Delayed Death (Temptation in Florence Book 1)

by boeker, beate

  Carlina held her breath. What would Emma say now?

  "We didn't think it was serious." Emma seemed upset.

  "Not serious? When he had claimed he felt stiff like a wooden board? It sounds pretty serious to me."

  "We knew it wasn't serious." Emma gained confidence.

  "How could you know?"

  Emma took a deep breath. "Because Uncle Nico was dabbling with self-hypnosis."

  "What?" The Commissario almost shouted the word.

  Carlina hugged her knees and hid her face, but she couldn't suppress her muffled laughter. Her whole body started to shake. The door of the wardrobe trembled with every suppressed giggle, but she couldn't stop herself.

  "Everybody in the family knew Uncle Nico was trying new methods of self-hypnosis. He was becoming quite professional at it." Emma's brand-new explanation was delivered in a nonchalant tone. "We assumed he went a bit over the top this time."

  That did it. Carlina lost her balance, toppled forward and fell out of the wardrobe, right in front of Garini's feet. She laughed so hard, her breath came in shallow gasps. Her eyes streamed, and she tried to gain control, but she couldn't stop.

  "Carlina!" Emma, tanned and well-groomed as always, started forward. "What are you doing in my wardrobe?"

  "Who is that man?" Lucio's voice came from the door. "Emma! What are you doing with this man in our bedroom?"

  Carlina lifted her head, but she couldn't see Lucio as she was still sitting on the floor, hidden behind the bed.

  Garini took a step forward. "I can explain--"

  "I don't want you to explain!" Lucio interrupted him, his voice fierce, and turned on his wife. "What is going on here? How dare you cheat on me the very day our honeymoon is over? How--"

  "Lucio!" Emma darted to his side and shook his arm. "This man is a Commissario!"

  "I don't care what he is! I want to know what he's doing in my bedroom, all alone with you, all covered with roses!"

  Emma threw up her hands. "Oh!" She hissed in her breath. "How can you even start to think I would cheat on you!" She bent forward and stabbed at his chest with her forefinger. "I would never have thought that you have so little trust in me."

  "Trust in you?" Lucio shouted so loud, the door of the wardrobe rattled. "How can you talk about trust when I find you with another man in the bedroom, all alone?"

  "They're not all alone," Carlina raised herself on her knees and looked over the bed. "I'm here, too."

  Lucio's jaw dropped. "Carlina! What are you doing here?"

  Carlina got up and brushed off her trousers. "Not what you think," she said. "I suggest you apologize to Emma. This guy," she pointed with her chin at Garini, "is Commissario Stefano Garini of the homicide department, and he is trying to find out who poisoned grandpa."

  Lucio paled. "Poisoned Uncle Nico?"

  "What?" Emma's hands flew to her throat. "Grandpa was murdered?"

  "Yes."

  Emma's eyes were huge. "But . . ."

  Carlina put an arm around her cousin's shoulders. "You didn't take off grandpa's socks, and that's why Uncle Teo called the police."

  "What?" Emma blinked.

  Carlina nodded. "When they came, they not only found that grandpa had been dead too long to have chatted with you about stiff muscles or anything else, but that he had been poisoned with morphine."

  "I don't believe this." Lucio shook his head.

  "You'd better start," Garini cut in. "That's why I needed to talk to your wife right after her return. I had to hear her story before anybody else could tell her what to say." His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Carlina. "So I asked an officer to bring her to the police station after the plane landed, but she insisted on going home because she didn't want you to worry when you arrived home and found her not here. Stupid enough of me, I agreed to meet her at the apartment, and that's when that trail of roses led us to the bedroom." He gestured at the saucers on the floor.

  Lucio held out his arms. "My darling! I've wronged you!"

  Emma flung herself at his chest.

  The Commissario's eyes met Carlina's.

  She shook with laughter. "Romantic, eh?"

  "Unbelievable," he murmured.

  They watched the happy couple for a minute, then Garini said, "Do you wish to alter your statement, Mrs. Mantoni-Casanuova?"

  Emma lifted her head. "What?"

  "Tell him the truth." Carlina pushed some roses to the side and sat on the bed. The plastic sheet rustled underneath her. "He won't leave you a minute of peace otherwise."

  Emma turned to the Commissario, her husband's arms around her shoulders, and gave him a pretty smile. "My grandfather was dead when we came downstairs to pick him up."

  Lucio turned his head and stared at his wife. "What? He was dead? You said he had felt a bad vibe."

  Emma shrugged. "Maybe he felt one before his death, but when we came downstairs, he was certainly dead."

  "Was he stiff?" Garini asked.

  Lucio drew himself up. "I would appreciate if you could pose your questions with more delicacy, Commissario."

  Carline chuckled, and Garini threw her an exasperated glance.

  "It's all right, Lucio," Emma smiled at her husband, then turned back to the Commissario. "No, he wasn't stiff. We put him to bed, and then I undressed him."

  Lucio's mouth dropped open. "Why did you do that?"

  Emma caressed his cheek. "I didn't want to leave you waiting at the altar, honey. Imagine what would have happened if I had told the world at large that grandpa had died."

  "The flowers would have wilted," Garini said without a trace of emotion.

  "What?" Emma frowned.

  Carlina smothered a grin. "He means the wedding ceremony would have been canceled."

  Lucio blanched at the thought.

  "So you see, honey, I had to do it."

  "But why did you put him to bed?" Lucio shook his head.

  "Because everybody could see him from the kitchen window." Emma's gaze fell on the rose petals. "Oh, Carlina, did you think of the roses? I love them!"

  "I did." Carlina shrugged. "Though I was too late. You caught me red-handed." She stopped and blushed. "I mean, I didn't have the time to leave the apartment, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise either, that's why I hid in the wardrobe."

  Lucio stared at Carlina. "You hid in our wardrobe?"

  "Amazing family, isn't it?" Garini said to no one in particular.

  "Absolutely." Emma gave Garini a dazzling smile and turned back to her husband. "But when Garini interviewed me, Carlina started to laugh so hard she fell out of the wardrobe, and then you came."

  Lucio opened his mouth and closed it again.

  Garini took Carlina's arm and pulled her with him. "Thank you for your statement. I'll have it typed for you to sign tomorrow." He nodded at Lucio. "Have fun with the roses."

  Carlina was still laughing when the door closed behind them.

  Garini shook his head. "How can you laugh at a time like this?"

  "Don't you think it was funny?" Carlina tried to calm down, but another uncontrollable gurgle broke out of her. "Lucio's face . . . gosh, did you see his face?"

  He smiled.

  "And when Emma said grandpa had dabbled with self-hypnosis until he accidentally killed himself . . . " Carlina held onto the wooden railing so she wouldn't collapse. "I could have shrieked with laughter."

  "You did."

  "Oh, well." Carlina wiped her eyes. "You have to admit it was ingenious."

  "Very." The Commissario regarded Carlina with an odd expression on his face. "Does he really think his wife needs to be protected?"

  Carlina laughed again. She couldn't help it, anything set her off. "Oh, yes. He has no idea she's made of steel, our Emma." She grinned. "He was deceived by the sugarcoated outside. Just like a man." She felt high and giddy after her laughing bout, a bit as if she had drunk too much champagne, though she was stone cold sober. "It's the same with Marco. I don't think he had a clue what his wife was really
like when he married Angela."

  Garini leaned against the railing. "She's a handful, that one."

  "Oh, yes." Carlina took a deep breath. "But beautiful."

  He looked at her. "There are many good-looking women in the Mantoni family."

  Carlina grinned. "And even more that are crazy. My mother thinks every man who marries into our family should be given a medal for courage or something."

  "Does she, though?" The Commissario smiled.

  "Yes." Carlina chuckled. "But don't tell her so. She'll never admit it out loud."

  IV

  "Is he gone?" Emma poked her head around the door to Carlina's apartment.

  Carlina giggled. "Yes. Come in." She hugged her cousin. "You look great! Did you enjoy Africa?"

  Emma returned the hug, then dropped onto Carlina's sofa and stretched out her long legs. She picked an invisible speck of dust from her cream colored chinos while she answered. "Africa was wonderful. It felt like a whole different world."

  "I can imagine." Carlina went to the kitchen with a wistful sigh. "What on earth made you say this thing about grandpa's self-hypnosis? I thought I would die."

  Emma shrugged. "It was a good story. I could tell he wanted to hear something, so I made it up."

  Carlina shook her head. "You're amazing."

  "Do you think you can make us a cup of espresso?" Emma leaned her back against the cushions and drew both her hands through her long mane. "I'm dying for a cup. And while you do it, tell me what happened here. Is it true grandpa was killed?" Her eyes shone.

  "Yes."

  "Wow."

  I wish she didn't look so pleased. But hadn't they all perked up at the idea of a family murder, that day in grandpa's kitchen? Carlina placed the full espresso machine on the fire. "We destroyed evidence when we moved grandpa, and the Commissario thinks we're both suspects."

  Emma shook her head. "He's really fierce, that one, isn't he?"

  "Yes." Carlina leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  "Are you afraid of him?"

  "Hmm."

  Emma laughed. "No, really? Since when have you been afraid of anybody?"

  Carlina sighed. "He's ruthless and immune to charm."

  "Ha." Emma stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "I don't believe in men who are immune to charm. They are a myth, like Santa Claus."

  "Don't underestimate him, Emma." The espresso machine started to gurgle. Carlina turned around and switched off the fire, then poured the black liquid into tiny cups. "When we moved grandpa that day, Emma, did you see anything suspicious? Anything at all?"

  "Nothing." Emma replied without hesitation. "Everything was exactly like always. Too boring for words."

  Carlina brought the cups to the sofa and placed them on the low side table, then she sat in the armchair with the leopard print rug. "I keep thinking and thinking, telling myself I should have noticed some clue."

  "That's stupid," Emma picked up her cup. "You don't have second sight or something."

  "It must have a connection to the bad past stories. I'm sure of that."

  Emma shook her head. "We all know the bad past stories were utter nonsense."

  "I'm not so sure." Carlina took her cup and sipped the espresso. It ran down her throat, hot and strong. "In fact, I have the impression grandpa always took a real event from the past and added something else, something he made up."

  Emma started to laugh. "No, he didn't."

  Carlina narrowed her eyes. "What's so funny?"

  "I just remembered what he said to me."

  "Well?"

  "He said I had too many men at once, and that I only married Lucio because he was the most insistent." She drank from her cup, her eyes glittering with amusement.

  "Did you?"

  Emma sat up straight. "Of course I didn't! I married Lucio because he would jump off a bridge for me. He worships the ground on which I tread."

  Carlina frowned. "He also has a tiny jealousy problem. Weren't you afraid what would happen if grandpa told him about the too many men in your life?"

  "Not at all." Emma finished her espresso. "I know how to handle Lucio."

  "But . . ."

  Emma bent forward and laid a hand on Carlina's knee. "You worry too much, like always. Just relax. It'll blow over."

  Carlina's mouth dropped open. "It'll blow over? Emma, we're talking about a murder here. It will not blow over!"

  Emma shrugged. "Oh, well. But that doesn't mean we have to talk about it all the time, does it? Tell me about Temptation. Did you get that delivery with the yellow feathers on the bra?"

  Chapter 12

  I

  "What can I do for you, Commissario?" Marco got up and shook Garini's hand. "My wife said you would stop by. It's a terrible business, and I will do anything I can to help." His gaze fell on the recorder. "It's no problem if you record everything."

  "Thank you." Garini took the seat Marco had indicated in front of his table. The walls of the office were painted white, but the famous picture of Monet's water lilies covered the free space at one side, softening the effect. From a sink in the corner of the room came a whiff of disinfectant and soap.

  "I understand you've only recently married into the family." Unbidden, Carlina's words jumped into Garini's mind. Every man who marries into our family deserves a medal for courage. He suppressed a smile and tried to concentrate.

  "That's right. I married Angela in June." The young doctor smiled. "We met at the golf club Christmas party."

  "Yes, she told me." Garini didn't want to hear it again. "I would be grateful if you could once again tell me about the morning when you were called to certify Nicolò Mantoni's death."

  Marco nodded. "We were still sleeping when the phone rang."

  "What time was that?"

  The doctor shrugged. "I'm not quite sure. Ten thirty? Eleven? It was Sunday, and we were still in bed because of the wedding the night before." He smiled. "My wife likes to dance."

  Garini stretched out his legs. "I see. Please go on."

  "Fabbiola was on the phone. She was in tears and asked me to come because her father had died. At first, I couldn't believe it. He had seemed like a healthy man."

  "Was he your patient?"

  Marco shook his head. "No. He was a patient of Enrico Catalini. I only started my practice here about a year ago. Fabbiola told me that Enrico had the flu and begged me to come instead."

  I forgot about the family doctor. Stefano frowned. Did Piedro check if the doctor had really been ill? Maybe this illness had been an invention of Fabbiola to get the inexperienced young doctor to sign the death certificate instead?

  Marco looked at his hands, folded on the table in front of him. "At first, I didn't want to go, but it's my wife's family, and Angela said I had to."

  What hold does Angela have over Marco? "Are you in the habit of doing everything your wife says?" Garini didn't take his eyes off Marco's face.

  The young doctor flushed. "Not always. But in this case, I thought it made sense, even if I didn't enjoy it."

  "Go on."

  Marco sighed. "When we arrived, everybody was there. I don't know where they all sprung from. Maybe they stayed over at the house; I have no idea. I checked the body." He swallowed. "I have to admit I didn't find anything unusual." He lifted his dark head and stared at the Commissario with defiant eyes. "Maybe I should have looked closer. But his twin rattled me, hopping around in the background, and then, Nico was an old man, and I had no idea about his condition. Maybe he had a weak heart." He shrugged. "I decided to sign the death certificate and to talk with Enrico Catalini as soon as he was back at work."

  "What happened next?"

  Marco pushed a hand through his dark hair. "I didn't have a pen, so I had to go to the kitchen. They were all there, waiting. Carlina gave me a pen." He smiled. "She's a nice girl."

  He's the second one who says that, but most killers seem nice. Garini shook off his thoughts. "And then?"


  "Just as I was going to sign the death certificate, Uncle Teo charged into the room and told us that something was wrong because his twin was still wearing socks."

  "Didn't that strike you as unusual?"

  "God, no." Marco lifted both hands palm up. "How should I know what he put on when he went to bed? Many old people suffer from cold feet and sleep with socks."

  "Hmm." True enough. But shouldn't a doctor, even one without experience, have recognized the signs that showed the victim had died somewhere else?

  "Did you have a look at his feet while you examined the body?"

  "No." Marco shook his head. "I only uncovered the torso. That's why Uncle Teo didn't see his feet until I had left the room. I assume he straightened the cover, saw the socks, and ran to the kitchen without missing a beat."

  "Go on, please."

  Marco shrugged. "They all went crazy. I admit I felt overwhelmed. Carlina was the only one who was comparatively sane. She said I should sign the certificate without listening to Uncle Teo."

  Garini shifted in his seat.

  "All the others seemed to delight in the situation. I thought they would calm down when I said it would create a scandal if we called the police, but it only energized them."

  I bet. The Commissario nodded.

  "Finally, my wife said we should call in another doctor."

  Once again your wife. I do wonder about your wife, doctor.

  Marco said, "Angela was afraid it would throw a bad light on me if I signed the death certificate with a suspicion of murder. She didn't want me to have anything to do with it, even if the signature meant nothing but pronouncing him dead." Marco fell silent, lost in thought. "To be honest, I wasn't keen on being involved either. I'm new in town, and rumors have a way of getting out of hand." He shrugged. "Then Uncle Teo insisted on calling the police, and the rest you know."

  The Commissario nodded. "You have heard about the bad past stories, haven't you?"

  Marco lifted his head with a sharp jerk. "Bad past stories? What do you mean?"

  Garini narrowed his eyes. "Nicolò Mantoni had a habit of interjecting embarrassing episodes of the past into each family conversation. Haven't you heard about them?"

  "Oh, that." Marco gave a forced laugh. "Yes, I know. He said Uncle Ugo had stolen a camera and Carlina would marry a garbage man because she had rejected a prince."