Garini nodded. “I agree with everything you say, and if you'd asked me yesterday, I would have said that I'm seriously worried about Ernesto. However, today, I talked to him, and he told me everything. He didn't hold anything back; I am sure of that. And he kept saying that he didn't kill Rosari – something he'd claimed right from the beginning. Besides, he was so relieved that Nora didn't do it, he was almost giddy with happiness.” He shook his head. “So no, I really don't think that he did it.”
“All right.” Lampone pulled a file toward him and absentmindedly wiped the dust from its cover. “Let's look at the other suspects. Of course, everything we said for Ernesto is also valid for Nora.” He gave Garini a shrewd glance. “How do you feel about that?”
Garini sighed. He was starting to feel like an idiot, but it couldn't be helped. “I can't picture Nora doing it,” he said. “Not after having talked to her today.”
“She had a strong motivation, though,” Lampone said.
“Yes, I'm aware of that, but the fact that they both kept thinking the other had done it speaks for their innocence.”
“Are you sure they suspected each other?”
“Oh, yes.” Garini nodded. “I've never seen Ernesto as down as these last days. In fact, I think that Rosari's wife is a more likely suspect. Our case against her is just as strong as the case against Ernesto and Nora. She had a very strong motive – not only the divorce but also the life insurance.”
“Besides, she was on the spot – and she lied to you about that.”
Garini winced. “I'm not sure if we can rely on the testimony of the coffee shop owner.”
Lampone looked surprised. “Really? Why not?”
Garini swallowed. “I had an impression . . .” drat it all, he had to admit it, “that the Mantoni family helped Signora Agatha remember that particular detail of the night.”
Lampone stared at him. “They wouldn't.”
“You don't know them.” Garini gestured at the files in Lampone's hand. “Did Ambrosiano manage to find more eye witnesses for the night of the murder? Someone who saw Signora Rosari in the vicinity of the hotel shortly before midnight?”
Lampone shook his head. “No. Ambrosiano talked to all the club owners and several other people who are usually around at that time, but nobody could recall seeing her.”
“How about the life insurance company? Did they confirm the facts?”
“Yes, they did.” Lampone pushed a hand through his thick, white hair. “She will get the life insurance, and it'll certainly help her out of her current difficult financial situation.”
Garini sighed. “So we're at a stand still. We suspect her, but other than circumstantial evidence, we have no proof.”
“If you don't count the testimony from Signora Agatha,” Lampone said. “Personally, I would trust her.”
“Really? Why?”
“I've known her for a long time, and I don't think she would incriminate a young woman merely to help someone else.”
A mix of relief and shame went through Garini. “If that's so, I've got some serious apologies to make to the Mantoni clan.”
Lampone smiled. “You've had ample provocation.”
Garini looked at the cooked raspberry eyes and suddenly realized that he had found someone he liked to work with. Yes, Lampone was a sparring partner on his level who not only had integrity but maybe even humor. He relaxed against his chair. “All right, let's put her case to the side for the moment.” He gave Lampone a brief smile. “Maybe we should do something simple for a change, just to get it out of the way. Did Ambrosiano manage to talk to the young girl from the coffee shop who's now on vacation? The one who was sexually harassed by Rosari?”
Lampone nodded. “Yes, Ambrosiano contacted her first thing in the morning because it was the easiest. Her Facebook account showed pictures of herself with the Matterhorn in the background.”
“The Matterhorn?” Garini smiled. Nice, cool place.
“Yes. One of the mountains in Switzerland.”
Garini nodded. “I know the Matterhorn. My sister lives quite close by. If we're very critical, we could say that the picture of the girl in front of the mountain could have been faked. It's not difficult to do that anymore.”
Lampone nodded. “True. But while Ambrosiano was talking to her, he could hear cow bells in the background.” He gave Garini a small smile. “I know what you'll say – that's easy to fake, too. But I think she has very little motive. She freely talked about the experience and had nothing but praise for Signora Agatha who showed her how to stand up for herself. And while she didn't have a single good word to say about Rosari, she could name three other girls who are touring around the Alps with her and who spent the whole night with her at a hut that's only accessible by a five-hour-treck on foot across the mountains.”
“Good.” Garini took a deep breath. “She's the first person we can cross off our list. We're making huge progress.”
Lampone grinned. “Yeah. Impressive.”
Garini returned the grin. He had been right about the humor. “Still, it wasn't a waste of time. Her story confirms that Rosari had a tendency to harass timid and young girls, so it makes Nora's story more likely.”
“True.”
“How about the hotel owner Ortadella? Did Ambrosiano go to the restaurant to check on Ortadella's alibi?”
Lampone shook his head. “No, Ambrosiano didn't have the time because he was too busy talking to all the hotel employees, trying to find out if they had ever seen a gun on Rosari.” He looked at his file again. “They denied all knowledge of a gun, with one exception: The cleaning woman said that she once saw a gun in his desk. It was in a drawer that was open when she came into the office to empty the trash cans. Rosari closed that drawer in haste when he realized that she could see it. Ambrosiano checked the drawer, and there was enough space to fit in the gun, though barely. He says the desk is chock-full with stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Lampone lifted the file in front of him and read, “Bills, samples from shampoo and soap suppliers, catalogs about professional coffee machines, paper clips, catalogs about garden umbrellas, and six thousand four hundred and seventy Euros in cash.”
Garini whistled. “Six thousand four hundred and seventy Euros in cash?”
“Yes. Hidden away in the back of the drawer, behind the place where the gun was stored.”
“Fifty of those probably belong to Ernesto,” Garini said.
“Yes, it looks very much like blackmail money to me, too,” Lampone said. “He seems to have preferred payment in cash all the time. We checked his accounts – they don't reflect any strange income, so nobody could detect his activities when looking at the official files only. I imagine he had a secret bank account in Switzerland. It's only a few hours' drive to the border. A thoroughly nasty specimen, our Signor Rosari.”
“I wish we knew more about his other victims. There might be a suspect we haven't even heard about.”
Lampone put his head to the side and gave Garini a considering look. “In fact, I've come across one today that we haven't considered so far.”
Garini didn't know if he should be happy or discouraged. There were far too many suspects littering the case already. “Tell me more.”
Lampone nodded. “I will in a minute. But before I do that, I wanted to tell you that I also managed to check the backgrounds of the other hotel guests today. I talked to them.”
“You covered that personally?” Garini's own boss Cervi would never have done field work, no matter how understaffed they were.
“Yes. Ambrosiano's voice wasn't up to it.” Lampone shrugged. “However, it didn't get us anywhere. None of them liked Rosari, but none of them had any previous business with him. Unless something else comes up, something we don't know about, I would cross them off as suspects.”
Garini nodded. “All right. But you mentioned a new suspect?”
“Yes. This morning, I went to the restaurant where Ortadella had claimed
to eat during the time of the murder. I happen to know the owner, and he's quite powerful in certain circles.”
Garini's eyebrows climbed.
“He owns six restaurants and has his finger in many pies. Ambrosiano wouldn't have gotten anywhere with him.”
“I see. So what did he say?”
“Oh, he confirmed that Ortadella and his wife had dinner at the restaurant. He was very nice and relaxed about it.” Lampone moved his head from side to side. “His statement may be true, or it may not. Difficult to say. But then he chuckled and told me that maybe I should look closer to home if I wanted to find the real culprit.”
Garini blinked. “Closer to home?”
Chapter 15
Pale raspberry eyes looked at Garini, and then Lampone said, a seeming non sequitur, “I went round to see Commissario Pucci today to hear how he is. Normally, I would have telephoned, but since he can't speak, that wouldn't have gotten me anywhere. His voice seems to have recovered to some extent. At least, he speaks normally whenever he gets excited. It's only when he calms down again and remembers his affliction that he can barely squeak.” His voice had become grim, and a pulse beat at his temple.
“Pucci?” Garini's thoughts raced. “You mean he might have shot Rosari? That would explain why he bungled up the investigation in such a spectacular way.”
“Yes.” Lampone's voice was bitter. “I told Pucci to take his time to recover. Said it wouldn't do to return to work too early and pass the illness to all the others here.”
They looked at each other without blinking. Then Garini said, “You think he was being blackmailed by Rosari.”
“Yes.” Lampone looked at the file in front of him. His jaw was working. “But I haven't yet figured out the details. You know that he was sent here about a year ago. I've contacted the police station in Bari where he worked before, and they said that he didn't get along with anybody on the staff. When he asked to be transferred to the North, they were overjoyed.”
“So it wasn't done against his wishes; he expressly asked to be transferred?”
“Correct.” Lampone jumped up and took a nervous turn around his desk. “I found that interesting, too. Few people from the South consider moving North if they can help it. It's way too cold in winter.” His words came out too quick, and it sounded as if his thoughts were far away from the harmless words. Gone was the harmonious atmosphere in the office, and all at once the heat inside the dusty room was oppressive.
In silence, Garini considered Lampone. He could imagine what he felt. To investigate your own team was a dreadful job. Not only did it erode any trust that you'd had in your own people; it also endangered the reputation of the police in general. If Pucci was guilty, Lampone would look like a fool in the eyes of the public. There was no way that Pucci could go down in the mud without some of the mud splattering onto his boss. Lampone knew all that, and he was trying hard to appear oblivious of it, but his nonchalance was forced. Damn. Garini got up. “I think Pucci's office is next door, isn't it?”
“Yes.”
“Can I have a look?”
“Sure.”
Pucci's office was almost empty. There was just a little less dust than in Lampone's office, and instead of one cactus, Pucci had two plants that looked as if they could live for long stretches of time without any water, but otherwise, it was an exact replica of Lampone's room. The air was a bit cooler in there, but a curious smell lingered.
Garini turned to Lampone. “Have you already searched his desk?”
Lampone winced. “Not yet.”
“Should I do it?” Garini had not forgotten that Pucci had done his utmost to send Ernesto to prison – without a warrant. “I wouldn't mind.”
Pucci's boss looked relieved. “Go ahead.”
Garini opened the top drawer of the desk and gave a low whistle. “Not bad.”
“What is it?” Two quick steps brought Lampone to his side.
The drawer was stuffed to the limit with soft drinks and snacks. Several empty plastic bags had been stuffed willy-nilly into the drawer so that it could barely be closed. The rank smell intensified.
Without a word, Garini shoved the drawer back into its original position and opened the next one. It looked identical to the first one. “Apparently, Pucci is afraid of going hungry,” he said.
“Hmm.” Lampone took a step back.
The rest of the desk didn't reveal anything notable, if one didn't count the fact that Pucci had hardly kept any files. “Where is everything?” Garini asked. “I mean, the work-related stuff, not the food for a twenty-year siege?”
“In my office.” Lampone shrugged. “When I realized that he was apt to lose material, I told him to bring everything to me.”
“Right.” Garini straightened and squared his shoulders. “Since we can't talk to the suspect straight away, we'll have to go about it in a different way.”
“I guess so.” The answer didn't sound enthusiastic.
“Did Pucci come here with family?”
Lampone nodded. “Yes, he brought his wife.”
“Let's start with her. What's her name?” He pulled up a chair and sat down at Pucci's desk, then turned on the computer.
“Pamela Pucci,” Lampone said. “You needn't search for her; I've already done that. There's nothing officially known against her, and as far as the Internet goes, she might not even exist. But she has a hair salon downtown, and that's a place where we can start.”
“Downtown?” Garini frowned. “You mean right next to one of these little luxury boutiques?” Carlina had told him that she wanted to go to the upscale center of Forte dei Marmi to “get inspiration from the competition”, as she called it. So far, he had managed to avoid that, which was the only good thing that this summer case had brought him. Prior to coming, he had checked up on the prices of real estate in Forte dei Marmi, with the vague idea that a summer house would be nice. But the rents and property prices in the area had made his jaw sag and put all thoughts about a summer house to flight. “How on earth can she afford that?”
Lampone shrugged. “I think she's from a wealthy family or something. Pucci once mentioned that.”
Garini frowned. “But since Signora Pucci doesn't know me, I'll go and get a haircut. Maybe I can do a little small talk and learn something.”
With a mournful face, Lampone shook his head. “That won't do.”
Garini felt a stab of irritation. “Why not?”
“It's a hair salon for women only.”
“All right, then we'll send a female police officer.”
Lampone blinked.
“What?”
“We don't have a female police officer.”
“You . . . you don't have one?”
Lampone shook his head. “Forte dei Marmi only has eight thousand inhabitants. We're lucky to have three policemen in spite of that, and that's only because we cover some of the neighboring areas plus all the tourists, of course.”
“So it's just you, Pucci, and Ambrosiano?”
“That's right.” Lampone shrugged. “But we could ask your girlfriend to do it, couldn't we?”
Stefano jumped. He couldn't recall talking about Carlina more than absolutely necessary. “My girlfriend?”
“Yes. What's her name? Carlina?”
Stefano kept his voice calm, though it cost him. “Her real name is Caroline Ashley. Carlina is just a nickname. However--”
Lampone gave him a broad smile and interrupted him without even noticing it. “Brilliant. She sounds quite sensible, and I'm sure she could do it.”
Stefano clenched his teeth. “She's the only sensible person of the whole Mantoni clan, but I refuse to involve her into the case.”
Lampone's eyes widened. “Why not? She'll be delighted to help the police. Besides, she'll get a free styling. What woman would refuse that?”
“It's not what she would or wouldn't refuse to do. It's that I don't want to involve her.”
“But why not?” Lampone repeated.
&
nbsp; “Because it's dangerous; because I've been trying to keep her out of my cases ever since I got to know her,” with little success, his inner voice whispered, “and because she's on vacation.”
Lampone bent forward, a smile in his pale eyes. “Look, I understand that you're worried about her. It does you credit. But we're stuck, and if you explain to her that it might help to clear her cousin, she'll be happy to do it.”
Garini felt he was losing ground. He was used to being ordered to do something that didn't make sense, but he wasn't used to being sweet talked into it. How did you refuse someone who asked kindly? Still, he wasn't ready to give in yet. “How about a female police officer from a nearby town?”
Lampone stroked his chin in thought. “I'm not even sure that we have any female officers nearby. Besides, they're all on vacation, and it would take ages to find one.”
“We should long ago have introduced a law that demands an equal proportion of women in official positions,” Garini muttered.
“Your Carlina won't come to harm,” Lampone said. “As you said, it's just a bit of small talk.”
Garini made one desperate last attempt. “Look, it's not like I can get Carlina into the case and out of it again. She'll have to know some things, and--”
“You think she won't be discreet?”
“No, that's not it!” Garini wiped his brow. It was way too hot inside the office. “It's just that she'll continue to investigate on her own.”
Lampone's eyebrows climbed. “An independent woman, eh?”
“Absolutely.”
“She has to meet my wife. They'll have plenty in common.”
Garini took a cautious breath. “Maybe your wife could go the hair salon instead of Carlina?”
“She would do in a shot, but she's in the South with her family for ferragosto.”
“I hate ferragosto,” Garini's mood couldn't get any blacker.
“Look, if you want, I can ask Carlina,” Lampone said. “I could even say that you're not involved and don't know anything about it. Would that help?”
“Madonna, no!” The idea of Carlina investigating his case secretly made his blood run cold. He wiped the sweat from his brow and jumped up. “I'll talk to her.”
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