Carlina nodded. That was a likely explanation. She pulled herself up and sat next to Nora, her feet dangling in the water. With a look at Nora's casual t-shirt and shorts, she said, “Do you have time off for lunch now?”
Nora nodded. “Yes. I work early in the morning and also in the evening, but not during lunch hours.” Her face had regained a bit of color. “I've got to go.”
Carlina turned her head to smile at her, then her gaze fell to the print on Nora's t-shirt, and for an instant, everything froze. The sparkling water in the pool stopped moving; the birds fell silent; and even the leaves stopped rustling in the hot summer breeze. She knew that logo. It was a Gothic print with some curlicues, dramatic fangs and a hideous monster with huge claws. Monster IV. The game Ernesto liked to play. Here was the connection she'd been looking for! With a superhuman effort, she managed to suppress a gasp. Was this the girl Ernesto had fallen for? Was this the one he was shielding?
A shiver ran down her spine. If yes, I'm sitting next to the murderer. In my bikini.
Chapter 12
Back at the police station, Garini took the paper and read the name, then he looked up, his face blank. “The gun belonged to Rosari himself?”
“Yes!” Lampone's colorless eyes seemed to glow. “What do you make of that?”
Garini leaned against a table and stared at the piece of paper in his hands with a frown. “There are only two explanations. Either he took the gun himself, expecting trouble, or his wife did. She would be the one with easiest access to the gun.”
Lampone moved his head from side to side. “But he already moved out in January. Do you think he left the gun behind?”
Garini looked up. “You've studied my reports?” There was no other way Lampone could have known that Rosari had moved out in January.
Lampone nodded. “All of them. They're very helpful. I wish they had assigned you to us instead of Pucci when the post was on offer.”
Garini smiled. His own boss, Cervi, never paid a compliment if he could avoid it, and he was surprised how good it felt. The raspberry may not have an eye for dust, but he was a more motivating boss than Cervi, that much was sure. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Yes, it's possible that he left the gun behind, but it's not very likely. From all I've heard so far, it would have been far more in character if he had taken it with him.”
Lampone took a quick turn around the desk. “Okay, let's assume for a moment that he took the gun.”
“We can ask the staff at the hotel if they ever saw it.”
“Yes.” Lampone nodded. “I'll send Ambrosiano to do so as soon as he comes in again. I'm glad he's well again. Pucci, however, has gotten a doctor's confirmation that he'll be sick for a full week at least.”
Garini thought it wise not to comment on that.
Lampone opened his mouth, but before he could speak, there was a knock at the door and a sweaty courier driver rushed in. “I've got a special delivery for you.”
Garini looked at Lampone in surprise. Did they expect an urgent courier delivery?
Lampone shrugged, accepted the red envelope, and signed the receipt, then ripped open the plastic wrapping. “It's from the pathologist.” He unfolded a letter and held it in such a way that Garini could read over his shoulder.
When they had finished, they looked at each other.
“Curious,” Garini blinked.
Lampone nodded. “Very odd.”
They re-read the text, then Lampone scratched his head. “Well, at least we now know that he wasn't drowned in seawater or something. That would have thrown us back no end.”
Garini looked at the thin man in surprise. So he had a sense of humor? “Let me get this straight,” he said. “It says that the victim was a well-fed man in his fifties, healthy and comparatively fit and that the cause of death was a bullet which entered his heart from the front.”
“That's how I read it, too.” Lampone confirmed.
“But the funny thing is that the bullet entered the heart from below and ended up stuck in his heart because it got deflected by a rib.” Garini frowned.
“Correct.”
“Now let me picture this.” Garini crouched down in front of Lampone. “Say you're the victim. And according to the description, the bullet entered at this angle.” He lifted his hand just a bit and pointed it at Lampone. Then he shook his head, perplexed.
Lampone scratched his head again and took up the letter. “You're right,” he said. “Let's assume I'm a watch. My feet are at six o'clock and my head is at twelve. In that case, the bullet entered from an angle of five o'clock, not three, which would be the right angle if someone is shot while he faces the murderer.”
Garini nodded. “This means that the murderer was on his knees or even stretched out on the ground in front of Rosari.”
Lampone nodded slowly. “That would point to self-defense.”
“Which would fit in with Rosari's general character. And it would also fit with the fact that Rosari was killed with his own gun. He may have brought it to the meeting place. There may have been an acrimonious discussion, ending in a tussle. Rosari pulls his gun. The other person tries to wrestle it away from him and falls. At that moment, the gun goes off, and so Rosari accidentally shoots himself.” Garini tapped his fingers on the desk. He had forgotten about the dust in the office as he tried to picture the scene in his mind.
Lampone nodded again. “That's a sound derivation.”
Garini hardly heard him. “But in that case, another piece of the puzzle doesn't fit in.”
“What do you mean?”
“The gun was wiped clean of fingerprints, wasn't it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you picture someone coming into this conversation unprepared--”
“How do you know he or she was unprepared?” Lampone cut in.
“Let's say 'he' for the moment, to keep things easy. We'll keep in mind that it may have been a woman.” Garini rubbed his nose. “I assume that he would have used his own weapon if he'd brought one to the interview. The fact that he lunged for Rosari's gun speaks against that theory.”
“All right, I accept that. Go on.”
“So here is our murderer, surprised into violence. He ends up shooting Rosari – more or less by mistake, in any case in self-defense. Can you imagine someone like that calmly wiping the fingerprints off the weapon and putting it underneath someone else's bed?”
Lampone's eyebrows rose until they almost melted with his white hairline. “You believe Ernesto Santorini is innocent?”
Garini shrugged. He was glad that no Mantoni was within hearing, but he knew that he had to show a sufficiently neutral face now if he didn't want to lose his standing with Lampone. “For now, I'm keeping an open mind. Even if I should accept that Ernesto killed Rosari, I would still like to know why the gun was found underneath his bed. I know Ernesto, and he's way too intelligent to hide the gun where it would directly point to him. In any case I can't see an accidental murderer calmly wiping the gun.”
Lampone frowned. “Maybe we got it all wrong. Maybe it wasn't self-defense. Maybe the murder saw the gun, took it from Rosari, knelt down and shot him in cool blood.”
Garini nodded. “All right, let's go with that scenario. But why should the murderer have knelt down to do that? Why not shoot him while standing?”
“Maybe Rosari kicked him or something, so he dropped to his knees.”
Garini sighed. “Maybe. You know, I really think that someone should have heard something. I can't believe that two men had a violent fight right next to the pool, with the sound carrying so well across the water, besides being in full view of the hotel, and nobody heard anything.”
Lampone looked at him. “You were there.”
“I know.” Garini's mouth was grim. “And I didn't hear a thing. I slept through it all. But I'm going straight to the hotel now, and I'll talk to everyone again. Someone must have heard something.”
Chapter 13
Carlina sat frozen by the pool and st
ared at Nora. It seemed incredible. Was this slight slip of a girl the murderer? This girl, who brought out protective instincts in every man and every motherly woman? Could it be that looks were so misleading? Her head in a whirl, Carlina found it hard to find the right words. “Stay . . . stay a bit,” she forced a smile and held out her hand. “I say, I've seen you before, haven't I? I don't mean at breakfast, but in the years before?”
Nora hesitated. “I've only started working here a year ago.”
“Yes, but you're a local from Forte dei Marmi, aren't you?”
Nora nodded and made a move as if to get up.
Carlina hurried on. “We've been coming here for years. The Mantoni family, I mean.”
“I know.” Nora hunched her shoulders. “I really should go. The hotel management doesn't like it when the staff sits with the guests.”
“The hotel manager won't bother us anymore,” Carlina said with deliberate brutality.
Nora flinched and turned a startled gaze onto Carlina.
Maybe she was just wondering how Carlina could be so unfeeling. Maybe there was more. Carlina's mind raced. How could she get into a real conversation with this timid girl? She was just as closed up as Ernesto had been. Should she try to startle her, so the girl would reveal something? But no, Nora was startled enough. Scaring her wouldn't help.
Suddenly, Carlina knew how to make Nora talk. There was just one possible approach: She had to talk about Ernesto. If her feelings for him were anything as sincere as his for her, she was suffering just as much and would want to know about him.
Carlina looked Nora full in the eye. “Ernesto's unhappy.”
Nora flushed deep red. “Ernesto?”
“My cousin.” She didn't say another word and waited.
Nora's gaze flitted to her and away again, as if she couldn't bear to meet Carlina's eyes for a longer time. She gulped. “Why is he unhappy?”
Carlina hesitated and decided to stretch the truth a bit. “It looks like he'll soon be arrested.”
Nora blanched. “Really? Do . . . do they have proof?”
Carlina blinked. What an odd reaction. She had expected protest or shock, not that hesitant question. She shrugged, feigning casual interest. “Well, it's bad enough that he was close to the pool during the crucial time, but when they found the gun underneath his bed, it--”
“What!” Nora gripped both her arms with unexpected strength.
Carlina flushed. Oh, Madonna! That had been a secret. Nobody knew about it. Stefano would kill her for letting the cat out of the bag. “I'm sorry, I--”
Nora interrupted her. “That's impossible! The gun can't have been underneath his bed! It was underneath the old lady's bed!”
Carlina stared at her.
Misunderstanding her expression, Nora shook her. “The lady in the wheelchair, the one who's deaf!”
The hairs on Carlina's neck stood on end. She was acutely aware that most guests were by now away from the hotel to have a relaxed lunch. She was all alone at the pool, all alone with the murderer. Carefully, she tried to extricate her arms from Nora's death grip, but Nora held on. It started to hurt. The expression in her eyes was bordering on crazy.
“Nora, I--” how she wished her voice didn't shake. She'd meant it to sound soothing, but it came out as a squeak. Had Nora concealed a weapon somewhere on her person?
Nora shook her. “Who said the gun was underneath Ernesto's bed?”
“Commissario Pucci.” Carlina swallowed. It was too late to hold back. “They found it when they searched the hotel.”
Nora pressed her lips together. “Then Pucci must have planted it.”
Carlina gasped. “You're crazy. Why should he do so?”
“To finish the case in record time.” Nora's voice was biting. “I know him; he's a slacker.”
Nora dropped her death grip on Carlina's arms. A determined expression came onto her face. “I have to talk to your boyfriend. He's the one in charge of the case now, isn't he?” She jumped up.
Carlina scrambled up and grabbed her clothes, almost running to keep up. “Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know. But if you go to speak to him, I'm coming, too!”
Nora turned and looked at her. “Why?” Suddenly, there was nothing girl-like about her anymore. She was determined and focused like a dart. Small and sleek and deadly.
Carlina gulped. “Because I shouldn't have told you about the gun, and I'd rather tell him myself about that mistake.”
“Fair enough. Come on.”
They hurried on, with Carlina in the lead now. When she barreled around the corner, she ran straight into someone. Strong arms circled around her, and the familiar smell of Stefano's skin and soap filled her senses. “Stefano.” Something inside her trembled.
He looked down at her, his usual hard face softening. “Have you been swimming? I've been looking for you.”
Nora interrupted them with clenched fists. “I've got a statement to make. About the murder.”
The soft expression in Garini's face vanished like a drop of water in the sun. “Sure.” He nodded toward a pair of wooden chairs in the shade, grouped around a table. They were painted in a faded light green color that made them look like soft summer light. “Shall we sit over there?”
Nora nodded and turned on her heels, leading the way.
Carlina took Stefano's hand and looked up at this face, remembering how she'd felt when she'd first met him. He had reminded her of a hawk with his light eyes, scanning everything, seeing beyond the surface. She knew now that he was nowhere near as hard as he seemed, but for an instant, everything inside her got jittery. She had messed up, and she felt ashamed of her mistake. He would never trust her again. She could have wept.
They sat at the table, and Garini took out his recording device. “Is it all right if I tape this conversation?”
“Yes.” Nora's voice was grim.
“I'd like to say something before you start recording,” Carlina said.
He turned to her with a frown. “Can't it wait?”
She shook her head. “I'm afraid not. You see, I messed up.”
His eyebrows shot up.
Her throat was dry. “I gave Nora a bit of information that was secret. Inadvertently.”
His mouth tightened.
Nora cut in. “I'd like to do my statement, now, please.” She sounded nervous.
Stefano gave Carlina a glance that told her they would talk later, then he focused on Nora. “Go ahead.”
Nora gave him her personal data with a tight, controlled voice, then she said with her jaws clenched, “I'd like to state that Commissario Pucci planted false evidence to incriminate Ernesto Santorini.”
Garini stared at her. “Could you please be more specific?”
Nora nodded. “I was told that Ernesto might be arrested because the gun that killed Signor Rosari was found underneath Ernesto's bed.” She turned huge eyes to him. “Is it correct that he's in danger of being arrested?”
Stefano directed a grim glance at Carlina before turning back to Nora. “I can't answer any questions at this moment. Please go on.”
“I know that the gun wasn't underneath Ernesto's bed. It was underneath the bed of the old lady with the wheelchair.” She turned to Carlina. “I remember the name now. It's your Aunt Violetta.”
“And how do you know that the gun was in her room?” Garini's voice was even.
“Because I put it there.”
For an instant, nobody said anything. Nora sat like a little girl, her feet tucked underneath the chair, her hands clinging together in her lap. It was clear that she was frightened, but it was also clear that she was determined to talk.
“Please elaborate,” Garini said again with no inflection whatsoever in his voice.
Nora lowered her head and spoke in a voice so soft that it was difficult to catch. “I work early in the mornings and late at night. My night shift stops at eleven. I usually go home by taking the path through the garden
.” She pointed in the direction of the pool. “There's a gate further down that leads to the promenade. It's a short cut.” She took a deep breath. “On the night when the murder happened, I was late. I finished around twenty past eleven.”
“Why were you late?” Garini asked.
She twitched. “There was a lot to do because we were booked out for ferragosto. I hurried through the garden. There wasn't much light, but that didn't matter because I know the way by heart, and that's why I don't have to look where I'm going. At the pool, I stumbled over something.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “It was dreadful. I landed on top of it. It felt soft and lumpy. At first, I thought someone had left a pile of clothes, but then I realized that it was a person. The person didn't move. I . . . I didn't know what to do. At that moment, the moon came out, and I recognized Signor Rosari. I was so shocked.”
“Were you sure that he was dead?”
She shuddered. “Oh, yes. His eyes . . . they were open. They stared at me the whole time.” She pressed a fist against her mouth. “Then I saw something blinking in the light. Without thinking, I took it, and then . . .” she gulped. “I realized it was a gun. I almost dropped it.” She stopped talking and stared straight ahead.
“What happened next?” Garini asked.
Nora gave a start. “I didn't know what to do. I was so afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“They . . . they would think that I was the murderer.”
“Why should they think that?” Garini's voice was neutral.
“Because my fingerprints were on the gun! And maybe I even had blood on my shirt! I had fallen straight across him. I didn't know! I wasn't thinking clearly, and I only wanted to get away.”
“So what did you do?”
“I wiped the gun on my shirt to take away my fingerprints. And then I tiptoed to the room of the old lady. It was the nearest, and the door stood open.”
Carlina lifted her head in surprise.
Stefano gave her a warning glance.
Nora didn't notice. “I threw the gun inside. And then I ran home. I did have blood on my shirt, so I cut it into little pieces and flushed it down the toilet.”
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