A Villa in Sicily: Olive Oil and Murder
Page 18
She turned to leave, and this time, he whimpered.
“I’m sorry. You heard the detective. I’ve got to split.”
She took all of two steps before he whimpered even louder.
“Oh, come on, little one. Don’t carry on so much. You’re going to get me in trouble. And you’re going to be fine.”
This time, when she turned away, she meant to keep heading along the road, without stopping until she got back to her house.
But just then, behind her, a man’s voice called out urgently in Italian. “Vattene! Vattene, bastardo!”
She whirled to find a man rushing toward her with an old wicker broom. He was older, and his white T-shirt barely covered his pot belly, similar to Ernesto. He was wearing suspenders and dress shoes, and was hairless on top with impressive sideburns on his cheeks. His face was ruddy and twisted in anger.
Just like she knew what assassina meant, so was she sure about bastardo. He started to swing the broom haphazardly in all directions, too much exertion to expend on such a tiny and cute little mongrel who was doing absolutely nothing wrong. Almost embarrassed for him, Nick easily avoided the swipes, jumped to the top of a lumber pile, and looked down at the man, like, Silly human.
“What are you doing?” Audrey shouted. She already didn’t like him, because hello? A furry creature does not deserve to be battered with a broom, even though from the way the man was now rasping for breath, he was the one who’d clearly gotten the worst of it. “It’s just a poor, defenseless animal.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “American?” He said it as if the word was synonymous with “idiot.” “Those stupid mongrels come in here and poop all over the supplies. I can’t keep them out. I need to electrify this fence, that’s what I need to do.”
He was entirely serious. She gasped. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
He shrugged. “What do you care about it? That your pet?”
“No,” she said immediately, because she didn’t need to be in any more trouble than she already was. “But it doesn’t matter. They’re living creatures. They should be treated with respect.”
“They’re on my property,” he growled, shaking his fist up at the fox. “Bastardo.”
“Your property?” She blinked. She knew what she’d told the detective, but this man had held her up. Besides, she couldn’t simply walk away. She could ask a few innocent questions, then let the police take over when they arrived. “So this is your place?”
He nodded. “That’s my name on the sign. Bernardo Altera.”
Her instincts prickled. It might have been the way he treated Nick, but something about this made her finally feel like she was on the right path.
“Oh. I’ve heard about you,” she said, then wondered if she shouldn’t have said that when he looked surprised. “I mean, I’ve seen your stamp on lumber. I’m working on a project, renovating a house myself. I could use some of your supplies.”
His demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. He smiled. “Is that so? Well, come in my office. I provide you a quote.”
Audrey checked over her shoulder, expecting to see DiNardo and Ricci barreling toward her, sirens flashing and guns drawn. But the street out of town was empty. She looked up at Nick, who’d made himself comfortable at the top of the pile.
“All right, fine,” she said. After all, it was broad daylight. There were construction workers around. Not exactly the stuff of a murder mystery show. She’d be fine.
She shifted her empty basket to the other arm and followed him beyond the gates, into the yard. As they walked toward the trailer, Altera pointed out a load of lumber. “That? That is good. Good price on it. You like.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a question, but she nodded anyway. As far as she was concerned, lumber was lumber. Her dad might’ve had more of an opinion, but to her, it all looked the same.
Really, all she wanted to find out was one thing, and it wasn’t the price of the supplies. She wanted to know where he was the morning that Ernesto Fabri had been killed.
And it wouldn’t hurt to ask a few more questions.
After all, the police would be there soon. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
“You buy one of these cheap properties, yes?” he asked her as he held the door open for her. “The one euro?”
She walked inside, turning to see if the police were arriving yet. No, the street was empty, as far as the eye could see. Nick was busy hopping from plank to plank, trying to get down from the heap. She almost didn’t hear the question. “Um, yes, I did. Piazza Tre.”
The trailer was remarkably tiny inside and almost painfully messy with open file cabinets teeming with papers. Papers on every surface, too. A fan in the corner hummed away, oscillating slowly, making the papers ruffle slightly, but the rush of air did nothing to dispel the strong stench of garlic.
There wasn’t much of a walkway between the furniture. Altera squeezed between a file cabinet and the side of a desk and stood in front of a plastic chair that made an unflattering noise as he lowered his substantial body into it. Meanwhile, Audrey watched him carefully, waiting for some sign of recognition. But he didn’t appear to make the connection to the murder that had happened there. He simply grabbed a pad and pen and scribbled it down. “Now, what work are you having done?”
Maybe she was wrong. “Um … well …” She hadn’t really thought about it. She took the folding chair across from him and noticed a wall calendar there, scribbled with various job names. She scanned to the date of the murder, squinting to read the terrible handwriting.
He noticed her looking, so she quickly averted her eyes.
“All of it. I mean, I guess I um, should just start with the subfloor?”
He wrote something down and went to grab his calculator. As he did, she leaned forward and read what was written on the calendar. Not Fabri. It said, Cappeli, 10.
He turned back to her just as she was straightening up. “All right. How big?”
“Not very. I guess … what’s the smallest amount I can get?”
He rambled on about prices, telling her she could have just about any amount of lumber, but a delivery fee would apply to quantities under two hundred euros. She wasn’t really listening. She was thinking about the calendar. Because if he was due at the Cappeli project at ten, that gave him plenty of time to be at Nessa’s beforehand. She wracked her brain, trying to think of a way to swerve the conversation to what she really wanted to know.
Finally, while he was in mid-sentence, she blurted, “My friend across the street. She used your lumber.”
He looked up from his pad, obviously expecting more.
What were you expecting, Audrey? For him to say, “Oh, is that at the place where I offed the foreman?”
“She said this place was the best in town,” she continued, really talking out of her backside now.
But Altera seemed to buy it. He smiled. “Good to hear. I agree.”
“Of course, she wasn’t doing the renovations herself,” she continued, her eyes ping-ponging around the room. There was a stack of metal filing cabinets on one side. The top one actually had a little index card on the front that said, A-Fabri. “She used a construction company. Fabri Fratelli?”
His eyes blinked to hers, and for a split second, she saw recognition there. But he didn’t say anything. He pulled out what looked like a triple-layer quote form and started to fill it out.
“You probably knew them well?” she goaded.
He shook his head. “We work with thousands of customers. I don’t know them all. Name?”
For a moment, she wondered if she should leave an alias. But that would have her look even more suspicious. Besides, if he proved to be innocent, she’d need to get her lumber from somewhere. “Audrey Smart. I’m surprised. They’re pretty big. So you didn’t hear about the foreman? Ernesto Fabri?”
He shook his head again, still writing information. “Phone number?”
She gave it to him. “It’s odd you
never met him. He seemed to be in business a while. He actually died on the site. It was a fall. Some say he was murdered.”
He looked up suddenly, eyes narrowed, and dropped the pen to the paper. “What’s this all about? Who are you?”
“Just …” She waved her hand vaguely. Maybe this was a mistake. Her voice came out as a squeak. “Buying lumber, is all.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe that. What are you really here for?”
She stood up so abruptly the basket fell from her lap. She stooped to pick it up. “Nothing. I was just making small talk, but if you’re not interested, I guess I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
Audrey lifted her chin, indignant, and whirled to reach for the door.
The second she did, though, Bernardo Altera, who was much sprier than she gave him credit for, came around the desk and lodged his body in between her and her escape. He crossed his arms. “I don’t think so.”
She swallowed as she looked out the window. Nope. No police cars yet. She was alone.
You’ve miscalculated, Audrey.
He took a step toward her, forcing her back until she could feel the hard edge of his metal desk against the backs of her thighs. This close, his breath was rancid. “Start talking. Tell me what you know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Audrey still hadn’t found her voice. The man might have been older, but his neck was as thick as a tree trunk and his arms bulged at his sides. It wouldn’t take very much to pummel her into the floorboards. Right here. In broad daylight. Even with construction workers milling about outside, the sound of the forklift whirring outside could easily drown out her screams.
“Look. I don’t want any trouble,” she said, reaching for the door handle again.
This time, he put a hand on her shoulder and shoved her back. A small movement, and yet pain tore down her arm. “Then you shouldn’t have come looking for it.”
Oh, God. He really could kill me.
“The police are going to be here any minute,” she said, voice trembling. At least, she hoped.
That had the opposite effect of what she wanted. His face flooded with red and he gnashed his teeth. “You call the police? For what? You’re bluffing.”
“I’m not.” She managed to skirt around the desk, into the aisle, and started backing up more, with him advancing two steps for every one she took. “But you have a reason to be worried, right? It was you, wasn’t it? You were in on it with him, helping him bump up the costs. Did he give you a cut, was that it?”
Altera’s eyes burned into hers. He punched his open hand, like he wanted to do the same to her head. His voice was low. “You know nothing.”
But in that moment, she knew that she was on the right track. He had no reason to behave this suspiciously unless he had something to hide. “So what happened? Did you argue? Did one of you decide to get a little too greedy? Did you try to strike a deal, and he said he’d go to another supplier if you didn’t accept his terms?”
He froze. His lips puckered.
I’ve got him, she thought, exhilarated. “And so, what? You gave him an ultimatum. You went to Piazza Due early in the morning, and he gave you an answer you didn’t like. Things got heated, and you shoved him over the side of the cliff. Right?”
“It was an accident,” he said, his voice so low she could barely hear it.
Holy … she thought, her body breaking out in goose bumps. I’m right? I’m actually right?
He stared at her, aghast. “How did you know?”
“Honestly … I didn’t know, until just this minute. I had a hunch. That’s all.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then the police aren’t coming …” He started to advance on her again.
She took a step back. “No! They are!” she cried, but she was too late. His hands shot out, ready to grab for her neck. Before he could wrap them around her throat, she ducked out of the way and slipped around him, grabbing the small fan and holding it between them as she squeezed into a corner. The trailer was already suffocatingly small, but now she was really trapped.
She let out a yelp and held the fan up. “Don’t, or I’ll …”
The moment he lunged for her, though, a furry blur appeared in the periphery of her vision, scampering under the windows. It jumped, hanging in mid-air for a split second before connecting with Altera’s thick body, sending him stumbling back.
She looked down just long enough to see Nick bury his teeth in the man’s hairy forearm, right above his gold watch.
He wailed in pain. She dove for escape, climbing over the desk and scuttling for the door. She went to hold it open for Nick, but he’d already gotten through ahead of her.
“Clever fox,” she said as she escaped into the air, about to make a run for it.
But she didn’t have to. A police car pulled up in a cloud of dust, making her choke. It was slightly less dramatic than she’d expected after the call she’d made to them. Actually, a lot less dramatic. No flashing lights or sirens, and they didn’t have their guns drawn. No backup. Just the two of them.
Before they could even get out of the car, she started to unload on them.
“Guys,” she said breathlessly, pointing at the trailer. “Bernardo Altera. He’s your man. He confessed to me. He was in business with—”
She stopped when she realized he was standing behind her, holding his bloody wrist. Scowling at her.
She moved safely behind Officer Ricci’s body. “Ask him,” she said in a small voice. “Go on.”
They all looked at Altera expectantly. She thought for sure he’d deny it, but he simply said, “It was an accident. But he was a scum. I’m sure a lot of people are better off in this world without him in it. He scammed hundreds of people. I just wanted him to stop.”
“Bull! You were in on it with him!” Audrey shouted, but Detective DiNardo held up his hand.
“You can tell us all about it down at the station,” DiNardo said, motioning to Ricci, who removed his cuffs from his belt and snapped them behind Altera’s back.
As Ricci led Altera back to the police car, Audrey did her best to avoid the newly apprehended man’s death stare. Meanwhile, DiNardo looked at her. “So much for going home, eh?”
She smiled innocently. “I got held up.”
He let out a laugh and looked at the ground, where Nick was busy sniffing at his shoes. “And so much for getting rid of him.”
She hitched a shoulder. “I can’t help it. He follows me everywhere.”
“I suppose this time, that’s a good thing. Looks like he helped you out of a bad situation.”
“Yes.” She smiled down at him. Then she looked up at DiNardo, hopeful. “Does that mean I can …”
“No. Not at all,” he said, and turned to go back to the car.
So that’s the gratitude I get for cracking the case, she thought, sighing as Nick planted himself between her feet, her little guard dog.
But actually, that was all right. She was all right. She was free. Free to go anywhere in the world now.
And yet the only place she really wanted to go was right back to Piazza Tre.
Home.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Audrey never realized how good she had it. Her little house was great. As she rolled over in bed in the morning sunlight and smiled up at the water-stained ceiling, thinking just how artistic the shapes were, she realized that life was really great.
She looked over at Nick, who was still lounging on her bed, between the pillows, and smiled.
She would never let Nick go. Even if it put her in jail.
Downstairs, she could hear Mason hammering on her wall, helping her as he’d promised. Bit by bit, the place was coming together.
Everything was great.
Last night, she’d made a list of everything she needed to do. And she couldn’t help smiling, thinking of all of it. Even the drudge jobs. It would be fun, because it was everything her father would’ve loved. She was definitely her father’s daughter.
“Oh, Audrey!” she said, and Audrey could hear the hopefulness in her voice. “I was hoping you’d call.”
Audrey said, “Dr. Carey, I’m sorry, but it’s not good news.” For you, anyway. “As much as I appreciate your offer, I just moved to Sicily and I’m finding my way around here. I don’t want to give it up quite yet.”
“Oh.” The disappointment was obvious, but Dr. Carey was, as always, tactful and diplomatic. “That’s too bad. I’m sure everyone will be sorry to hear it. I know I am.”
She hung up and took a deep breath. That was it. She had burned all her bridges. Now she had no choice but to make her new life in Sicily work.
Audrey took a deep breath. She needed a miracle, probably, if she was ever going to get her vet practice started. There were applications to fill out, board review, months and months of waiting … and meanwhile, her bank account was suffering. Luckily, she’d learned she could take a cash advance from her credit card, and she planned to do that to pay for supplies at the hardware store. But she needed to do something, soon, in order to maintain a livelihood.
At least she wasn’t bound for prison.
Everything else seemed small in comparison.
Maybe she would regret not accepting the job in the future, but she knew for sure she’d regret not staying in Sicily and trying to make this work. She still had so much to accomplish here.
She realized after the call ended that she had two more messages. One was from Brina, asking how things were going. She’d respond to that soon. The second was from …
Wow.
Michael Breckenridge, her old high school crush.
She cringed a little. She hadn’t even thought about him since a few days after that disastrous high school reunion. It felt like a lifetime ago that he’d been drunkenly propositioning her for a tumble in the coat room. Had that really happened?