Violent Daylight

by Caroline Angus Baker

  “And by wow, I mean holy crap, you look beautiful.”

  Canna laughed. “Then check this out.” She turned to reveal the back, or lack of back. The backline of the gown dropped to her hips, so her tattoos were all on show, scars be damned.

  “How am I supposed to concentrate on anything else now?” Claudio asked as he stood up from his seat.

  “You’ll have to find a way.”

  Claudio took her left hand and kissed the large star tattoo on her wrist, the one she had etched to represent him in her life. He held her hand against his chest. “I’m sure you will look this beautiful when you marry me.”

  “We’re getting married? Were you going to mention this to me?”

  “I got a call while you were out earlier, from my lawyer.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “For what he charges for his services, he needs to be available every day. In a week, my divorce will be finalised.”

  “That was quick.”

  Claudio scoffed. “Veena really wants rid of me.”

  “Well, you can be needy and demanding.”

  “This conversation isn’t going how I expected.”

  Canna frowned. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’m asking you to stop being my mistress.”

  “As in…”

  “I’m asking you to marry me.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like this?”

  Claudio sighed. “Yes. Blinky, you asked me to marry you in Corsica. I thought you wanted to marry me.”

  “I wanted to show you that I was serious about making a commitment to you. I have become monogamous for you. I bought you a home and made a commitment to help you with your son. I’m doing my best.”

  “Catherine, you can annoy the hell out of me sometimes.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  “Will you marry me?” Claudio watched Canna’s face. She looked scared. “Canna, life shouldn’t be complicated. We can just be together.”

  “Throwing a marriage proposal at me does complicate things! I thought men were terrified of commitment.”

  “Terrified of making a mistake.”

  “Everyone should be terrified of marrying the wrong person.”

  “We’ve already made that mistake.”

  “Maybe we should learn from our mistakes and be single.”

  “So, you don’t want marry me?”

  “I don’t want marry at the moment because it will tangle you up in my financial and business mess. Until I have finished working for Caraceni, my life is going to be problematic.”

  Claudio stared straight down at his shoes. The last thing he needed today was a proposal rejection. Canna brought her hands to his face, and he glanced up again.

  “Please don’t say, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’,” he said.

  “I’m not ready yet.”

  Claudio shrugged. “Fine.”

  “But I will be ready one day.”

  “I’m meant to wait, am I?”

  “Only if you want to wait. One day we can go back to Madrid. When the right day comes, we can marry. Just you and me. No dresses, no guests, no rings, just us.”

  “You mean no proof that it ever happened.”

  “I mean, you and me bound together in a relationship that only we can appreciate and understand.”

  Claudio shrugged again.

  “You idiot, I’m saying yes to your proposal! I just don’t want to be ‘engaged,’ or ‘betrothed’. I’m offering you a private acceptance to a private proposal.”

  “You’re so weird.”

  “You like weird.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “So, are we agreeing to a spontaneous wedding, sometime in the distant future, or not?”

  Claudio laughed. “I don’t care how we marry, as long as we do.”

  “Then kiss me, you fool, because yes, I will marry you!”

  Claudio swept Canna into his arms and held her tight. “Why couldn’t you just say yes first?”

  “I needed a moment to think about it. I like being single.”

  “You’re not single; you’re my partner in crime.”

  “I will try not to commit any more crimes, illegal or immoral.”

  “I love you, Canna.”

  Canna smiled. “Plenty of people have said that to me, but you’re the only one I believe.”

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “Wow, people haven’t been very nice to you.”

  Claudio laughed and kissed her. Canna was the only woman that made Claudio feel loved. “Can I tell everyone that I proposed, and you accepted?”

  “Do we need to tell anyone?”

  Claudio paused. “No, I guess not. Let’s just surprise them when we get married!”

  The doorbell rang, and they both rolled their eyes. “What are the chances that it’s Lea, who is in a panic about tonight?”

  Claudio checked his watch. “We should head to the Hall now. We have a full rehearsal before I get suited up to walk the red carpet.”

  Canna trotted to the door in her tight dress and pulled the door open with a smile. The happy expression didn’t last long. She eyed the two men on the doorstep, dressed in matching black suits. “Are you Catherine Medici Savelli?”

  “No need to be so formal.”

  One of the men pulled his wallet from his suit jacket and opened it. “We’re from Interpol. I’m Detective Johnson, and this is Detective Daniels. We need to talk with you.”

  “Oh goody.”

  Claudio appeared behind Canna. “What’s going on?”

  “Interpol,” Canna said over her shoulder.

  “What do you want?” Claudio asked.

  “We want to talk to you about the death of Yuri Dementyev.”

  “What about him?” Canna asked.

  “We have a lot of questions.” Detective Johnson looked Canna up and down in her dress. “I see you’re busy.”

  “Very,” Claudio snapped.

  Canna gestured for the men to come in, but it was clear that she wasn’t happy. Claudio couldn’t understand what they wanted. The group went into the living room, and they all sat down, except for Canna, who stood arms crossed, across from the men.

  “Right, gentlemen,” she said. “Tell me why Interpol cares about Yuri Dementyev.”

  “Two nights ago he was murdered. I’m sure you know that.”

  “We certainly do. Interpol doesn’t deal with murders.”

  “We do when the long list of suspects are all over Europe.”

  “Wait, we’re suspects?” Claudio asked.

  “Not both of you,” Detective Daniels said. “But we need to talk to you, Mrs. Savelli.”

  “I’m aware we’re in England, and everyone is formal and stuffy, but I’m not Mrs. Savelli. Italians don’t change their names to become objects owned by their husbands,” Canna replied.

  “Your passport says Countess Catherine Ann Medici Savelli di Caraceni. You seemed to have no problem with taking your husband’s title.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Indeed. How did he die?”

  “He had a brain tumour, which caused a massive stroke.”

  “You were there, the moment he died, so records say.”

  “Have you been reading up on me?”

  “We have,” Detective Johnson smiled. He liked that his presence in her home made Canna uncomfortable. “We also know you were interviewed over the death of Marino Bruni in Rome a few months ago.”

  “Hey, that was suicide,” Claudio interrupted.

  “Yes, we understand that,” Detective Daniels said. “We know a lot about Mrs… Ms. Medici. Her husband was well-known to Interpol.”

  “For what reason?” Canna asked.

  “For a start, money laundering allegations.”

  “None of that ever got proven.”

  Detective Daniels smiled. “You seem ups
et, Ms. Medici.”

  “First of all, my name isn’t pronounced Med-itchi. It’s pronounced Me-di-jee.”

  “I apologise. Can I call you Catherine?”

  “No, you may not. If you have studied me, you will be well aware of how rich and well-connected I am. This may be your country, but I bow to no one.”

  “Your surname means ‘doctor’ in Italian, doesn’t it?” Detective Johnson asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Yet a number of people have died around you this year.”

  “My husband got sick, and he died. Marino Bruni shot himself in the head. My old boss, Daniel Taylor, he died of stomach cancer. Do you want to blame me for that, too?”

  “No one is blaming you,” Detective Daniels said.

  “Good.”

  “The case of Marino Bruni was a sketchy one. The file seemed loaded with inconsistencies.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” Canna said. “Police have tried it with my late husband. They dig into past details and try to upset the person they’re interviewing. I have an army of lawyers who can prevent this.”

  “You are welcome to call a lawyer,” Detective Johnson said.

  “Is that necessary?” Claudio asked.

  “This is just a quick interview. Yuri Dementyev died in the bedroom that belonged to Catherine Medici.”

  “But she stayed in my room at the palace,” Claudio said. “She was with me the whole time.”

  “Are there witnesses to that?”

  “Me.”

  “And you are Claudio Ramos Ibáñez?”

  “I am.”

  “You’re Ms. Medici’s lover, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “Didn’t her last lover get a bullet in the head?” Detective Daniels joked.

  “That’s a disgusting and unprofessional to say,” Canna said. “Yes, okay, let’s do this. I married Giuseppe Savelli, and yes, he is dead. I did have a lover, Marino Bruni, at the same time. We had a dirty affair. It’s no secret. People keep lovers all the time; it’s sexually-charged and legal. Now I am Mr. Ramos’ mistress and his wife lives nearby. I own this house, and he lives here for when I want to visit. Yuri Dementyev was simply my business partner.”

  “Nothing more?”

  “Nothing more.”

  “Did he know you had a kept lover?’

  “No, he didn’t. It’s my business. Yuri had many lovers himself, male and female, and he made no secret of that fact.”

  “Indeed, there are many people who had a motive to kill him.”

  Canna nodded. “Are Interpol interested in this case because his family are weapons-dealers?”

  “How do you know about that?” Detective Daniels asked.

  “Because I do background checks on all my business partners. However, like with Interpol’s case against my husband years ago, there is no proof of Yuri’s illegal dealings.”

  “I didn’t know about that,” Claudio commented.

  “You didn’t need to,” Canna replied.

  “You’re quite popular in your own right, aren’t you, Mr. Ramos?” Detective Johnson asked.

  Claudio shrugged in reply.

  “You wouldn’t want to be associated with this death, would you?”

  “Of course not. I haven’t done anything wrong. Neither has Catherine.”

  “What will happen to your Marine business now, Ms. Medici? Your partner is dead.”

  “Yuri’s lawyers can contact my lawyers to sort that out. It’s not a concern,” Canna said and unfolded her arms.

  “It should be.”

  “It should be, but a young man died in his own home. The day-to-day details of boatbuilding aren’t the main issue. Yuri was a silent partner in the business anyway.”

  “We understand that you recently signed up Adam Drugal, one of Yuri Dementyev’s lovers, as a new client.”

  “I wasn’t aware that they were lovers.”

  “They certainly are.”

  “So?”

  “You stand to make a big profit with Mr. Dementyev out of the picture.”

  “Hey, are you accusing Catherine of killing Yuri?” Claudio shot out.

  “We just need to follow all leads,” Detective Daniels said.

  “I will only make half of the profit, the other half would go to Yuri’s estate. I wanted Yuri as a partner so the business didn’t collapse. I didn’t want Yuri to die, I can assure you.”

  “Do you know who killed Yuri?” Claudio asked the detectives.

  “We have a few very strong suspects. Mr. Dementyev had many enemies.”

  “But I wasn’t an enemy and neither was Claudio,” Canna said. “You may find our lives and our sexual dalliances to be amusing, or disconcerting to your uptight British values, but we don’t go around killing people.”

  “Your husband has said the same thing in the past.”

  “My husband is dead. I am in total control of everything now.”

  “Ms. Medici, your husband was a billionaire and now you have all his money. Surely you know it’s dirty money.”

  “Caraceni is a huge business, it has many revenue sources. Interpol doesn’t scare the Caraceni family.”

  “Yes.” Detective Daniels shifted in the seat. “Do you know that there has been investigations of Caraceni Industries because of claims of human trafficking?”

  “What?” Canna frowned.

  “There is a monumental network of traffickers all over Europe that buy and sell prostitutes. You own brothels, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you know those girls were bought and sold?”

  “You need to prove that to me.”

  “We can do that another time,” Detective Johnson said. “Right now, we are interested in Yuri Dementyev.”

  “The first I heard of Yuri’s death was when a friend called from Italy, and asked if I had heard the news. I didn’t use the bedroom in Russia. I collected my bag from the room because the staff had left it in there but I spent the night at the party or in Claudio’s room.”

  “The whole time?”

  “The whole time,” Claudio repeated.

  “Before the party, I stayed in Claudio’s room, and he performed oral sex on me. I had no need for the guest suite that Yuri provided.”

  Detective Johnson cleared his throat. It seemed obvious that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while. “The staff already told us you didn’t stay in the guest room.”

  “Then why are you here?” Claudio asked.

  “Just checking details,” Detective Daniels said.

  “How did Yuri die?”

  “Someone hit him over the head with a full bottle of champagne,” Detective Johnson said. “The bottle was then put back in the ice bucket.”

  “You found the murder weapon?” Canna asked. The second bottle of champagne in the bedroom; they had the wrong bottle.

  “Yes, but there are so many fingerprints on it, maids, waiters, that sort of thing, it’s impossible to tell who gave the final blow.”

  “I guess one of those many enemies,” Claudio quipped.

  “What a way to die,” Canna muttered. “Did he suffer?”

  “No, the wound killed him instantly due to the blow. It cracked his skull, which pushed back into his brain. Whoever did it was particularly strong.”

  “A man?” Claudio asked.

  “Most likely.”

  “So, not Catherine Medici.”

  “I’m a recovering addict,” Canna said.

  “Recovering from what?” Detective Johnson asked.

  “From every addiction you can imagine.”

  “There is no way Catherine would hit a friend of hers with a wine bottle, because she doesn’t drink alcohol. She wouldn’t touch the stuff,” Claudio said.

  “You have quite an advocate in this man,” Detective Daniels said to Canna.

  “Yes, she does,” Claudio answered for Canna. “Catherine didn’t do this.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Medici. We simply need statement from
you.”

  “Can I do that tomorrow? I have to be at work now. I’m already late.”

  “Yes, the Virtuosi show,” Detective Daniels said. “I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time.”

  “I will, as long as I’m not accused of murder.”

  “That isn’t going to happen,” Claudio said to her. “They aren’t going to accuse you of anything.”

  “You’re very defensive, Mr. Ramos,” said Detective Johnson.

  “Damn right I’m defensive! I can categorically vouch for Catherine’s whereabouts and character.”

  “Alibis and character references from kept-lovers don’t have credibility, Mr. Ramos. I can see why you’re so keen to defend Ms. Medici, though. You wouldn’t want your good name, or your group’s good name associated with the murder of an arms dealer while you sang at his birthday party.”

  “Do you want to play this out in the court of public opinion?” Claudio challenged him. “A police officer against me? I’m the much better-looking Spaniard with a voice that makes women’s panties wet with a few notes. Please, Virtuosi have no problems.”

  Detective Johnson stood up, and his associate followed. “Perhaps, Ms. Medici, we can meet and sort things out tomorrow. What we need is a statement; nothing more. If you want to bring a lawyer, you’re most welcome.”

  “Certainly,” Canna said and gestured toward the front door. “I want this business with Yuri dealt with just as much as you do.”

  Claudio opened the door. “Stop by any time, detectives,” he said. “We have nothing to hide. But we do have a lot of late-night sex, so don’t stop by in the night.”

  The two men went outside, and Claudio shut the door before another word could be spoken.

  “What the hell was that?” Canna cried. “You, the man with the voice that wets women’s panties? What were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know! I opened my mouth, and an attitude just fell out!”

  “I can make this go away, with the aid of my lawyers, not with wise-guy comments to the police. But thanks for standing up for me.”

  “Why wouldn’t I stand up for you?”

  “Would you stand up for me if I did kill Yuri?”

  Claudio smiled. “I would prefer it if you didn’t kill anyone, so I don’t have to lie for you.”