Delayed Death (Temptation in Florence Book 1)

by boeker, beate

Damn. How could I forget? She had spared her mother the details of that awful interview. Carlina went to the door of the apartment and opened it. "Please."

  "Oh, all right." Fabbiola took a deep breath. "You've always done as you liked anyway." With a regal toss of her head, she swept out of the room.

  When the door had closed behind her, Carlina leaned against it and braced herself.

  "Congratulations." Garini's voice was dry. He came into the living room and handed her another cup of coffee. "Sit down, please."

  Without a word, Carlina accepted the cup and sat on the sofa. "I won't be much help to you, Garini." His last name slipped out before she could stop herself. "My head is a big muddle."

  "I'll take you through everything step by step." He took out the recorder and pointed at it. "All right?"

  Carlina sighed and nodded. "What happened to your assistant?"

  "The flu." He looked as if he made the assistant personally responsible for such an untimely illness. "Tell me everything your great-aunt said." He placed the recorder on the low table and sat on the armchair across from her.

  Carlina looked at her cup. "She came to Temptation this morning and wanted to talk to me. I made her sit on the bar stool because it's the sturdiest chair I have." She smiled. "With her green coat, she looked like a triumphant little nymph when she had managed to climb onto it." A tear ran down Carlina's cheek. She wiped it away.

  "Did she often come to Temptation?"

  "From time to time. She never bought anything, but she came to chat."

  "Was she different this morning?"

  "Yes. She was troubled. She said she knew who the murderer was."

  He sat up straight. "She said that?"

  "Yes." Carlina nodded. "But before she could tell me who it was, she took out one of her infernal garlic cloves and--" She broke off. "She first offered one to me."

  "She offered her cloves to everybody, but there was no danger anybody would ever have accepted one," Garini said.

  Carlina smiled, a sad smile. "I know."

  "Did she give you any clue about the murderer? Male or female?"

  Carlina frowned and tried to recall every word. "I don't think so . . . no. She only said if her theory was right, then many more should be dead. That's why she wasn't sure. She said she would endanger me by telling me."

  "Endanger you?" His eyebrows lifted. "How?"

  "She didn't say. Just by knowing about it, I guess."

  The Commissario frowned. "If she said many more should be dead, and she was wondering about it, then a possible reason could be that the murderer was away in the last weeks."

  Carlina caught her breath. "You mean Emma! She didn't do it." Her cousin's face, twisted with fury at finding Uncle Nico dead, appeared in front of her inner eyes. "No," she repeated. "I don't believe it for one minute."

  "Poison is a typical weapon for a woman," he said.

  She balled her fists. "She didn't do it."

  He put his head to one side and regarded her, his eyes like steel. "No matter who I suggest, you always say it's impossible."

  She wanted to stamp her foot. "It is. It's your job to provide irrefutable proof. Maybe I'll believe you then."

  "Knowing you, I doubt it."

  Was there a glimmer of a smile in his eyes? Carlina looked away.

  "Tell me about your conversation with your great-aunt. Tell me everything, even if you think it doesn't matter and doesn't belong."

  Carlina sighed. "I'm not sure if I remember everything, and if I remember it right. I might have misinterpreted something." She shrugged.

  "I know," Garini said. "I'll count that in." He leaned back and placed one arm across the back of the sofa. "Shoot."

  "She smelled of garlic as always, and she looked worn out. I offered her a glass of water." She clenched her teeth. "With fresh water from the tap. Next, we talked about my water glasses. They're handmade, and I sell them if someone is interested. Suddenly, she said she knew who had killed grandpa. She asked me to close the door."

  He bent forward, his elbows on his knees. "What then?"

  Carlina suppressed a smile. "Then she asked me if I liked you."

  Garini blinked.

  She started to enjoy herself. "I said no. She asked why. I said you were rude, pushed me around, and tried to make me lose control."

  His face didn't betray what he thought.

  "She told me Annalisa felt the same, but that she, Aunt Maria, liked you because you understood weaknesses. She also said you were leading me on, and that I had to look closer."

  Their eyes met. The room was silent. Carlina tried to read his feelings, but his face was shuttered. She felt ridiculous. "Next, she mentioned that bit about more people dying. It chilled me." She fell silent. "She wasn't sure about her theory, because several people knew the secret, and if her theory was right, then they should be dead."

  "Did she tell you who else knew the secret?"

  "No." Carlina swallowed. Now came the hard part. "But she came to Temptation to talk to me out of earshot, to ask my advice." She hurried on, hoping against hope he wouldn't catch the implication. "She wondered if she should share her knowledge with you. I said yes."

  He lifted his eyebrows. "Are you sure of that last bit?"

  She glared at him. "Yes. Aunt Maria was surprised too. Even if I don't like you, I can still think you're good at your job." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "That's what I said, believe it or not."

  "And then?"

  Her face twisted. "Then she pulled out that garlic clove, offered it to me, and put it into her mouth. She turned red and fell off the chair. I took the garlic from her mouth, but I didn't dare to try mouth-to-mouth treatment."

  His gaze never left her face. "Why didn't you think she'd had a heart attack or something like that?"

  Carlina swallowed. "I guess because it happened the very second she started to chew, and because we were just talking about grandpa's murder. Did . . . did she have a heart attack?" Her eyes widened. "Could I have saved her if I had tried?"

  He shook his head. "No. She was poisoned with cyanide."

  "Cyanide?" Carlina stared at him. "Why cyanide?"

  Garini lifted his eyebrows. "It's quick. Why not?"

  "Don't . . don't killers usually stick to one method?" When she saw his gaze sharpen, she hastened to add, "I've read that somewhere."

  "This killer sticks to poison. So far." His words had an ominous ring. "There are exceptions to every rule."

  Carlina felt cold and rubbed her arms. "Is it easy to get cyanide?"

  He watched her, impassive. "It can be extracted from apricot and peach pits. Not easy, but not impossible either."

  Ernesto is the only one in the family who's interested in chemistry. I wonder if Garini knows that? Carlina pressed her lips together. "I see."

  "What happened after your great-aunt fell down?"

  "I called the ambulance. The rest you know."

  "Why didn't you call me?"

  "I thought you'd be informed quickly enough. As you were."

  "Do you still have my number?"

  "Yes." Carlina waved her hand. "It's somewhere around."

  "I want you to program my number into your phone right now."

  Carlina lifted her eyebrows. "Why?"

  "Because I want you to be able to reach me."

  Carlina shrugged. "Fine." She got up and retrieved her handbag from the chair where she had dropped it the night before, pulled out her phone and started to punch in his name.

  "Put me on speed dial," he said. "So I'll be right on top."

  She looked up. "Aren't you exaggerating a bit?"

  He held her gaze. "No."

  "My phone isn't that modern, and your name doesn't start with A."

  "So make something up."

  Carlina threw him a glance and programmed "Aaawful Commissario". Then she held it up for him to see. "Like that?"

  He grinned. "Fine."

  Carlina suppressed a smile. "So tell me your numb
er."

  He dictated it to her.

  She saved it and lifted her head. "Anything else?"

  "Yes." He got up and took something shiny from his jacket. "I've bought you a latch. From what I've seen, you're able to attach it yourself, aren't you?"

  Her chin dropped. "You bought me a bar? To block my door?"

  "Yes. And I want you to fix it right now."

  "But Garini . . . " his last name slipped out before she could stop herself. "That's not necessary. I mean--"

  "You blocked your door today," he said. "Don't tell me you did it because you wanted to sleep in peace."

  She swallowed. "No. I didn't feel safe."

  "Exactly." He nodded. "Now get a drill, will you? The bar will only serve its purpose if it's well fixed into the wall. I also brought the screws and screw anchors."

  When she didn't move, he got up. "Shall I get it? Is it in the bathroom?" An ironic smile played around his mouth.

  She jumped up. "No, it's not. I'll get the drill." She went to the kitchen and retrieved it from a drawer, looked at the screws he held out to her and chose a matching drill bit.

  In silence, she got a pencil, marked the right spots on the wall and drilled the holes. Then she punched in the anchors, placed the latch in the right position, and tightened the screws. Garini's presence made her nervous, but she liked that he didn't offer to fix the bolt. Instead, he passed her whatever she needed without comment. It made her feel that he respected her independence, and because he did, she said, "Try to tighten the screws some more, please."

  He nodded, took the automatic screwdriver from her hand, and tightened them.

  Carlina swallowed. The fleeting touch of his fingers set something alight inside her. She took one step back and lifted her chin. "Tell me something, Garini."

  He turned and looked at her. "What?"

  "Why do you think this bolt is going to keep me safe if the preferred method of murder is poison?"

  Garini didn't reply.

  "Well?"

  "It won't keep you safe," he said. "But it'll make me feel better."

  II

  The next morning, Carlina got up with a gloomy feeling, trying in vain to chase away the memory of her troubled dream. She had seen Ernesto and Uncle Teo in an unknown kitchen, bent over a hot stove with satisfied smirks on their faces. A copper saucepan filled with a green liquid had spewed hot bubbles. Carlina shook herself. Evil. How could such nasty suspicions fill her mind and filter into her dreams?

  The sky was overcast, and a chilling wind came through the open window. She closed it with a shudder. What a day for a funeral. No wonder she had slept with nightmares.

  When she had dressed all in black, she opened her fridge. A bit of yogurt looked at her in challenge. She had not finished it yesterday morning. What if--? Anybody could have had access to her apartment while she was away. Oh, Madonna. She picked up the yogurt with two fingers and smelled it. It smelled as always, a bit sour, milky. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation. She was hungry and could already taste the creamy yogurt combined with grains of sugar, melting on her tongue. But did she dare to? She remembered Garini's eyes, the way he had looked at her just before he had left. So maybe he had feelings after all.

  A rattle at her door made her jump. Something pounded against the wood. "Carlina! Open up!" Her mother's voice.

  Carlina pushed the yogurt back, shut the door of the fridge and ran to the door. "I'm coming!" She slid back the bolt and opened the door.

  Her mother was dressed all in black, her hair pushed back from her face in a tight bun. "Are you ready for the funeral?"

  Carlina nodded. "Almost. I still have to eat something."

  "How can you eat at a time like this, just before we bury your grandfather?" Fabbiola pressed a handkerchief against her lips.

  Great. Now she felt like an oaf. A frightened oaf. "Wait a minute." Carlina decided to take some biscotti which were still wrapped in their original packaging. She returned to the kitchen and got them from the cupboard, then she went to join her mother. "Are we leaving already?"

  "Yes." Fabbiola pulled her jacket closer around her. "Marco offered to drive us. He's downstairs, drinking coffee with Benedetta."

  On their way to the funeral, they were subdued. Angela and Marco sometimes exchanged a few comments, but Fabbiola and Carlina in the back didn't join in the conversation. Carlina tried to steel herself for the ordeal ahead. If only she didn't know that another funeral would follow soon. "You will have many funerals." Garini's words echoed through her. She closed her eyes.

  When she got out of the car, the first person she saw was her ex-fiancé. She caught her breath. Giulio. Giulio Ludovico Eduardo Montassori. She hadn't seen him for years.

  He came up to them and took Fabbiola's hand. "My deepest sympathy, Fabbiola."

  Fabbiola blinked away a tear. "How kind of you to come, Giulio."

  Carlina could tell she still regretted not having him as her son-in-law. Giulio turned to her and took hold of her hand. "I'm so sorry, Carlina."

  "What are you doing here?" She didn't manage to make it sound friendly. "Where's your wife?"

  Giulio frowned. He had aged. His hair had thinned, and a paunch showed above his belt, but his brown eyes hadn't lost their kindness. "Your grandfather was a friend of mine, surely you remember that? As he's dead, I only thought it natural to pay my respects."

  Carlina suppressed a sigh. That was Giulio all over, accepting conventions and following them.

  Fabbiola shot her daughter a look like a dagger. "That's very thoughtful, Giulio."

  He offered her his arm, and together they went up the hill to the church.

  Angela followed with Marco. She hung on his arm like a heavy shopping bag, tottering on her high heels.

  Carlina crossed her arms in front of her chest. At least Giulio hadn't brought his wife. She probed her feelings. It had been a shock to meet him again, but it felt good to see how much he had aged. What an uncharitable thought. Maybe he had thought the same when he had seen her? She bit her lips. What else did she feel? Regret?

  She frowned and slowly shook her head. No. No regret. None at all.

  She smiled. Feeling much lighter, she went up to church with a determined step. As she came inside, the smell of incense combined with gloomy twilight covered her like a suffocating blanket. I don't like churches. The thought came out of nowhere. She felt shut in, cut off from fresh air. If I ever get married, it'll be in the American way, in a garden, with sunlight and flowers all around. Carlina followed her mother to the front, but when she saw Giulio sitting next to Fabbiola, she stopped dead. How dare he? He had nothing to do with the family! Without stopping to think, she slipped into the next pew to her left. She was not going to sit next to Giulio. No way. So busy was she with her angry thoughts that she missed the sermon and only caught the tail-end.

  "Nicolò Alfredo Mantoni was a much beloved man, strong and wise. He was a true family patriarch, and everybody adored him."

  Gag. Who had instructed the priest? Alberta? It sounded just like the kind of drivel she would tell. Carlina crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back. I'm not going to have a funeral service when I die. It's so fake. And it's torture. Her throat tightened, her breathing became harsh, and she felt dizzy. She had to get out of here. She couldn't stand it anymore. She slid out of the pew and went to the door with bowed head, her steps as quick as she could make them without actually running. Thank God all heads were now bowed in prayer. She tried not to make a sound as she pulled open the heavy doors with her last ounce of strength and burst outside.

  Thank God!

  Light!

  Fresh air! She bent forward, her hands on her knees, and took deep breaths. In-Out. In-Out. In-Out.

  A hand fell on her shoulder. "Are you all right?" Garini's voice sounded free of emotion, as always.

  Carlina straightened. "Yes." Maybe straightening as if an elastic had snapped wasn't a good idea. For an instant, everything went black, and she
swayed. She smelled his leather jacket, the faint trace of aftershave, and opened her eyes. He held her arms in a vise-like grip, so she had to stand close to his chest.

  Her eyes focused on the faint scar next to his mouth. "Where did you get that scar?" she asked.

  "What did you eat this morning?" he answered.

  "You know, you always appear out of thin air," she smiled. "Like an apparition. Funny habit, that."

  "Yes, you said so before." He shook her, but gently. "What did you eat this morning?"

  "Nothing." Carlina smiled. She had the impression of floating above the ground.

  "Drink?"

  "Coffee."

  "On your own?"

  "No." Carlina couldn't move, he held her so tight. "I shared a pot with the others before I left."

  "Who were the others?" His light eyes scanned her face.

  "Everybody. We all met in Benedetta's kitchen."

  "Did anybody have a chance to place something into your cup?"

  "You hurt me." She started to feel more down to earth and wondered if it was a good thing. The floating sensation of the last minutes had felt quite nice. Had he answered her question about the scar?

  His grip loosened. "Carlina. Answer me."

  She raised her eyes to his. "Nothing. I paid attention. Nothing in my cup."

  He expelled a breath. "Good."

  She smiled at him. I think you could kiss me now. The thought came out of nowhere. It shocked her out of her dream-like state, and she straightened her back.

  His eyes narrowed. "Why did you feel faint?"

  "I don't like churches," she said. "So dark and fake. Do you like churches?"

  He didn't miss a beat. "No."

  "The priest talked utter rubbish. I couldn't stand it anymore." She frowned. "I'm not a good Catholic."

  He removed his hands. "It could be worse." His face softened. "You need to eat something."

  She nodded and opened her handbag. "I've got some biscotti in my handbag."

  "How providential." He took the package from her and examined it, then handed it back to her.

  She opened it, and they shared a few biscotti.

  The organ boomed out.

  "The service is over," she said.

  "Let's move to the side." He took her arm. "We can join the others from the side, then nobody will notice you left early."