Delayed Death (Temptation in Florence Book 1)

by boeker, beate

  "Are you Angelo Soccio?" Stefano had trouble keeping the disbelief from his voice.

  "I am." The man in front of him inclined his head. He was broad enough to hide three men, standing side-by-side, behind him. It was a wonder that the modern plastic chair in light green managed to support his weight.

  "I'm Stefano Garini. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice." Stefano pulled out a chair and sat opposite the massive man. He had trouble imagining Angelo Soccio as a young man, as the boyfriend of Fabbiola Mantoni.

  A group of boisterous students burst through the door and filled the cafeteria. It suited Stefano, as he knew it would be hard for anybody to overhear his conversation with Mr. Soccio.

  Signor Soccio leaned forward. "You wish to talk to me about Fabbiola, you said?"

  Garini nodded. "I'm investigating the murder of her father."

  Again, Signor Soccio inclined his head. "I've heard about it."

  Stefano hesitated. He didn't know how to put his question in a way that would make him get at the truth without deviations.

  Signor Soccio winked. "Ask me anything you like, Commissario. I don't get bent out of shape easily."

  I can believe that. Garini smiled. "Thank you. My question is quite easy, even if a bit delicate."

  "A delicate question, you say?" Soccio regarded Garini with a hint of amusement in his blue eyes.

  "Yes." Garini took a deep breath. I have to jump right in. "Is it possible that Carlina, Fabbiola's eldest, is in reality your daughter instead of Paul Ashley's?"

  Soccio's mouth fell open. His massive hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed again. He cleared his throat. "I have to congratulate you, Signor Garini. This is the first time in many years that someone has rendered me speechless."

  Stefano laughed. "That wasn't my goal. Quite the contrary." He didn't take his eyes off the man in front of him. "The idea never crossed your mind?"

  Soccio took a deep breath. "Never." He pulled out a white handkerchief and mopped his brow. "How on earth did you get that idea?"

  "Her grandfather hinted at it before he died."

  Soccia frowned. "He did? How strange. He never said a word to me."

  "But it would be possible?"

  Soccio frowned. "I was going out with Fabbiola for over a year, when the American came to work in Florence for the summer. He was the son of a friend of my boss, that's why he was invited to work with us as a trainee."

  "You both worked as architects, didn't you?"

  "Yes." Angelo looked into the distance.

  Garini doubted that he saw the the beauty of the dome against the backdrop of rose-tinted sky. Soccio's mind was firmly rooted in the past.

  "I took him with us one night, when we went dancing." He grimaced. "They took one glance at each other, and from then on--" He interrupted himself with a sigh. "It was as if I didn't exist anymore."

  Garini didn't say anything.

  "The American came later, to apologize. He said it was fate." A harsh laugh came from him. "Ha. Fate. What do they know about fate?" He shrugged. "Four weeks later, she followed him to America. Oh, I was angry. Very angry. I talked to her father; we all tried to talk her out of it. But she wouldn't listen."

  "When was that?"

  "September 14," Soccio said without hesitating.

  Stefano swallowed. "Carlina was born in March."

  "March, eh?" Soccio shook his head in disbelief. "You know, I can't believe she's mine. She never liked me."

  "You got to know her after they came back?"

  “Yes.” Soccio leaned his head to one side. "Maybe Fabbiola would have married me if Carlina hadn't made it clear she hated the idea. Fabbiola is a devoted mother. She always adored her kids."

  "From what I gather, the feeling is mutual." More's the pity.

  Soccio made a wide move with his hands. "Oh, that's the Mantonis for you. The whole clan is like one giant ball of chewing gum. You have one, you have them all. You can't detach them from each other." He squinted at the Commissario. "It takes courage to marry into that clan. I had it once. Don't know about today."

  "I see." Stefano regarded him for a moment. "But theoretically, Carlina could be your daughter, is that right?"

  Soccio started to shake with silent laughter. "Theoretically, yes. But she would hate to know that." He looked at Stefano with misgiving. "We never told her that I was . . . an old friend. You won't share that, will you? I treasure my comfort, and that girl, she's quite a handful."

  "I won't tell her," Stefano said, "unless I have no other choice."

  VI

  Annalisa's teacher was so tall, his hair brushed the door frame above him. He looked around the Café Duomo like a skinny rabbit expecting a wolf to jump out of the bushes.

  Stefano got up and went to him. "Are you Giuseppe Auguri?"

  The young man nodded. His short hair was bleached blond and his nose covered with pimples.

  Stefano offered his hand. "I'm Commissario Garini of the homicide department."

  Again, Signor Auguri cast an anxious glance around the café, but he took Stefano's hand and shook it without enthusiasm.

  "Let's sit over there." Stefano indicated a small table to the left. He waited until the young man had taken a seat before he continued. "You taught Annalisa Santorini algebra and mathematics at school, is that correct?"

  "Yes." His voice was low, almost a whisper.

  Garini bent forward to hear him better.

  A whiff of whiskey came from the young teacher.

  "Was she a good pupil?"

  "She was all right."

  "What do you mean by all right? Could you be a little bit more specific?"

  The young man cast a haunted look around the room. "I mean she was . . . all right. Not too bad."

  Obviously, he had not done his masters in linguistics. I wonder how he survives in class. "But she finished her final exam with a top grade, didn't she?"

  Auguri nodded.

  "Weren't you surprised?"

  The young man shook his head. It seemed he had given up on speaking altogether.

  A waitress managed to fight her way through the overcrowded tables and stopped next to them. "Signori? What can I do for you?"

  Couldn't she have come some minutes later? "I'll have a panino with prosciutto, please." Garini said. "And a coffee."

  "And you, Signor?"

  Auguri pursed his lips. "Un Grappa, per favore."

  She nodded and whisked away.

  Garini bent forward. "Why not?"

  "Huh?" Pale-blue eyes stared at him.

  "Why weren't you surprised?" Stefano found he was speaking more slowly than normal. "'Wasn't it unusual for Annalisa to be brilliant in mathematics?"

  "Uh."

  Stefano clenched his teeth. If Auguri made another nonsensical sound, he was going to strangle him. An owl was more eloquent than this species. He tried a different approach. "Did you ever suspect foul play when Annalisa finished with a top mark?"

  Auguri shook his head.

  "Why not?" Stefano shot out the question. I want to shake him.

  The teacher made a vague move with his hands. "Nerves."

  "Nerves?" Garini blinked. "Can you explain this to me? In a whole sentence, please?"

  The young man pushed a hand through his bleached hair. He opened his mouth and closed it again, then opened it again like a fish desperate for air. "Sometimes nerves can bring you to unexpected heights."

  I am reaching unexpected heights right now. Garini pressed his lips together. Unexpected heights of rage. "That was how you explained it? Nerves?"

  "Uh."

  The waitress appeared out of nowhere and dropped their dishes on the table. "Here you are." She disappeared again before they could reply.

  Auguri lifted his glass, opened his mouth wide, and downed the Grappa with one experienced twist of his wrist. He didn't meet Garini's gaze.

  Garini wolfed down his sandwich without taking his gaze off the young teacher. I can't believe Annalisa would e
ver start an affair with him. How on earth did Nico come up with that story? He took a deep breath. Nothing for it, he had to try the brutal approach. "Did you have an affair with Annalisa Santorini?"

  The young man's face exploded into an intense lilac hue. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

  That's it. I've done it. He's blown a fuse; he'll never speak another word for the rest of his life. Garini curbed his impatience. "I'm sorry I have to ask you, but I need to know. If it has nothing to do with the case, I'll never mention it anywhere."

  Auguri sat like a rabbit frozen with fear, his eyes fixed on Garini as if pleading not to bite him too hard.

  "Did you?"

  Auguri shook his head. "Uh-u."

  Aha. Uh-u seemed to mean no. They were getting somewhere with their owl-talk. "No?"

  "Uh."

  Garini clenched his teeth. "I need a clear answer, Signor Auguri. Can you please tell me the truth in one sentence? If you don't answer me, we might sit here until midnight."

  That got him. Auguri opened his mouth like a fish in panic. "I didn't have an affair with Annalisa!"

  "All right." Garini got up and slapped some money on the table to cover the bill. "Thank you for your time, Signor Auguri."

  He left the café with rage boiling inside him. Another evening wasted. Another dead end. Damn.

  VII

  "Looking for anything special, Commissario?"

  Her voice made him jump. He turned on the balls of his feet, his hands deep inside the pockets of his trousers. It was Carlina. Of course. Who else? "No." Attack is the best form of defense. "Where are you coming from this late at night?"

  She came closer. In the weak light coming from the unshuttered window above, she looked smaller than usual. For once, she wasn't wearing jeans but a short skirt and a jacket. "Is that question part of the murder investigation?" she asked.

  "Yes." An unknown feeling of protectiveness rose inside him. He suppressed it. This woman does not want to be protected.

  She leaned against the wall of the house and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not sure if I should believe that, but I'll answer it anyway. I'm coming from a meeting at the town hall, where the wife of the mayor presented a new project to support the businesswomen of Florence." She cocked her head to the side. "And you, my dear Commissario, are trying to see how to get access to our house by way of the balcony, if I'm not very much mistaken."

  He mirrored her posture. "How acute, Signorina Ashley."

  "You won't find it," she said.

  He lifted an eyebrow. "No? Why not?"

  "Because," she laughed, "it's a Mantoni thing."

  Her laugh was low and soft, and did something to him he didn't want to analyze.

  She walked up to him.

  A hint of her alluring scent made him wish she would come even closer. He stood rooted to the spot.

  Carlina smiled. "I'll show you."

  "Why?"

  She froze. "Why?" She sounded stunned.

  "Yes, why? Why should you help the police?"

  She shrugged. "Why shouldn't I?" She gave him a challenging glance. "I've got nothing to hide." She came closer. "Could you step to the side, please? You're right in front of the stone."

  "What stone?" He wanted to wait until she was close enough to touch him, but he forced himself to step to the side.

  "This one." She looked up and down the street, checked the windows, then bent with one fluid move and pulled out a loose stone just above the ground. It was the size of a brick, flat and rectangular. "Don't tell anybody." An impish smile, a hop, and she stood on the window sill of her grandfather's kitchen, the toes of her high-heeled shoes between two iron bars. Carlina stretched and inserted the stone into a hole at the side of the window, then used it as a stepping stone.

  Garini narrowed his eyes. It looked as if she accessed the house every night via the balcony. With one more step, she reached a decorative ledge high above him. Now she already had one hand on the balcony railing. Instead of climbing across the balcony railing, however, she turned around and returned the way she had come, more slowly now.

  As she stepped on the brick, she lost her balance. Arms flailing, she slithered the last meter and fell in front of his feet.

  He steadied her. Her arms felt warm and soft. She was so close, he could smell the fragrance of her hair, the delicate scent of her skin. What would happen if he bent down and kissed her? He felt himself going hot. Steady, Stefano. She's a suspect. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to drop his hands. Not trusting himself, he took a step back.

  "Sorry," Carlina said out of breath. "I've never gone down, only up."

  It took all his concentration to ask a question that made sense. "Why didn't you go inside and come back through the front door?"

  She grinned. "Because I won't climb over that railing in a skirt if someone's watching. Besides, the door of the balcony needs to be open."

  He shook his head. "Risky. What if Benedetta closes it when you're gone?"

  "No problem. Then I call someone inside the house and ask them to open the door. Anybody but my mother or aunt, that is."

  He regarded her. "I see. Did you do it often?"

  "Hmm. Not as often as Emma, Ernesto and Annalisa. Benedetta is an anxious mother."

  "And your mother isn't?"

  Carlina hopped onto the window sill again and retrieved the stone. "She is, but officially, I always stayed the night with my friend Rosanna. She has very lax parents." She returned the stone to its hiding place.

  "Who created this . . . side entrance?"

  "I have no idea." Carlina shrugged. "The knowledge has been passed on within the Mantoni family for ages. A cousin showed it to me when I turned fourteen."

  "And you taught your cousins."

  "Sure."

  "Weren't you afraid of waking someone?"

  Carlina giggled. "Oh, no. Benedetta wouldn't even wake up if you started a tap dance next to her bed."

  "Then why didn't you use the front door?"

  She laughed.

  It was more a giggle, coming from deep inside her, sounding carefree and fun. He couldn't get enough of it.

  "Because grandpa always closed the front door by midnight and left the key stuck on the inside. He was convinced that you can't force open a lock if the key is stuck. He also believed that ninety percent of all break-ins are done after midnight."

  "He was wrong." Garini shook his head. "What happened if an adult returned after midnight?"

  "Oh, they had to ring the bell. I always used the balcony and called Annalisa or Ernesto. Grandpa turned grumpy when you woke him."

  He looked at her. "That reminds me of something. Did you teach Emma too?"

  Carlina nodded.

  "What other mischief did you do with her?"

  Her eyes widened. "Mischief? Nothing out of the ordinary. Who told you that?"

  "Benedetta."

  She grinned. "Oh."

  Madonna, this was difficult. When she grinned like that, her cat-like eyes shining, he wanted to--

  He interrupted his train of thought and narrowed his eyes. "Come on, share the secret with me."

  Her grin broadened. "I hadn't thought of that story for ages. One summer, Emma decided to go swimming in the middle of the night. She had a boyfriend with a very fast car at the time, and they drove all the way to the coast to go swimming." She bit her lips to suppress her laughter. "Unfortunately, while they were in the water, her clothes were stolen. She came back, dressed in nothing but her bikini, at four in the morning. That night, Benedetta had some sort of stomach problem which kept her awake. She closed the balcony door during the night, but she never checked Emma's room, thank God. So when Emma came and found the door closed, she rang me. I went to Benedetta's kitchen to let her in, and just as Emma had stepped inside, her mother tottered in with a hot water bottle."

  "Sounds like fun."

  Carlina shook with laughter. "Benedetta asked what on earth we were doing, and Emma came
up with a wild story about a bet going on between us, a bet that involved getting dressed in a bikini and dancing in the kitchen in the middle of the night."

  "She's good at inventing wild stories, that one."

  Carlina stopped mid-laugh and gave him a sharp look.

  He pointed at the wall. "Aren't you afraid that one day, someone will use that knowledge to break into the house? I assume half the population of Florence knows by now how to use that stone."

  She shrugged. "We remove it when we go on vacation."

  He shook his head. "Has it ever occurred to you that your family is a bit . . . out of the ordinary?"

  "Or, they're as crazy as drunken hens." Carlina smiled. "That's why I love them."

  Chapter 13

  I

  "Good morning, Piedro." Garini frowned. Piedro looked like an old t-shirt, crumpled, white with a dirty rim, and out of form. "Did everything work out last night?"

  "Ugh." Piedro sank into the chair in front of Garini's desk.

  I hope he won't start owl talk with me. "Any trouble at the Internet café?"

  "No." Piedro shook his head, then winced.

  "Did you drink?" Garini's heart sank. If he drinks on the job, I'll have to tell Cervi.

  "No. Stiff neck."

  "Good."

  "What?" Piedro's eyelashes fluttered, but in spite of his effort, his eyes remained half-closed.

  "Nothing." Garini bent forward. "Did you see Ernesto?"

  "Yeah. He stayed all night at the café." Piedro sat up straighter and swayed.

  "Were you offered anything suspicious? Any mention of drugs?"

  "Monster slasher. Black spider."

  Garini frowned. He'd never heard of these drugs before. "Piedro." He made sure his voice sounded like a whip. "Get up."

  Piedro sat motionless. A faint snore came from his mouth.

  Stefano went around the desk and hauled Piedro to his feet. "Now tell me again. What drugs?"

  Piedro's eyes rolled back. "No drugs. Game. Game all night."

  "Nothing but a game?"

  "Yeah."

  Garini shook him. "Sure?"

  "Yeah."

  "All right." Garini dropped him and took out his wallet.

  Piedro sank into his chair like a balloon without air.