Garini fixed Annalisa with his light eyes. “These were the only nylons we found in the hotel room. Are you sure you can't give me any idea about the whereabouts of the pair which Carlina gave to you as a gift?”
Annalisa crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Heavens, if you absolutely want to know, I guess they got torn, and I threw them away.”
“However, these nylons don't have runs. How come they were torn so quickly?” His voice was calm.
The Mantoni Clan held its breath. For once, the silence was absolute.
Carlina looked from one to the other, perturbed. Where was this leading?
Annalisa lifted her shoulders as if she was freezing and hugged herself. “I dare say you don't know anything about it, Commissario,” she gave him a dark look, “but in certain situations, panties are only in the way, and it may just be that Trevor removed them a bit too impatiently.”
Carlina gave her cousin a warning look. Don't try to provoke him!
Garini didn't twitch a muscle. “I see. I'll note your statement in the report, and you can sign it tomorrow.”
Benedetta blinked and roused herself as if she had woken from sleep. “Enough talking,” she pulled her daughter to the door. “Annalisa needs to rest. Buona notte, Commissario.”
The gang trooped out of the room.
Garini turned and looked at Carlina.
She couldn't read the impression on his face. “That remark about fainting being in the family was pretty nasty.” Carlina hunched her shoulders.
“If she had fainted for real, I wouldn't have said anything,” he said.
“How on earth do you know she didn't?”
“That admirable blush on her cheeks never paled.” His voice was dry. “You, however, turn green before you faint.”
“What a nice comment.” Carlina shook her head. “Thank you so much.”
A smile settled in one corner of his mouth. “Would it help if I said it's a very fetching green?”
“Not at all.” She couldn't help it, she had to grin.
“Listen, Carlina, I--”
“Yes?”
“I'd give anything not to be in this situation.” His mouth tightened. “I'm unable to treat all suspects in this case equally.”
She caught her breath. “You think you know who killed Trevor?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I think I know who didn't.”
“Oh.” She could feel her face going hot. “I see.” She heard her mother's voice, floating up through the open door, talking about happiness to come, then Uncle Teo's measured steps, going downstairs. She lifted her eyes, only to see that his gaze rested on her, a curious expression in them. Was it tenderness? He didn't look like the cynical Garini she knew. What if he gave this case to his colleague tomorrow? At least he knew her family, knew that their eccentric behavior didn't mean they were murderers. He would look deeper; he would not accept the obvious solution just because it was served on a silver plate. Besides, she would be closer to the case, could help to protect Annalisa, and she would spend time with him, time he would not usually have for her. “Would you--” She broke off. Madonna, this was hard. “Would you mind awfully continuing with this case?”
The tender expression on his face receded and left it wooden. “Why do you ask?”
“I . . . I know you're fair.”
“I should hope my colleagues are, too.”
She looked at her hands, cramped around each other. “Yes. I guess they are. But it would be more comfortable with you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Because you think I would overlook any irregularities in the behavior of your family? I don't condone murder, even if it would protect the Mantonis to look the other way.”
“I didn't mean that!” Her throat ached. How could he get her so wrong? How could he believe that she would want him to be corrupted? Didn't he know her well enough? Didn't he know that she would lose all respect for him? She straightened her shoulders. “I think you should go now.”
“Cuckoo!” Fabbiola peered into the room. “I thought I would tell the lovebirds that it's time to call it a night.”
“For heaven's sake, Mama!” Carlina glared at her mother. “I'm not seventeen anymore.”
Fabbiola wagged her finger at them and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Garini interrupted.
“You're quite right. Good night.” He nodded at Carlina as if she was an acquaintance he'd just met at the station, brushed past Fabbiola, and hurried from the room.
Damn. Carlina felt like crying.
“My, he was in a hurry, wasn't he?” Fabbiola frowned. “He's an odd man, to be sure.”
Carlina looked at the cushion underneath her mother's arm and at her flowing, lilac garment, sprinkled with silver stars. “Yes,” she said tonelessly. “Very odd.”
Chapter 6
I
“Can I talk with you for a minute, Signor Cervi?” Garini knew Cervi didn't like to be addressed before ten o'clock, but he had no choice.
Cervi looked up from his desk where he had been staring at a single piece of paper, covered with fine writing, and frowned. “Place the report onto my desk.” He spoke in a low mumble as if he was still half asleep.
“I did so two hours ago.” Stefano pointed at a folder next to Cervi's elbow. “It's about the case.”
“What?” It was more a grunt than anything else.
“I need to be taken off the case.”
That got him. Cervi lifted both eyebrows, a sign of extreme activity at this time of the day. “Why?”
“Because I know the involved suspects personally.”
“What?” Obviously, Cervi had not yet managed to overcome the stage that only covered monosyllables.
Now was the moment to introduce the clinching argument. “I fear the mayor would suspect foul play if the public learns that I have personal connections to the case. That's why I suggest we ask Sergio to take over. He's back in the office today.” Even if Sergio was half-dead and sniffing, but at least he was back.
Cervi stared at him. “The mayor?”
A distinct improvement. Two words in a row, even if slurred together. Stefano remained standing though he would usually have taken a seat uninvited. “You remember the scandal two summers ago, when the mayor suspected that we had treated the Leonetti brothers better than deserved because you knew them personally? I wish to avoid the same situation.”
A pulse started to beat in Cervi's neck. “The Leonetti brothers.”
Three words. Way to go, Cervi. “I could go through the case with Sergio. It only started yesterday; he'll be on top of all the facts in no time at all.” Wake up, Cervi. Say yes.
“Why?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why you wanna stop?”
Stefano bent forward and spoke slower. “Because I am personally connected to some suspects. It doesn't look good.”
“Who?”
Damn. He'd wanted to avoid that. “Carlina Ashley.”
“Who's that?”
Stefano lifted an eyebrow. He was not going to answer a question that sounded like an insult.
“C'm on, Garini.” Cervi glared at him. “Who's that girl? What does she have to do with you?”
“We're friends.”
“Oho.” Cervi leaned back, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Friends, eh? You can't stop investigating cases only because friends are involved, Garini.”
Stefano balled his right hand into a fist. What a dirty grin his boss had.
Cervi shrugged. “If I stopped working under those circumstances, I couldn't take on a single case.”
As if he has a zillion friends in town. “I still think it would be wise to put Sergio onto the case, Signor Cervi.”
Cervi shook his head. “Can't do that. Would be different if she was your lover.” He bent forward. “Is she?”
Garini clenched his teeth. What if he said yes?
Cervi chuckled. “If you can't even answer that question, it shouldn't be too d
ifficult to stay neutral. I say go right ahead with the case.” He lifted his index finger. “I expect you to be professional, though, don't forget that. We can't offer the mayor grounds for funny thoughts.”
Garini left Cervi's office with his teeth clenched. As he walked down the corridor to his office, he made a conscious effort to unlock his jaw, but it felt as if his muscles would splinter. Damn that man.
“Signor Garini!” The breathless voice came from behind him, accompanied by the sound of trampling feet.
“Buongiorno, Piedro.” Garini didn't slow down.
Garini's assistant broke into a gallop to keep up with his boss. “I have checked the backgrounds of Signora Asseli and Signor Morin, as you told me. It was a bit difficult, as the French number you gave me only led to someone who refused to speak Italian.”
“How surprising, seeing that you called Paris. Why didn't you try English?”
Piedro shot him a surprised look. “English?”
“Yes. You've heard of English. It's the language spoken all over the world whenever international communication is necessary.”
“Er. I don't speak much English.”
Garini stopped and looked at his assistant. “Do you want me to book you a course?”
Piedro looked horrified to the tips of his gelled-up hair. “A course?”
“Yes. Language lessons. I can get you on a free course, once or twice a week, after work. Every six months, you take a test to check how much you've learned.”
Piedro swallowed. “Ugh. I mean, great. I . . . did you say it's after work?”
“Yes.” Garini made sure his face didn't show his feelings.
“Oh. I see. Well, I managed to find someone in Paris who spoke Italian.”
“Congratulations.” Garini resumed walking.
“And there's no report whatsoever on Leopold Morin.”
“That's what I expected.” Garini opened the squeaking door of his office and went in. “Anything else?”
“They also checked the Internet. It seems students say he's a bit of a dry stick but not too bad overall.”
“That all about him?”
“Yes.”
Garini waved Piedro in the direction of a wooden chair and sat down behind his desk. “What about Gertrude Asseli?”
Piedro swallowed. “She's well known in Zurich for complaining to the police about all kinds of things.” He lifted both shoulders. “In fact, they laughed at me and asked me to arrest her, so she would not return home. I did not think that was funny.”
“What things?”
Piedro pulled a battered notebook from his jacket and looked at his notes. “The left-hand neighbors listen to music that's too loud, the right-hand neighbor does not clean up after his dog, the town does not sufficiently light up the parking space in the shopping center, and the zoo does not clean the cages correctly besides feeding the monkeys with bananas.”
Garini frowned. “Are you sure you got the last bit right?”
Piedro nodded. “They spoke Italian with a funny accent, but I understood them well.”
“But that doesn't make sense.”
“What?” Piedro double-checked his notes. “Well, I . . . I'm not so sure. They laughed all the time.” He frowned. “I had the impression they were laughing at me, but I don't know why.”
“Did they give you any additional information about that monkey-banana-incident?”
Piedro looked at his notebook as if he hoped it would start to speak to him. “They said something I did not get, but you once told me to write down everything, even the things that don't make sense.”
Garini curbed his impatience with an iron hand. “Yes?”
“She read a book about nutrition. But she didn't file a report about that, so I don't see why they mentioned it.”
“Maybe it was a modern book about the correct nutrition for monkeys, and it said that bananas are not good for monkeys.”
“Oh.” Piedro's face lit up. “Yeah, that's what they said. They talked too quick to write it all down, so it sort of slipped my memory.” He eyed his boss with something like respect.
I can't believe I'm discussing monkey food. Stefano shook his head.
“I don't know why she filed so much.” Piedro once again frowned at his notes. “They didn't say.”
“No doubt she sees it as her duty as a citizen to report everything she considers to be wrong.”
Piedro nodded with glassy eyes. It was the look he always had when he stopped following a conversation.
His attention span is shorter than a squirrel's. Garini suppressed a sigh. Why had Cervi given him his own son as an assistant? To survey what he was doing or to drive him up the wall in exasperation? “Thank you for that information. Now type up all these notes and send them to me before lunch.”
Piedro's face fell. He nodded, got up in slow motion, and left the room with drooping shoulders.
No doubt he thought being a policeman is chasing criminals at gunpoint all the time. Garini shrugged. He couldn't help it that life was different. If only Piedro was a bit quicker to add two and two together. Then he could give him more interesting jobs. But his assistant even managed to botch the least important things, like checking up on Morin and Asseli, which had been more of a routine than anything. Nothing linked them to the case, nothing but being at the wrong time inside the Basilica. Garini got up. He had to talk to Carlina again, and he didn't know if the feeling inside him was dread or excitement. It was a new feeling, something he had never felt before. Drat the woman.
II
Garini stopped his motorbike at a red light and pushed up the protective shield from his helmet. The air felt like liquid ice, but a light-blue sky, thin and translucent like a veil, took away the feeling of oppression he had felt yesterday. The feeble winter sun played on the sand-colored stone of the little café to his right. A few hardy souls had even taken seats outside, well wrapped up in mufflers and coats. Tourists from the north, no doubt. No self-respecting Italian would sit outside in weather like that. An old man, wrapped into so many clothes that he looked like a woolen ball, sat close to the sidewalk and blinked into the light. The look he gave passing people was intense, filled with the sort of hunger that shows loneliness.
Garini frowned. He knew this man. It was Teodoro Mantoni, Carlina's great-uncle. Suddenly, he heard Carlina's voice. “It'll be his first Christmas all alone.”
A horn rang out, and a voice from behind him shouted. “Have you fallen asleep on that bike of yours? Stop dreaming, man! The light is green!”
Garini gave a start. On an impulse, he turned right and stopped in front of the café. He locked his bike, took off his helmet, and went to the table where Carlina's Uncle Teo sat immobile like a woolen statue.
“May I join you, Signor Mantoni?”
Uncle Teo looked up. His eyes widened, then he smiled. “Signor Garini.” He got up and shook Stefano's hand. “What a pleasure to see you. Can I invite you for a cup of coffee?”
Very bored. “Thank you.” Stefano was glad he was wearing his heavy leather jacket because a chilly wind took away any effect the winter sun might have had. He took the seat offered.
“Is everything all right?” Uncle Teo's eyes focused on Stefano with surprising sharpness. “With Carlina?”
Stefano felt a bolt going through him. “What about Carlina?”
“She seemed down this morning.”
Not more down than I. But he was not willing to discuss his relationship with Carlina, even if there had been anything to discuss. “You once offered to help me with a case,” he said. “And I would like to take you up on that offer.”
Uncle Teo sat up straight. “Yes?”
The waiter appeared and Garini ordered a coffee. As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, Garini continued. “There's a suspect in the case I'm working on. His name is Leopold Morin. He's French.”
“Yes?” Uncle Teo leaned forward. “I speak French.”
“You do?” Garini smiled. “That's good, bu
t you won't need it.”
“No?” Uncle Teo's bushy eyebrows lowered with disappointment. “Why not?”
“Because I want you to remain invisible. Just check out where he's going, and what he's doing. Follow him if you can, check when he comes to the hotel, and when he returns.” That should keep him occupied for some days, covering Christmas, and it was a job where he could not come to harm.
“Do I call for you when he does something suspicious?”
“No.” There won't be anything suspicious. “Just note what he does, and send me a report--” Garini stopped. He had wanted to say “whenever you want”, but that didn't sound convincing enough. Uncle Teo was an intelligent man. “Send me a report every two days.” God, I sound like Cervi.
“Will do.” Uncle Teo nodded.
“Your coffee.” The waiter slid the coffee in front of Stefano with one swift move.
“I have two other people on the job as well, so it'll be enough if you cover him from morning till one o'clock.” Shadowing people could be exhausting, and Stefano did not want Uncle Teo to have a breakdown. If he was lucky, Leopold Morin did not leave his hotel before nine o'clock. “You will not see these other people, though.”
“All right.” Uncle Teo's eyes started to sparkle. “Do I call you to report where he is when I leave my post?”
“Yes. If you don't reach me, just leave a message. I'll pass it on.”
“Good.” Uncle Teo bent closer. “How do I recognize this Frenchman?”
“He stays at the Albergo di Armonia on the Borgo Santi Apostoli. He's very thin and small and has virtually no hair. Outside, he wears a black cap and a dark coat, oh, and he likes patent leather shoes. You should have no difficulty to recognize him.”
Uncle Teo nodded. “Do you have a picture of him?”
“In the office.” Garini lifted his cup and took a cautious sip. The coffee was scalding hot. “I'll get in touch with my assistant and ask him to give it to you when you call at the police station.”
The old man waved a nonchalant hand. “That's not necessary. Just give the picture to Carlina, and she can pass it on to me.”
“Carlina should not know of this.” Garini placed the cup back onto the saucer with a rattle. He had spoken before he knew it.
Charmer's Death (Temptation in Florence Book 2) Page 9
