The Bitter Taste of Murder

by Camilla Trinchieri

  “Great. Do you know when?”

  “Anytime, was Tarani’s answer. For all I know, that could mean a week from now. Not Tarani’s fault. He’s on our side.”

  Nico heard the sound of cascading water. “Where are you?”

  “At the station. In the bathroom. Tarani is in my office, coordinating the search with his men. You’re still persona non grata.”

  “To him, but not to you. What can I do to help?”

  “Talk to Diane Severson. She likes you. I’m not sure she’s telling the truth. Also, tell her the bank manager told Tarani he’s convinced Mantelli’s money is now in Switzerland.”

  “I will. Text me her phone number. I’m sorry this happened, but I know you’ll find her.”

  “American optimism. I like it. I’ll keep in touch. Ciao.”

  “Ciao.” Nico slipped the phone in his pocket and went back inside the store. The kilo of Parmigiano Reggiano was sitting on the counter in two large transparent plastic bags with a knot on top and a torn piece of butcher paper telling him what he owed.

  “Everything all right?” Enrico asked. “Not bad news, I hope. Please forgive. I don’t mean to pry.”

  “A few complications, that’s all.” The news of Loredana’s flight didn’t sit well in his thoughts. Guilty or not, Daniele had read her correctly. She was in dire need of help. Where was she trying to go? Who was helping her, if not Diane?

  “Complications give heartburn, so I hope they dissipate quickly.”

  As Nico paid, he heard the ping of a text arriving.

  Enrico handed over the receipt. “May I ask one question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What are you going to do with a kilo of Parmigiano? I hope you don’t freeze it. It won’t taste anywhere near as good.”

  “I’m going to make frittelle for the restaurant today. Frittelle sprinkled with raw chives from my garden.”

  Enrico’s smile reached from one end of his face to the other. “Frittelle with a glass of red. Excellent idea. I’m tempted to come by after closing time and try them out. Luciana hasn’t made those in years. Bravo, Nico. You’ve become one of us.”

  “Thank you, and to the next time.” Nico took his cheese and walked out of the store with a lighter heart. Enrico had just paid him the highest compliment. For now, he would keep his misgivings about Loredana at bay. He had frittelle to make. “Let’s go, OneWag!”

  The dog responded with a bark and ran ahead like a kid playing whoever-gets-there-first-wins. Tilde always had a scrap of meat waiting.

  “That smells good,” Nico said, his back to Tilde. “Something new?”

  “You saw what I was making.”

  He was bent over a baking sheet, tamping down small mounds of grated Parmigiano into flat rounds with the back of a spoon. This was the fifth batch he was making. Each fritella, once roasted, was carefully lifted with a spatula and just as carefully added to a tray and sprinkled with chopped chives. “That’s right, I did. Yellow pepper stuffed with rice, sausage meat, onion, pecorino and tomato sauce.”

  Tilde turned around and tapped Nico on the shoulder. “What’s wrong, Nico?”

  He turned to look at her. She seemed concerned. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “I made yellow stuffed peppers at lunch.”

  Nico went back to his frittelle. “So you did. They were good too. So what smells so good now?”

  “Freshly picked rosemary for chicken alla cacciatora. Nico, please stop making your frittelle for one second and talk to me. You told me Aldo was coming home soon. All of us toasted the news not even half an hour ago. We were happy. Even Elvira cheered. I thought you’d be relaxed.”

  Nico reluctantly stopped. The repetitive motion of making frittelle was calming. He turned to meet Tilde’s kind, alert gaze. When he had first come to live in Gravigna, she had been his rock. He loved her as a sister and would be forever grateful to her. “This stays between us.”

  “It always does, unless you tell me otherwise.”

  “I’m worried about Mantelli’s girlfriend.” He told her what he had learned from Perillo.

  “You’re worried they won’t find her?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t figure out why I’m worried, and that worries me even more. Did she run because she’s guilty, or did she just panic? Was she drugged up when Daniele called her? Did she know what she was doing, where she was going?”

  “You care for her.”

  “She needs help.” Before Nico could say anything more, Alba popped her head into the kitchen. “Our first customers are here. A group of six men. Spaniards. Two, gorgeous. They ordered three wine bottles, which Enzo is taking care of, and six orders of frittelle that I need from Nico.”

  Glad for the interruption, Nico carefully placed an equal amount of frittelle onto six plates and handed them to Alba. “No stealing,” he said. Alba winked, blew him a kiss and disappeared. “I better make more. I think they’re going to be a success.” He gave Tilde a reassuring smile.

  Tilde cocked her kerchief-covered head at him. “I’m sure they will be.” She knew he wasn’t going to tell her anything else. He was generous toward others, always willing to help, but mostly kept his feelings to himself. Her heart had warmed with hope seeing him with his arm around Nelli on Saturday night. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” Stella had whispered. “Wonderful,” she had answered.

  Tilde went back to salting and peppering the chicken pieces. “Diane Severson made a reservation for tonight. Nine-thirty. Late for her.”

  “I asked her to make it late so she doesn’t have to wait until I’m done here.”

  Alba popped her head in again. “Two more orders of frittelle—they’re divine, by the way—and your American lover is here. I put her at her usual table.”

  “Alba!” Nico spun around, dropping a spoonful of chives on his shoe. “She’s not my lover.”

  “She sure would like to be. Albanians can spot desire across a room like an owl can spot a mouse in the dark.” Alba did her happy gurgle as Nico slapped full plates in her hands. “Love you, Nico. Ciao.”

  Nico watched her sway a few meters and turn the corner to the terrace before returning to his frittelle. Alba was always happy, always teasing.

  Nico took off his apron. “I’d better find out why Diane came so early.”

  “Of course. Go do your police work. I’ll take over your kitchen duties.”

  Nico kissed her cheek. “There’s no need for sarcasm, and your pay is lousy.”

  “You’re right on both counts. Take a few frittelle to Elvira, or she’ll sulk for days.”

  Nico filled a small plate and winked at her. “I’ll give Elvira your love.”

  Tilde threw her kitchen towel at him. “Get out of here!”

  It was only six o’clock, the hour people came to the restaurant to enjoy the view with an aperitivo. Dinner started at seven for the foreigners. Eight-thirty or nine was the preferred Italian dinner hour. A few more couples had come in since the group of Spaniards, Nico noticed as he walked onto the terrace. Diane was sitting under the fig tree. She saw him and waved, mouthing a “ciao.”

  Nico walked over. “Hello, Diane. Is everything okay?”

  “Well, besides my husband murdered by his mistress and our empty bank account, everything is fine.”

  “I’m sorry.” He sat down opposite her. “I asked because you were supposed to come at nine-thirty.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “I know. I got bored and tired of seeing sadsack Peppino dragging himself around the house. A woman came by to try to cheer him up. At least, that’s the reason she gave. Said she was a family friend and added she knew you, which I found odd.”

  “It must have been Nelli.”

  “So you do know her. She has one of those open faces, but you can’t judge anyone by their face. She could have been lying.”

&n
bsp; “She wasn’t, and I don’t agree with you. In my previous line of work, I discovered that faces reveal a great deal. As Gogol said just the other day, quoting Dante, ‘The face shows the color of the heart.’ You just have to care enough to pay attention.”

  “You sound annoyed. Nelli must be a very good friend.”

  Nico decided not to favor her with an answer. He was in fact annoyed, and his relationship to Nelli was no business of hers. “Do you have any idea where Loredana might have gone?”

  “I’m sure not to her stepmother’s, and she’s never mentioned other relatives. Have you called Luca? Maybe he offered to help her.”

  “He’s in Radda organizing a wine dinner at the Casa Chianti Classico.”

  “Once the Santa Maria del Prato monastery. We should have lunch there sometime. It’s a gorgeous place. Does he know anything?”

  “No, and he added he hopes never to know anything more about her.”

  “I guess he saw right through her manipulative ways, but it’s not easy to stop Loredana when she sets her eyes on something or someone. I learned that lesson quickly. Tell your maresciallo to look for her at Luca’s vineyard. She’s desperate to find a replacement for Michele. I tried to help, but once I saw that her needs are the size of the Grand Canyon, I backed off and sent her on her away. Now I’m feeling guilty, an emotion that’s new to me.”

  Alba walked by, five full plates balanced on her arm. “We’re running out of frittelle.”

  “Go on with your work,” Diane said. “Come by the villa after you’re finished, and I’ll tell you the little I know about Loredana. You should see the place before it’s torn down. It’s very beautiful.”

  Nico felt his stomach tighten. He hadn’t bargained for this.

  The expression on Nico’s face amused Diane. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to seduce you, but company doesn’t hurt. Something tells me you could use some just as much as I could. We’ll have a nightcap by the pool and think of where Loredana might be.” She tore off a piece of the butcher-paper placemat and wrote down her address. “It’s about two kilometers before you get to the town. The gate is topped by cast-iron wine bottles, the only tasteless idea I let Michele get away with.”

  Nico nodded. Diane might think she didn’t know much about Loredana, but he’d learned, through years of listening to people, that sometimes words spoken without forethought led to a clue. It was worth a try. He slipped the address in his pocket. “Okay. I’ll get away as soon as I can.”

  “I can wait. Bring your cute dog.” Diane slipped a pair of sunglasses over her eyes and watched him go. Company was fine, but sex was better. She’d give it a try.

  Instead of going back to the kitchen, Nico walked out of the restaurant. He stopped a few meters away from the door so as not to be heard by Enzo, who was manning the bar, and called Perillo. “Diane says she doesn’t know anything, but she suggested looking for Loredana at Verdini’s place.”

  “I’ll go there now with Tarani and a couple of men. So far we have nothing. We’ve canvassed every home in Lamole. No one noticed a car or a woman with suitcases.”

  “Text me if you find her.”

  “I will. I hope Diane is right.”

  “Me too.”

  “You look worried,” Enzo said as Nico walked back into the restaurant. “And tired.”

  “I am, but I’ve got to make more frittelle.”

  “Yes, please do,” Elvira encouraged from her armchair at the far end of the room. “We mustn’t disappoint our diners.” As he walked past her to reach the kitchen, she grabbed his hand. “You keep surprising me, Nico,” she whispered, pulling down his arm.

  He bent down to hear her. “If you keep coming up with ideas that sell, I might allow you to buy a small share of my restaurant.” She put fingers to her lips. “But shh, that’s just between us.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” He kissed her cheeks, as she expected. “You honor me.” He’d get a share of the restaurant when the sun stopped rising. This was just Elvira’s perverse way of paying a compliment.

  “Daniele, there’s the sign,” Perillo said, sitting in the passenger seat of a blue Alfa Romeo with carabinieri printed in white across the doors. Daniele slowed down and turned into the ColleVerde parking lot after thirty meters. Vince and Dino followed in the second Alfa. They had kept the siren off, not wanting to alarm Loredana if she were hiding out here. Perillo got out first, and the others followed. Perillo had never met Verdini and regretted that there had been no time to put on his uniform. Finding a runaway murder suspect was serious business, and their appearance should convey that. Instead, their jeans and shirts were wrinkled, dirty and sticky with sweat. “Stay a few meters behind me and Daniele,” he told Vince and Dino as they walked down the path. “Be ready to pounce if you see her.”

  Perillo stopped at the tasting shed. Verdini was seated in one of his uncomfortable chairs facing the view of his vineyard below, his legs stretched out, bobbing his head to whatever music his Bose headphones were feeding his ears. He was alone.

  Perillo tapped his shoulder. Verdini turned around and pulled his headphones down to his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you coming.” He smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid we’re closed now. I keep forgetting to add our hours to that sign.”

  A friendly face. Athletic-looking. Young. Perillo held out his hand. “Maresciallo Perillo from the Greve station with three of my men.” He introduced them.

  “Luca Verdini. I’m the owner, but I guess you know that already.” Verdini shook Perillo’s hand while scanning his face, shifting his gaze to Daniele and ultimately flickering his eyes at Dino and Vince, who were standing further back. “Ah.” Verdini’s smile vanished. “This looks serious.” He gestured to the chairs surrounding the table. “Please, sit down. Forgive the unwelcoming chairs.”

  The man seemed perfectly relaxed in front of four armed carabinieri. A good actor? Perillo had always prided himself on being a good judge of character, but lately, he felt he was slipping. Maybe it was better to play down the seriousness of the situation.

  Dino and Vince started to come forward. Perillo stopped them with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. They retreated a few paces.

  “Not serious at this point, but worrisome.” Perillo sat with the view behind him. He wanted no distractions. Daniele instead stood at the edge of the drop, looking for places where she might be hiding. No sheds. No boulders. Only a wide, flat field divided by long rows of vines. As he scanned the area, he caught a flash of movement at the corner of one eye. He turned to follow it. An auburn-furred dog was chasing something he couldn’t make out. He hoped the something would get away.

  “Loredana Cardini has gone missing.” Perillo dropped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “She had an appointment with me at the station and didn’t show up. Is she here, by any chance?”

  Verdini looked perplexed. “No. I already told you I don’t know anything. Why would she be here? I thought she was staying with Diane Severson at her villa.”

  “Signorina Loredana has since gone back to living at the B&B.”

  “I only met the woman once. Diane drove her here on Saturday. She kept telling me I was Mantelli’s good friend and I should help her. I asked her if she needed money. No, money wouldn’t help her. What she needed, she said, was someone to take care of her. Thank the heavens that a client came by and interrupted her. I had to call Diane to pick her up. It was a great relief on my part when she left. She’d snorted or injected something and was in woo-woo land. I can see why you’re worried.”

  “We are.”

  “Doesn’t Diane know where she is?”

  “Unfortunately, she doesn’t.”

  “Poor woman. Stunningly beautiful and yet so miserable. Pitiful too. Mantelli’s death really hit her hard.” Verdini’s gaze went to the sky beyond Perillo’s shoulders. A sad gaze, Perillo th
ought. Maybe he had lost someone too.

  Verdini seemed to shake himself back to the present. “Look, all my workmen have gone home, and I just got back here myself. I don’t really know whether she’s somewhere on the property or not. I don’t see why she would be, but since you’re here . . . The house is open. There’s a giant vaulted basement where I keep the bottled wines, as well as two floors of living quarters. And here,” Verdini shifted his weight to one hip and reached into a pocket in his jeans, “are the keys to the winery. It’s behind the house. There’s no place to hide down in the vineyard, but you’re free to look there too. The dog is friendly.”

  Perillo took the winery keys and tossed them to Dino. “Daniele, you and Vince check the house.” He trusted Daniele would make sure the house search was proper and thorough. He stood. “Signor Verdini, would you show them the way?”

  “None of the doors are locked. They can manage by themselves. I trust the carabinieri.”

  Perillo acknowledged the compliment with a smile. The door of the shed was shut, he noticed. “Do you mind if I stay here?”

  “Not at all. You must be even more exhausted than I am. I find that sitting here and taking in the view brings peace. I don’t imagine you’ve had much peace or rest since Mantelli was killed.”

  “That is a fact.” Perillo sat back down. “Would it be possible to have a glass of water?”

  “Certainly. I’ll have to get it in the kitchen. The key to this shed is with the winery keys.”

  Disappointed, Perillo stood. “Please, I’ll go.”

  “If you prefer. The kitchen is to the left.”

  Perillo walked across the path and went inside the house. He stopped behind the front door to watch what Verdini would do in his absence, if anything. Verdini’s nonchalance about searching his home and winery without his presence was bothering him. The only movement Perillo saw was Verdini punching a number on his phone. Half a minute later, he clicked off and dropped the phone on the table.