Before her determined relative could hold her back, Carlina hurried down the corridor, pulling Stefano with her. When they reached the haven of their room, she closed the door behind her with a bang and turned the key for good measure. Then she leaned with her back against it and faced Stefano across the room. Her words were a challenge and yet, full of fear. “Do you think Ernesto killed him?”
He didn't bat an eye. “I'm not sure.”
Carlina took a deep breath. “Neither am I. Just an hour ago, I would have sworn that he could on no account have had anything to do with the murder, but his behavior is--” she broke off, looking for a word.
“Suspicious.” Stefano supplied.
“Yeah, suspicious. And I couldn't believe it when that stupid Pucci said he'd found the gun underneath Ernesto's bed. It doesn't look good.”
“No.”
She stared at him. “But Ernesto is so gentle. He's not the boxing type, not the typical alpha male who has to prove his worth by showing off.”
Stefano gave her a crooked smile. “Is that what alpha males are doing? Showing off by murdering people?”
“Let's not get distracted by a side issue.” Carlina returned the smile, but her heart was heavy. “Why doesn't he trust us? What on earth happened last night? He's like a different boy. Or man, whatever.” She bit her lower lip. “You know, until now, I've always thought of Ernesto as a boy. But now, I'm not so sure. There's something very . . . very adult about him.”
Stefano sighed. “If you mean that he's covering for someone, and if you mean that this is adult behavior, then I agree.”
Her eyes widened. “Of course, you're right! He's covering for someone. But whom? He has to be very attached to that person. Could it be Benedetta?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Can you see your aunt shooting someone?”
Carlina hesitated. “If it's to protect her children, then yes.”
“But in that case, she would come forward now. She'd never let Ernesto take the blame for something she's done.”
“That's true. How about his sisters? Emma?”
Stefano shrugged. “If it's Emma he's sheltering, I wonder why Lucio isn't involved. He's usually the first to protect his wife. However, I don't see any strange behavior in either Lucio or Emma.”
“Then it must be Annalisa.”
Garini made a wry face. “Annalisa wouldn't come forward to clear her little brother.”
Troubled, Carlina looked at him. “Oh, yes, she would.”
“Would she? Sometimes, my love, I think that you see your family in a way too rosy light.”
She swallowed. “Annalisa has not behaved in any conspicuous way either so far. In fact, she's astonishingly normal.”
“Which is conspicuous in itself,” he pointed out. “But I doubt that Pucci will, even for a moment, entertain that someone besides Ernesto can be the murderer.”
Carlina balled her fists. “Oh, how I wish that you were the one to investigate this case and not that fat, good-for-nothing Commissario Pucci.”
Stefano smiled. “That's the first time you've wanted me on a case involving your family.”
“Because I know you're fair! And correct. You don't accept the easiest solution just because it'll cause less work.”
He bowed. “Thanks for the flowers. But you are aware that my investigating this case would once again put a strain on our relationship, aren't you? The family is not amused when I treat them like suspects.”
She swallowed. “Never mind. I believe that you will find the truth.” Something inside her cracked, and she ran into his arms. “Please take the case.”
His arms tightened around her, and he sighed. “I'll see what I can do.” He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her skin, combined with the faint summery fragrance of dried grass that came through the open window. It felt good to be alone with Carlina, and he cherished being close to her, but he was also afraid of the way this case could develop. And how could he butt in on a case out of his jurisdiction?
Stefano's cell phone rang. With regret, he let go of Carlina and pulled the phone out of the pocket of his jeans, then looked at the display and raised his eyebrows. “Speaking of the devil. It's Cervi.”
Carlina opened her eyes wide. “I thought your boss had promised not to call you?”
Stefano held the buzzing phone in his hands, reluctant to answer it. Cervi had a tendency to call at strange times, and Stefano had made it a habit to ignore the calls whenever he felt it necessary, but this time was different. He had a feeling that this was about Ernesto, and if it was, he would be doing Carlina's cousin a big disfavor by not answering. With another sigh, he clicked on the green sign. “Pronto.”
“Why does it take you so long to answer your phone?” Cervi didn't bother with a conventional greeting.
“It's the middle of the night on ferragosto.” Garini made sure his voice remained even. “And I'm on vacation.”
“A policeman can never be on vacation when he's needed.” His voice was so loud that it boomed from the receiver.
Garini suppressed a sigh. Should he ask which seaside resort Cervi was calling from? No. Better not. If it was about Ernesto, he needed all the help he could get. “What can I do for you, Signor Cervi?” He held the receiver away from his ear to avoid being deafened by the answer.
“You'd better ask what I can do for you! Is it true that the Mantoni family got once again mixed up in murder?”
Carlina, who could understand every word without difficulty, crossed her arms in front of her chest and lifted her eyebrows in as arrogant a look as she could manage with her cat-like eyes. It was quite impressive.
Stefano gave her an apologetic shrug. “It looks like it.” He kept his voice light and dry.
“Madonna!” Cervi made an explosive sound with his tongue. “Can't you break them of that habit?”
Carlina blinked.
“I'm doing my best.” Stefano placed his finger over his mouth and smiled at her.
“Which is getting us exactly nowhere.” Cervi sounded annoyed. “You've got to try harder.”
Yeah, sure. “Absolutely.” It was high time to bring his boss down to the facts. “Could you let me know why you're calling?”
“I'm calling to bring you good news,” Cervi said.
Carlina gave out a sudden giggle and whispered, “He's mistaking himself for a Christmas angel.”
Cervi continued, “You were chosen to take over the case.”
Garini exhaled slowly. This was exactly what he had wanted, but it wouldn't do to show his sentiments at this point, so he feigned surprise. “What? But I--”
“You were the first at the scene of the crime, so you're in an ideal situation to investigate.”
“That's true.” Garini gave a terse nod.
For an instant, only silence came through the phone. Then Cervi said. “Something's off here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You're missing your cue.”
“Excuse me?”
“At this point in the conversation, you usually point out that you've got a personal connection to the main suspect. What about it?”
Garini rallied quickly. “I don't see the need to point this out to you any longer. After all, you're aware of it.”
“Yes, but I'd like you to protest some more.”
Garini blinked. Had he heard his boss correctly? “Protest? Why should I protest?”
“Because if you protest and don't want to take the case, then I know that you'll do your utmost to stick to the truth. If you're now suddenly developing meek characteristics, that looks very fishy. Very fishy indeed, Garini. What's going on over there at that seaside hotel that I don't know of?”
Darn. Cervi was easily blinded by status and rank, but he also had the occasional cunning streak that hit straight into the center. “I am not at all happy to take over a case that involves the Mantoni family,” Garini began.
“Ah, that sounds more like you,” Cervi said. “I'm feeling
better already.”
“But in this case, I'd be happy to do so. I'm not sure if you happen to know Commissario Pucci, the investigative officer in this case?”
“Yeah, I know him,” Cervi said in an off-hand voice. “Worst-dressed policeman in the country. I don't know why he never manages to stuff his shirt into his trousers. There's another thing I should mention. You've got to understand that you're called in as the expert, to help the local police.”
“To help . . .” Garini choked. “Are you telling me that I'll have to take orders from that . . .” he swallowed the word on his tongue, “from Commissario Pucci?”
“Now don't get all heated up. A complaint was lodged against Commissario Pucci. He won't make trouble.”
“An official complaint?”
“Yes. That iron headed Domenico Rulo called me half an hour ago. On the night of ferragosto! I don't know what the world is coming to, with people calling you on any day of the year. There's no respect anymore. I don't even know where he got my cell phone number! He--”
“Did Rulo lodge the complaint?” Garini interrupted.
“Yes, he did. Something about highly irregular behavior. He also said you called him onto the case. I couldn't believe my ears. What on earth were you thinking, getting that guy involved? I thought you were arch enemies.”
“I figured he might be useful.”
Cervi snorted. “You must have gone crazy. Probably too much sun down by the seaside. I think vacations aren't good for you. They turn your head. Make the brain go mushy and soft. You'd best stay out of the sun and apply yourself to work. You're to report to the police station bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“I'll be there.” Garini clenched his teeth. Gone was the prospect of a few carefree days with Carlina. But on the other hand, this was what he'd wanted. It was better if he was in the driver's seat than to sit on the side and watch, helplessly, while someone bungled up the case and arrested Ernesto.
“You'll have to talk to Pucci's boss. I want you to solve that case of the murdered hotel manager immediately. It shouldn't take you long, after all, you know everybody involved. Pucci said it's an easy case.”
“Pucci is an idiot.”
“That may be. When the complaint arrived, Pucci's boss had a talk with him, and they decided to call you in. He, too, called me ten minutes ago. I'm quite fed up already with all these people demanding my time on ferragosto. So make sure you represent us well and don't bring shame on our department. And don't call me unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm relying on you.” Cervi hung up.
Carlina looked at Stefano. “Gosh,” she said. “Have I ever told you how happy I am being my own boss?” She went up to him and hugged him.
He returned the hug, but his mind was on the case. “Let's go to bed.” With an effort, he released her. “I'll have to get up early tomorrow morning.”
She nodded. “All right. I'm bushed, too. All these emotions and the sun and the wind . . .” She looked at him. “Thank you for taking on this case, Stefano. I'll do everything to help.”
A faint chill ran down his back. He wasn't going to admit it to her, but her offer of help scared him more than a threat would have done.
Chapter 7
Carlina woke with a start. It was pitch dark. Her heart beat hard against her ribs, and her skin felt clammy. What had woken her? A dream? A shout? A shot? More fireworks?
Stefano had his arm around her, and she could hear him breathing. So soothing, so familiar. How she loved to be curled against him like a spoon, to be safe in his arms.
But tonight, snuggling against him didn't help. Her uneasiness grew. Something was wrong. She stretched out her hand and managed to pick up her phone from the nightstand without disturbing Stefano. The greenish light of the display showed her the time. Half past three. The darkest hours of the night, when things looked black, even on the night of ferragosto.
She slipped out from underneath Stefano's protective arm and left the bed. The tiled floor felt cool beneath her naked feet, and the current of air that came from the open window made her shiver in her sleep shorts and filmy top. Stretching out a hand, she grabbed her blue sweatshirt which she had left lying on the comfortable chair next to the window. She pulled it over her head and leaned against the window sill to look out.
At first, she couldn't see anything. The moon was only a thin sliver of silver tonight, obscured by veiled clouds that hung beneath it like gauze. Then her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and she could make out the shimmer of water in the pool, the white canvas of the umbrellas, closed now, like a row of mannequins dressed in voluminous clothes all around the pool. Yesterday, a man had been killed there.
The soft breeze brought a hint of tang and salt in the air, mixed with the delicate fragrance of lavender. It also brought a very soft murmuring of the waves. Otherwise, it was silent. Behind her, Stefano's quiet breathing continued, undisturbed. Somewhere, a cicada sang. It sounded sad and lonely. Where were its companions? Who did the cicada sing for?
Carlina shook her head. This wasn't the time for maudlin thoughts. What had woken her up? She grabbed the frame of the window and leaned farther out. Her uneasiness grew. Maybe she should wake Stefano. He would gather her into his arms and would murmur a few comforting words, and the bad feeling would go away. She was just overreacting because of all the horrible events they had had to endure.
She took a calming breath, drawing it in until she could feel her stomach expand, then she turned away from the window. But just at that instant, a movement down in the garden caught her eye.
She stiffened and turned back. Someone was in the garden. Now she could hear a soft tread. Who was there?
She narrowed her eyes and bent forward.
The dark figure in the garden went past the pool, deeper into the garden.
He passed the shed where the cushions were stored. The motion detector switched on the single bulb above the shed with a click so loud that it made Carlina jump.
The person by the shed jumped too, away from the light, but not before Carlina recognized the bright red hair. It was Ernesto.
Carlina gulped. What was Ernesto doing out there in the garden in the middle of the night? In a rush, she remembered his strange behavior. Ever since the murder, he had been pale and subdued. She had thought that it was due to him being the prime suspect. Now she wondered. What was he hiding? Had he said the truth about meeting people down by the sea and staying with them? A cold hand squeezed her heart. She didn't want Ernesto to be guilty. Of anything.
Without hesitating, she slipped into her sneakers, took the key to the room, and went to the door. Stefano wasn't moving. Better let him sleep. With him being in charge now, he could not officially overlook any irregularities. She first had to find out what was bugging Ernesto, and then, she could decide what to share with Stefano.
As she pulled the door to behind her without a sound, she was conscious of a guilty feeling. It wasn't like her to have secrets from Stefano. She didn't like it. But then, she didn't have a secret. Yet. She was only trying to find out what her young cousin was doing in the middle of the night in the hotel's garden. She hurried down the stairs and exited through the front door, then went around to the side of the building, avoiding the gravel path.
Just before she reached the shed, she made a detour to avoid the motion detector, then she stopped and listened.
The lone cicada was still singing. The sea was murmuring.
Otherwise, nothing.
She held her breath because it was too loud in her ears.
Where was Ernesto?
Then she heard it. Footsteps, further down in the garden.
She hesitated. It was even darker down there, below the olive trees. Following her ears and straining her eyes to catch every little light, she carefully stepped forward. The earth beneath the olive trees was baked hard from the sun and didn't yield. It didn't make a sound, either. Good. As long as she avoided little branches, she would be safe. She kept to the trees
and crept forward, all senses alert.
Where was Ernesto heading? There was nothing here but the high stone wall that encircled the property. Was he meeting someone here, where nobody could hear or see him?
Her heart in her mouth, Carlina continued on her way.
The sudden shriek of a bird in the branches right above her made her jump into the air. Gosh. Maybe she should have woken Stefano up after all. Maybe someone was creeping up behind her even now, coming closer. A murder had occurred right here, only a few steps away. What was she thinking? She hesitated, ready to turn around. This was foolish and dangerous.
A sudden sound reached her ears -- a soft metallic click. Was that a gun?
Her heart reacted like a racehorse and bolted at top speed, but her feet were frozen.
Was there someone else in the garden? Was someone aiming a gun at her right at that moment, even though she couldn't see him?
She gasped for air. Maybe she should throw herself to the ground, so the bullet would go past when it came, inevitably?
The clicking sound came again, and at that instant, Carlina recognized it for what it was: A door was falling back into its lock. She sagged in relief as she suddenly remembered that there was indeed a door in the high stone wall, a sort of back entrance into the garden. It was only a slim wrought-iron door that gave people access to a footpath which led right through the garden and up to the hotel.
She'd thought it was locked. She'd thought it was only used by hotel personnel. Apparently, Ernesto had that key, and she had first heard the unlocking of the door and then, the door closing behind him again.
She felt her way forward until she reached the wrought iron door. The knob felt cool beneath her touch, but when she turned it, the door opened with the exact click she had heard. She slipped through and pressed herself against the wall. Good thing she had put on a dark sweatshirt.
A little bit further down, a street lamp illuminated the street. Ernesto had just reached the edge of its cone of light. His red hair was flaming, and he was wearing a white t-shirt that showed clearly in the night. He was heading toward the promenade with long strides.
temptation in florence 05 - seaside in death Page 7
