“I see.” Garini remembered the day he had been given his driving license. How proud he had been. How did this kid remain sane with so many crazy women in the same house? No wonder he went to talk to Carlina when he needed help. Good choice. She was the only one around who was intelligent and kind. “What did you do then?”
“I finally went to our Internet Cafe. Rafi was there.”
“When was that?”
“At seven, wasn't it, Rafi?”
His friend frowned. “Wasn't it earlier?”
“No.” Ernesto shook his head. “I remember I was surprised how long I had taken to drive up to Fiesole and back.” He shrugged. “All the Easter tourists, you know.”
“When did you last see your cousin alive?”
Ernesto swallowed. “The evening before. I took him to the Internet Cafe, but he said it was too tame for him.”
“At what time was that?”
“Around ten.”
“And did you then go somewhere else?”
“Valentino did. I stayed because Rafi challenged me to a game.”
Garini looked at Rafaele. “Why did you do that?” Did Rafaele not like the good relationship between Valentino and Ernesto? Was he maybe jealous of the older man's attention to his best friend?
Rafaele lifted his shoulders and dropped them again. He did it so slowly that it looked like two separate movements. “Because it was fun.” He spoke in his usual slow and deliberate way.
Suddenly, with a desire so strong that it went through him like a shot of pain, he heard Carlina's voice again, whispering to him at the family party, her scent so alluring, her lips a mere inch from his ear.“He's so quiet, he'll turn into a rock when he's older.” Would she ever whisper confidences to him again or had they already reached the end of their friendship?
He watched Ernesto go and managed to get rid of Fabbiola by asking her to fetch Simonetta and to leave them alone afterward. For once, Fabbiola obeyed, though he didn't doubt that she was listening at the door.
Simonetta started to talk before she had even taken a seat. “I didn't know Valentino very well at all,” Simonetta lifted both hands and spread her fingers in a gesture that made clear how far she wanted to differentiate herself from the Mantoni family and anybody that may have appeared. “He seemed charming, but quite full of himself.”
Garini watched her for a moment without asking his first question. She's an opera singer, so she's used to acting a role. Was this a role or was she serious? Simonetta was wearing a tight red t-shirt that showed her cleavage to advantage. Her dark hair was swept up into a chignon, but most of the strands had escaped, which gave her a look as if she had just burrowed through a haystack. She now perched on one of the modern chairs in Fabbiola's kitchen, making the chair look insubstantial and fragile below her.
Piedro looked at her in alarm. “Should I start to record her statement now?” Simonetta's quick start had flustered him.
“May we record your statement, Simonetta?”
Simonetta eyed the tape recorder in Piedro's hands. “If you must.”
“Thank you.” Garini leaned back. “Now please tell me a bit more about your background. Why are you in Florence and what is your connection to the Mantoni family?”
“I'm a friend of Adriana. She was my roommate in Milan.” Simonetta wiped one of the loose strands from her face. “Do you know Adriana?”
“I don't.”
“She's one of Carlina's cousins - twice-removed or so, if I remember correctly. I got to know Carlina two years ago, when she came to a trade show in Milan and stayed at our apartment. When I was offered the chance to train for several months with Maestro Valedictory in Florence, I--”
“Maestro Valedictory?”
“You don't know Maestro Valedictory?” Simonetta sounded scandalized. “He was one of the most important opera singers of his time. He's retired now, but he still teaches people occasionally, so when I learned that he would accept me, I jumped at the chance. Adriana asked the family if they could arrange some sort of accommodation for me, and Fabbiola very kindly offered her apartment.”
One thing was clear - Simonetta had no trouble talking for an hour without ever drawing a breath. If he wanted to edge in a question sideways, he would have to interrupt her in the middle of a sentence.
“I really like it here, everybody is so friendly and open-minded, and--”
“Do you know if anybody had a reason to wish Valentino dead?”
Simonetta stopped in the middle of her speech as if she was a horse in full gallop, sticking all four feet into the mud. She gulped, looked at Garini with wide open eyes, and closed her mouth with a snap.
“Well?”
“I . . . no.” She shook her head and repeated. “No.”
“Can you tell me how you found the body?”
Simonetta nodded. “I came home and--”
“Where did you come from?”
Simonetta opened her eyes wide. “What?”
“Where had you been before you returned home?”
The question seemed to throw her off her stride. “Oh . . . I was . . . I was walking. Yes. I was walking around the city. Walking is good for singers because they need some fresh air for the lungs. Not too much, of course, because the cold air can be treacherous, so it's advisable to always wear a soft scarf if you--”
“Did you already see the body lying from a long way off?”
“I . . . what?” Simonetta looked alarmed. “No. I . . . I wasn't paying attention, you see. I was training an awkward interval with a difficult emphasis on part of a word. It's not easy because I have to drop an interval of a seventh and the low note is at the bottom of my range. I find it hard to hit the note strongly and with the right accent, that's why I have to repeat it all the time. It goes like this, you see . . . “ She started to sing some notes. Her strong voice filled the kitchen without effort.
Piedro's eyes widened.
Garini suppressed a smile. “So you're saying you were walking around the city, then came back, didn't see the body at all and . . . ?”
The trailing notes stopped coming out of Simonetta's throat. “Em. I . . . I saw him at the last minute, but I didn't touch him.” She shivered. “It was totally unexpected. I screamed and screamed.”
“Was nobody else on the street?”
Simonetta blushed. “No. I don't think so. I didn't pay attention to anything at this moment; I was too horrified.”
“Still, it seems a bit odd that you screamed and screamed, as you said, and nobody ever looked out of the window. I remember the juggling performance you did on Sunday, and within one minute, half the street was hanging out of the window, watching your every move.”
She shrugged. “That was Sunday. On Sunday, people are at home, and they're bored. In the middle of the week, it's different.”
He lost his patience. “Listen, Signorina Andretta, I have to tell you something that won't surprise you.”
“Yes?” Her brown eyes opened wide.
“We know for sure that Valentino Canderini was not killed on the doorstep of this house. Moreover, I doubt that you found him there. I believe you found him somewhere else and transported him there, probably with the help of the enterprising Mantoni family.”
Simonetta's face turned a deep red. “You're saying I'm lying?”
“Yes.”
She drew herself up. “This is a serious accusation!”
He didn't blink. “Yes.”
Her eyes darted around the room as if she could find the answer written into the dust on the table. “If you don't believe me, I have no further statement to make.”
“If you insist on telling me lies, I have no further need to talk to you.”
“Good.” She jumped up. “Who do you want to talk to now?”
“One moment, please.” He made sure his feelings didn't show. “Can you please tell me where you were on the night of the murder between five and eight?”
She opened her mouth, took a short breath . .
. and closed it again. “I . . . I told you. I was walking around the city.”
“For three hours? It wasn't a warm day, and I thought your throat needs to be protected?”
“I . . .” Simonetta gulped. “I . . . I won't comment. I did walk around. I didn't pay attention to the time.”
“I'm telling you to your face that the body was found inside this house.”
Simonetta turned to the door with a quick pivot on her heels. “I have to go.”
So much for that. “Please ask Benedetta to join me here.”
Two minutes later, Benedetta came into the kitchen, looked around, and sniffed with disdain. “This kitchen is a disgrace.” The corners of her bright red mouth turned down. “Look at all the dust everywhere.”
“It isn't dust. It's flour.”
There was a knock on the door and the Frenchman Leopold Morin looked in. He was almost bald, with his skin stretched tight across his scalp, showing the delicate bone structure underneath, but he looked much better than last Christmas, when he had gotten to know the Mantoni family in the middle of a private crisis. “Can I join you, Commissario?”
Garini lifted his eyebrows. He remembered Leopold Morin standing next to Benedetta during the show-down last Sunday, talking to her, following her out of the room. Could it be that he was witnessing the beginning of a romance? “I usually try to talk to everybody on their own.”
“Oh, please, let him stay.” Benedetta smiled at Leopold. “I feel much better when he's by my side.”
“If you promise not to influence her, you can stay,” Garini said. “If I understand correctly, you weren't present when the body was discovered?”
“Oh, no.” Leopold shook his head. “I was out, walking, you see.”
“Oh.” Garini gave him a hard look. “Did you meet Simonetta?”
Leopold frowned. “Simonetta? No. Was she walking, too?”
“Yes. For three solid hours.” Garini made sure his voice didn't betray any emotion. “It seems that walking around was a favorite occupation that night. How long did you walk around, Signor Morin?”
“Half an hour at most.” Leopold said. “The wind was biting. I quickly returned home, to continue my studies, but by then, you had already arrived and were examining the body.”
Garini narrowed his eyes. “I see. So you left the house, walked around half an hour, and when you came back, I was already there?”
“Yes, I . . .”
Benedetta stamped onto Leopold's foot.
A spasm of pain crossed his face. He stared straight ahead. “I mean, no. I remember now. I had left the house much earlier.”
Garini sighed. “Et tu, Brute.” He knew Morin spoke sufficient Latin to understand the reference to Caesar's treacherous friend.
Leopold Morin flushed a rosy red.
“You wanted to talk to me, Stefano.” Benedetta gave the Commissario a fake smile and sank onto one of the modern chairs, pulling Leopold down with her, so he came to sit next to her. “I'm ready.” She squared her shoulders and looked at him as if she was ready to be grilled.
Garini wasn't taken in by her limpid gaze. With the whole family in cahoots, he very much doubted that the interviews would lead him anywhere. On the other hand, he had to try.
“When did you last see Valentino alive?”
Benedetta didn't have to think about that one. “That must have been around five o'clock or so. I was just coming back from work, and I met him at the foot of the stairs, here, in our house.”
“Five o'clock? Teodoro Mantoni said it was around six.”
Benedetta opened her eyes wide. “Six? I usually come home from work at five at the latest.” She put her head to the side. “Let me think.”
Leopold turned to her with an alarmed look on his face, as if he was afraid of what her thinking might produce.
No wonder. He has gotten used by now to what a Mantoni woman can come up with when under pressure. Garini kept his face impassive and waited for Benedetta to finish her musings.
“Ah, I've got it.” Benedetta sat up straight. “I spent longer than planned at the mesticheria Mazzanti.”
“Where?”
“The hardware store for household accessories. There was a line, and I had to wait. I met Sofia Altori, one of Rafaele's sisters. You remember Rafaele, don't you, Stefano? You met him on Sunday. Rafaele is Ernesto's best friend, and they practically grew up together. Sofia is a very pretty girl, and we started to chat a bit, but when I asked her a bit about her private life, she clammed up. Such a sad story.” Benedetta shook her head. “She lost her baby when it was only two months old. I have a strange feeling--”
Garini wasn't in the mood to listen to Benedetta's strange feelings. “So in fact, you think it's possible that you returned around six after all?”
Benedetta gave him a beaming smile. “After all, yes.”
He wasn't supposed to ask leading questions, so he tried again. “Or maybe you came back around five thirty?”
“No, no, Stefano.” Benedetta stood her ground. “I remember everything now. After my chat with Sofia, I decided I still needed cheese. I wanted to buy some scamorza, and there's only one shop that has the right kind, but I had to walk some time to get there.”
“Can you give me the name of the store?”
“Of course.” Benedetta shrugged. “It's on Via Vincenzo Gioberti, and the owner is Geronimo. He personally served me.”
I'll have to send Piedro to check this out. So far, Benedetta had the strongest motive to wish her nephew out of the way - if she had really felt that the safety of her son was threatened by the bungee jumping. Garini checked his watch. If he needed to talk with every member of the family for five minutes just to establish when they had last seen the famous Valentino alive, he would have to spend the night. “Did you notice anything unusual about Valentino?”
“Unusual?” Benedetta frowned. “No, I don't think so. He was joking. He didn't offer to carry my bags upstairs. Not that my bag was very heavy, but still . . .” She shook her head. “He wasn't a gentleman.”
“Did you notice anything else?”
“He was carrying a black leather briefcase.”
“Was that unusual?”
Benedetta hesitated. “I think so. I had never seen him with such a big leather briefcase before.” She turned to Leopold. “Have you ever seen Valentino with a black leather briefcase, Leo?”
Leopold Morin shook his head.
Teo mentioned the leather briefcase too. Garini frowned. It had been nowhere near the body. “Do you know what was inside?”
Benedetta shrugged. “How should I know that?”
“Did you see it again later?”
A flash of panic crossed her face. “No.”
Why did that make her so uncomfortable? Could it be that the leather briefcase had been left at the scene of the murder, forgotten by the enterprising Mantonis? “Have you seen this leather briefcase anywhere since the death of Valentino?”
“Oh, no!” Benedetta shook her head with emphasis.
“Can you imagine any reason why Valentino should have been killed?”
Benedetta shrugged. “Sometimes, it's better this way.”
Leopold Morin winced.
“Are you telling me that you condone the murder of your nephew?” Garini made sure his voice sounded unemotional.
Leopold gave Benedetta a warning look.
She smiled at him with utter confidence. “Let's just say it could be worse.”
Madonna. Garini had the impression that his ability to cope with the Mantonis waned from minute to minute. “You have not answered my question. Do you know of any specific reason why someone wished Valentino to be dead?”
Carlina's aunt shook her head again. “No. Do you have any other questions?”
“Not at the moment.” Seeing as you're all lying. I need one of you to slip up. Just one.
Benedetta got up and turned to the door. “I assume you'll want to talk to my children now?”
“
I've already talked to Ernesto.”
Her head came around with a snap. “To Ernesto?” Her voice was full of alarm. “Why did you talk to him first?”
“Because he walked in.”
The look of relief that flooded her face was almost ridiculous. “I see.”
Does she suspect Ernesto? But he's the only one who liked Valentino.
“I'll ask Annalisa to join you now.” She left the kitchen with Leopold Morin trailing after her.
Two minutes later, the door was flung open and Annalisa stormed into the room, her red hair flying. “Mama wanted to come, but I told her I could cope with you on my own.”
Piedro made a small sound of admiration.
Garini suppressed a sigh. He had to admit that Carlina's little cousin was a stunner, but even a short acquaintance with her was enough to show that Annalisa had only one love in her life: Herself.
Annalisa gave Piedro a smile from underneath her lashes.
Piedro turned pink.
Mission accomplished, Annalisa tossed back her head and grinned at Garini. “After all, you're Carlina's boyfriend, so I don't need to fear anything.”
“You don't need to fear anything if you haven't done anything wrong.” Stefano made sure his voice remained even.
Annalisa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I'm being recorded, right? No wonder you talk all official-like.”
Stefano knew Annalisa well enough not to press his point and decided to change the subject. “Can you tell me when you last saw your cousin alive?”
“Oh, that's easy.” Annalisa laughed. “I was probably the only one who didn't see him at all the day he was killed.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, we talked about it, of course.” She opened her eyes wide. “Comparing our alibis.”
And making them up. “So when did you see him last?”
“The night before he was killed, when I came home.”
“At what time was that?”
Annalisa shrugged. “I have no clue. One in the morning? Two? Something like that. I was walking home from a party.”
“On your own?”
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