his lap. “Don't be a fool,” his inner voice said. “There may be no proof, but you know in your gut that this is no coincidence. You just have to dig deeper.” Now when had he last thought of a circus performance? It wasn't that long ago . . . The juggling! Maria and Simonetta had juggled like professionals on the evening of Ernesto's birthday.
“Have you ever heard of Simonetta Andretta?”
“No.” She shook her head so hard that the sugary hair structure around her ears started to wobble.
“Maria Focasciu?”
“Nope.”
She seemed to be very sure of herself. Garini dropped the connection to the Mantonis for the moment. He had to ask one more thing. What was the word her husband had said in his last minute again? Now he remembered. “Does the name Alana or Alanna ring a bell?”
“Alana?” She frowned. “I'm not sure. I may have heard it before.”
“Nirvana?”
She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “You're not talking about paradise, are you?”
“I doubt it.” Garini's voice was dry. “It was the last word your husband said.”
She gave a snort. “It would be like him to expect paradise in spite of everything.” She frowned and shook her head. “But the other word you said . . . What was it? Alana? It reminds me of something . . .”
“Think.” Garini watched her like a hawk. “It might be important.”
She looked at the rings on her fingers, then slowly shook her head. “No. I'm sorry. I've got a feeling that I should know it, but at the moment, I can't place it.”
He gave her his card. “The minute you remember, make sure you call me.”
With a sigh of relief, he escaped from the over-stuffed apartment of Signora Pulo and returned to the office. Without wasting another minute, he called Roberto. Maybe the pathologist had already managed to get some results. “It's me, Roberto. Are you done?”
“Yes I am. Quick as always,” Roberto sounded like a chirping sparrow, carefree and relaxed. “And I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” Garini suppressed a grin. “Should I anticipate something good or should I be scared?”
“That's unworthy of you!” Roberto sounded hurt. “It's a pleasant surprise, of course.”
“Ah?”
“I found the knife.”
“Really? That's indeed good news. Where?”
“Inside the body.”
Garini frowned. “Explain that to me.”
“The knife entered the body with so much force that it disappeared completely. It's an extremely sharp and thin stiletto, and quite short.”
“Can you see similarities to Valentino Canderini's murder?”
“Absolutely. Right-handed, slightly from above, great force. Exactly the same type of work. It looks as if you've got a guy with a twitching knife hand on your plate.”
Garini sighed. “My feeling exactly. But so far, I haven't found any connection between the newspaperman and the Mantoni family.”
“Don't worry; you'll manage.” Roberto said. “If there's anything to find, you'll do it. How's the girl?”
“Which girl?”
“The waif-like one who found the body. She was pretty shaken.”
“I don't know, but I dare say she's in good hands.” The Mantonis would know how to pick her up. “I believe she's washing corn now.”
“She's doing what?” Roberto sounded scandalized.
“Oh, nothing. Just a figure of speech, so to say.” Garini grinned. “Have you had a closer look at the knife?”
“The knife? Of course not.” Roberto snorted. “I'm a pathologist, not a blacksmith.”
“You said it's a stiletto. Is it the sort you can buy at the supermarket?”
“Would be a strange supermarket,” Roberto said. “So I guess the answer is no.”
“Can we test it for fingerprints?”
“It's a mess.” Roberto said. “Besides, it looks as if the handle has some sort of engraved surface that would not take prints easily.”
“Damn.” Garini frowned. “I'll send Piedro around to pick it up. He can put it into the newspapers. Maybe someone will be able to recognize it.”
“Two very different knives were used for these murders,” Roberto said. “One very large, the other very small. If the killer likes symmetry, he'll go for a medium size the next time.”
Garini clenched his teeth. “There won't be a third murder. Not if I can help it.”
He hung up and called Piedro to explain the job and tell his assistant exactly what to publish in the newspaper. Piedro told him he had not yet unearthed any useful information about Giorgio Pulo and managed to sound as if he had fallen asleep while doing the research. Which maybe he had. Garini wondered if he would ever manage to get another assistant.
Then he rubbed his forehead in thought but before he could decide which approach to take next, the door opened and Cervi walked in. Garini took one look at the face of his boss and knew he was in for some uncomfortable minutes.
“What's this I hear?” Cervi placed both hands onto Garini's desk and pushed his red face forward. “Another man was stabbed?”
“Yes.”
“Why don't you tell me? Why do I have to get the news from my son?”
I'll have to tell Piedro how to handle his father. “I was just on my way to you.” Garini made sure his voice sounded even. “But I had not yet finished the report.” Not yet started would have been the better expression.
“Reports!” Cervi made an impatient move with his hand and brought it back onto the table with a slapping sound. “I wonder what's gotten into you, Garini. A literary ambition? Your reports have gotten way too long to handle. Cut it down, will you?”
Garini inclined his head. Not on your life.
“So tell me about the stabbing.”
“The victim's name is Giorgio Pulo. He's a retired clown and bought the newspaper booth a year ago. His widow was rather happy about his death. It seems he was doing spots of blackmailing on the side, and she didn't approve.”
Cervi snorted. “An unlikely story.”
The faded face of Signora Pulo rose in front of Garini's inner eye. Her story had sounded extremely thin - but something about her had nevertheless managed to convince him. In spite of all sugary surface, Garini had sensed a hard-working, honest core - a woman who held fast to her beliefs. “Unlikely, yes, but we've seen stranger things.”
“What do you plan to do now?”
“I'm
looking for a connection between the two murders.”
Cervi looked at him as if he had said he wanted to start tap-dancing next. “What? Are you sure you're not taking some drugs or other stuff that detaches you from reality? First those endless reports and now this . . .” He made a move with his hand that encompassed everything.
“Roberto says it's the same handwriting, so to speak. The same angle, the same force.”
“Coincidence.” Cervi shook his head.
“I don't think so. Besides, it's just around the corner from the Mantoni family house, and three women who were close to the scene of crime the last time were present at the newspaper booth when I arrived.”
“Three women?”
“Yes. Simonetta Andretta, an opera singer, Maria Focasciu, and Caroline Ashley.” He braced himself for the inevitable comment about Carlina, but Cervi's reaction surprised him.
“Did you say Focasciu? Not the Focasciu, is it?”
Garini frowned. “The Focasciu?”
“Andrea Focasciu.” Cervi looked at him with impatience. “The CEO of 'Pelle di Toscana'. Now don't tell me you've never heard of them, either.”
Of course Garini had heard of Pelle di Toscana. The company was one of the biggest employers in the region, producing high-quality leather items with the coveted “Made in Italy” embossing. They made leather accessories for many luxury brands all over the world.
“Andrea Focasciu is not only one of the wealthiest men in town, he's also the current president of the chamber of commerce and this year's leader at the Rotary Club.”
Garini blinked. What was his daughter doing, cleaning other people's houses? “I doubt she's his daughter. Might be an impoverished relation. She cleans the Mantoni house.”
Cervi immediately lost interest in the impoverished relation. “Who else was there? Did you say Caroline Ashley?”
Garini clenched his teeth. “Yes.”
“I'm warning you, Garini.” Cervi pushed his face forward. “I expect you to solve this case without stirring up a scandal. Do you hear me?”
Garini returned the look and didn't bat an eyelid.
“Are you still going out with that woman?”
Garini got up.
“What are you doing?”
“I'm leaving.”
“I can see that. But you haven't answered my question. Why are you leaving in the middle of our conversation?” Cervi's face turned an ugly red.
“Because if you insist on calling Caroline Ashley “that woman”, I will lose my temper, and this might result in a nasty scene. So I prefer to leave. Arrivederci, Signor Cervi.” Garini closed the door with a soft sound behind him before Cervi could reply.
“That woman”. How dare he? Garini's anger made him rush downstairs as if he was on an urgent mission.
“Hello!”
Garini didn't stop.
“Stefano! Hello!”
He turned his head.
Gloria the receptionist was waving at him.
Garini suppressed a sigh. Gloria always found a pretext to make him stop, offering him plenty of opportunity to inspect her cleavage. He sometimes wondered if she stuffed melons into her bra. “Not now, Gloria. I'm afraid it's urgent.”
“I have a message for you.” She waved a piece of paper. “I was told it's urgent, too.”
It took real effort to stop next to her booth. “Yes?”
“I wrote it down. It's from your girlfriend.” She gave him a knowing look.
“Thanks.” He stretched out his hand. Why didn't Carlina call on my cell phone if she wanted to leave a message?
As if she had heard his thoughts, Gloria said, “She told me your cell phone wasn't working. Something about the network.”
How odd. “Thanks.” He grabbed the paper from her and turned to go, unfolding the message.
Meet me for dinner tonight at the Cantinetta Alfredo. 8PM. Don't mention this to anybody. Don't call me under any circumstances.
He turned on his heel and faced Gloria. “Did she really say this?”
Gloria grinned. “Every word. She dictated it and made me repeat it. I found it a bit strange, too, but maybe she figured I'm bound by oath not to blab about anything I hear.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Aren't you?”
Gloria rolled her eyes. “I am, in fact. Sort of. Not an oath, but . . . a statement.”
“How did she sound?”
“Your girlfriend?”
Why did she say it like an insult? “Caroline Ashley.” He kept his voice even.
Gloria shrugged and bent forward. The melons threatened to pop out of her t-shirt. “How should she sound? I don't think I ever talked to her before, so I can't tell if she was different.”
“Did she seem excited? Afraid?”
“Nah.” Gloria shook her head and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Normal. Nothing special. She insisted on you coming, though. It was important, she said.”
“Hm.” Garini frowned. It didn't sound like Carlina at all. What a crazy idea to transmit a confidential message via the receptionist. “When did the call come in?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
He pulled out his cell phone and checked the connection. It looked fine.
The Cantinetta Alfredo was a restaurant with two levels, one on the ground floor, and a second floor underneath, dimly lit. It had little booths that gave you more privacy than most restaurants and was therefore well known as a meeting place for couples who did not want to be seen. It offered good Tuscany food, home-made by Alfredo and his wife - in fact, their fettucine al limone was famous all over town. He had once taken Carlina there, in the beginning of their relationship, when she had not wanted to meet anybody from her family inadvertently.
Garini frowned. He had a strange feeling about this meeting. Carlina was transparent, open. She did not revert to cloak and dagger schemes. The Cantinetta Alfredo was also very popular because it had a hidden side entrance, just off the Piazza della Repubblica. Central, and yet discreet. However, the street was dark and little frequented. His frown deepened. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
“Is everything all right?” Gloria's eyes sparkled in anticipation of a little scandal.
“Of course. Thanks for passing on the message.” He left the building and turned around the corner. He already had his hand on the phone, wanting to call Carlina to confirm that the message had come from her, when he saw Simonetta crossing the street in front of him.
He hurried to catch up with her. “Simonetta!”
She jumped and turned around with wide-opened eyes. “What?” Her hand went to her chest in relief when she recognized Garini. “Oh, it's you.”
He frowned. “Who are you afraid of?”
“Why, nobody.” She pulled back her broad shoulders. “I just didn't expect anybody to sneak up behind me.” She continued to walk along the street, maneuvering around a triangular restaurant signpost that announced fresh pasta today.
I didn't sneak. Garini refrained from saying it out loud while he kept up with her. He gave her determined profile a look and decided to tackle her head-on. “Have you ever worked in a circus, Simonetta?”
She stopped dead. “What?”
“Have you ever worked in a circus?” He repeated the question with as much patience as he could muster.
She blinked. “So you've been checking up on my life.” Her eyes narrowed. “I'm a suspect, right? Is that it? Just because I'm not from Florence, you're looking for a scapegoat, but I won't be . . .”
Garini held up a hand. “Everyone is a suspect. No exceptions. And believe me, I'm not making any concessions for the Mantoni family. Far from it.”
She gave a snort that said enough.
He clenched his teeth. “Answer my question, please.”
“Of course I've worked in a circus. But you know that already, don't you?” Her voice was an insult.
He forced himself to stay calm. “I can take you into the police station for questioning. Would you prefer this?�
�
She drew in her breath with a hiss. “I worked one year for the Goldini circus, right after I had finished school.”
“What did you do there?”
“When I started, I mostly worked behind the scenes, but in the end, I was allowed to juggle and sing.”
“To sing? Isn't that a bit unusual?”
Simonetta gave him a hard look. “So what? I'm a good singer. They took advantage of it. When I left, the act died.”
“Did you have clowns?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course we had clowns. Have you ever heard of a circus without clowns? It's the cheapest possible act, besides, you don't need special training, just some good ideas which you can steal from others.”
Garini tried not to be sidetracked. “Can you remember the names of the clowns in the Goldini circus?”
Her jaw dropped. “The names of the clowns? Are you kidding me?”
He didn't reply.
She spread her hands before her and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I say. You're serious, aren't you? But how should I remember the names of the clowns? That was years ago! Besides, they all had show names, and we got used to them, so we called each other by those. I hardly ever knew their legal names.”
“What was your show name?”
“Stella. It also starts with an S, that's why I chose it.”
“Have you ever heard of a clown with the name Beppo?”
She started to laugh. “They're all called Beppo. It's a sort of tradition. That's like looking for . . . for a Maria in a catholic area.”
Great. Just great. He felt like a fool. “Do you know the Bellezzi Circus?”
“Never heard of it.”
“How can I get in touch with someone from the Goldini circus?”
“To find witnesses for my story?” Simonetta grinned. “Sorry, Commissario. The Goldini circus went bankrupt, and the artists scattered to the four corners of the world. I didn't stay in touch with any of them.”
III
“Please sign here.” The courier had barely come through the door of Temptation when he already held an electronic device under Carlina's nose and pressed a sweaty plastic pen into Carlina's hand.
She signed as instructed and took the envelope he held out to her.
temptation in florence 03 - bankers death Page 15
