She stopped short. “What? Oh, late. It was such a strange day. I opened the store with so much expectation; Ricciarda and I even had a bet going on how many pairs we would sell, and then . . . nothing.” She shook her head. “I felt dreadful. All those negotiations, the money spent on the advertising . . . and the effect was zero. At ten to twelve, when we had sold only one pair, I decided to go for an early lunch. I still had to run to the bank before they closed.“ She frowned. “What? Why do you look like this?”
His face was wooden. “Go on. What happened then?”
She had the feeling that every sentence was drawing a noose tighter around her neck, that he didn't want her to go on, on the contrary, but she had to continue, as if destiny was pulling her forward, toward a goal she did not want to reach. “Well, when I came back, everything was still dead. Ricciarda had sold only one slip from the special offers. It was disheartening. So I sent Ricciarda out for lunch and started to clean the--”
“When was that?”
“What?”
“When did you come back from lunch?”
Carlina frowned. “Around one, I believe. I treated myself to a nice lunch at the Trattoria delle Stelle, to make up for my lost hopes.”
“And when did Ricciarda come back?” He was in true interrogation mode now; he had even taken out a notebook and scribbled down unreadable things.
“Around two, I believe. No, maybe earlier, say, half past one.” Carlina shrugged. “I can't tell; I don't clock her time. She's a great employee, reliable, and willing to work longer if there are customers; that's why I don't control her times that much.”
His light eyes scanned her face. “And how many nylons had you sold by the time Ricciarda returned?”
“None.”
“None?” He almost shouted the word.
Carlina bit her lips. “No. It was crazy, but the customers only started to come by three. I remember because we were discussing at a quarter to three if I should send Ricciarda home early, and we said we would wait until three, and then, as if they'd heard that we were discussing it, they came in hordes.”
He pressed his lips together. “So until a quarter to three, you had only sold one single pair of these brand-new nylons that you would recognize everywhere and could not ever possibly mistake for any other brand?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Did anybody else have access to these nylons?”
“No.”
“You gave no one a pair before today?”
“Well, yes, now that you mention it, I did. Of course I am wearing a pair, and I gave some to Ricciarda, so we could show them off today, and then I gave one to Annalisa, but that's all.”
“What about the woman who bought them in the morning? Do you know her?”
“No.” Carlina shook her head. The expression on his face frightened her. “She paid in cash, so I can't even look up her name.”
Garini looked like thunder impersonated.
“Why is that so very bad?”
“Because,” he reached out and gripped her shoulder in a vice-like grip. “The victim was strangled with your special nylons between twelve and one forty today.”
“Oh, Madonna.” She could feel the blood draining from her face, leaving her with an unreal feeling, as if she was floating.
He shook her. “Pull yourself together, Carlina. You can't faint now.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide. “Are you telling me I'm a suspect?”
“Technically, you are.” His hand was still hard on her shoulder, but she could feel the warmth from his fingers through her sweater.
“But?”
“But nothing.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “I'll try to get out of this case tomorrow.”
She felt cold. “I don't think that's necessary, Garini. After all, if I have no connection to the victim, it's ridiculous to suppose that I'm a suspect.”
“You know him.”
Her eyes widened. “What? I've heard nothing. It's impossible.” Then she remembered that she had switched off her phone during the afternoon rush. “Who is it?” Her mouth was dry.
He clenched his teeth. “It's Trevor Accanto.”
“No.” Her voice didn't obey her. Her lips formed the words, but no sound came out. “I don't believe it.” The lights of the restaurant receded. She saw Trevor's handsome face, his laughing, blue eyes in front of her inner eyes. He had been so alive this morning.
Garini was watching her like a hawk, his hand firmly keeping her in this universe. “I came to see you at Temptation because I saw the receipt in his wallet. When we searched his hotel room, we found several bags from Temptation.”
“Not Trevor.” She couldn't take it in.
“How well did you know him?” Garini sounded cool and official.
“I--” Something slid into her consciousness. Annalisa! She shook off his hand and jumped up. “I have to go.”
With one smooth move, Stefano stood at her side. “Wait. What's up?”
“I'm sorry, but I really can't stay.”
He took both her arms. “Carlina, please. Could you stay and explain first what's going on?”
Impatience shook her. “I need to go. Really.”
“Why?” His light eyes scanned her face.
“Because . . .” Carlina broke off. Should she tell Garini that Annalisa had been Trevor's last lover? Why put her under suspicion? Maybe he would not find out. They had only been going out for five days. Telling him would put her into danger. It was needless and dangerous. Nonsense, a voice inside her replied. You know Garini looks deeper than the surface. He doesn't go for the obvious solution, just because it's easy. If he did that, he would have arrested you last October when you were his best suspect.
His eyebrows lifted, and he loosened his hold on her. A wry smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Are you aware that your face betrays every single thought?”
Carlina squared her shoulders. “So what did I think?”
“You know something relevant, and you're afraid of telling me, probably because, as usual, you wish to protect someone from your family.”
Her jaw dropped. “Right. Do I still need to go into details?”
“Please.”
She couldn't help it. If he looked at her like that, and asked for her help, instead of commanding or threatening, she had no stand. Carlina dropped back onto her seat. “Trevor was a most charming man.” She frowned as she looked at his immobile face. “You know, with you, it's the exact opposite.”
“You mean I'm not charming?”
“I mean I can never tell what you think. Never.”
He smiled. “You'll learn.”
Something warm sizzled through Carlina. “It would take decades.”
Their eyes locked. “We've got time, don't we?”
The moment hung between them, like a glass ball, fragile; warm light reflecting in a rainbow of colors, until Carlina realized she had stopped breathing. With an effort, she returned to the topic at hand. “I got to know Trevor some years ago. Four, maybe five. He's a rich American who comes to Florence every Christmas. And every year, he takes up a new lover.”
Garini nodded. “I've heard about that. It's an interesting habit.” His voice was ironic. “Do you know how he achieved that?”
Carlina shook her head. “I've no idea. A combination of charm, money, attraction, whatever.” She shrugged.
“And how did he get rid of them?”
Of course Garini got to the point with his swift speed that used to terrify her. Funny, she wasn't terrified anymore. She wanted to stop and analyze her change of feelings, but she had to reply first. “He told me it was all a matter of preparation, of telling them from the start it was nothing but a fling.”
“Hmm.” Stefano watched her. “And how did you get to know him?”
Carlina smiled. “It's obvious, isn't it? He was my best customer, and we chatted for a bit whenever he came into the store.”
“I see.” He frowned into space, t
hen focused his gaze again onto her. “Now tell me which Mantoni family member is involved.”
She flushed and stared to play with her spoon. The warm light reflected in the shiny surface as she turned it in her hands. “It's Annalisa. She . . . she started an affair with him about a week ago.”
Again, his feelings didn't show, if you didn't count a certain tightening in his jaw. “So she was the beautiful redhead Peter mentioned.”
“Who's Peter?”
“Peter Grant is the manager of the Garibaldi hotel.” He shook his head. “Don't tell me Annalisa accepted her lover's terms.”
She looked up with one swift move of the head. “How do you know she didn't?”
“I had the pleasure of meeting her at the last investigation that involved your family. She's quite--” he broke off, then continued as if he had wanted to use a different word, “willful.”
Carlina bit her lips. “She wanted to convince Trevor to marry her.”
“Had she proposed to him yet?”
She flashed him an angry look. “Stefano! It's not a joke!”
“I'm not joking.” He shook his head. “I just happen to know Annalisa.”
She sighed. “Apparently, she had mentioned the subject, and he had not reacted the way she wanted him to.”
“I'm not surprised.”
His words were so low, she almost missed them. “Very funny.” Carlina pressed her lips together. “But to go ahead and kill him is not the right way to achieve that particular aim. You can't marry a corpse.”
“True.” He put his head to one side. “But what about jealousy? Maybe she didn't want him to find a replacement.”
Carlina shook her head. “He usually stuck with one woman during his vacation. If she had killed him next year, I might have understood. But not this year, not while she still stood a chance to marry him. It doesn't make sense.” She bent forward. “Don't you see? Annalisa was the lucky one this year; she had no reason to kill him.”
“Yet.” His voice was dry.
“I think you should look at his discarded lovers. I doubt they all felt serene and happy about it. Even if prepared, it must have been difficult to give up a man like Trevor.”
Stefano frowned. “What made him so special?”
Carlina scratched her head. “It's hard to say. He was quite good-looking, but that was not it. He had charm, too, and an easy way of talking with everybody. He could flirt without making you feel dirty, without being clumsy, with a light touch that made you laugh even if you didn't believe a word.” A sudden tear rolled down her cheek. Surprised, Carlina wiped it away. “He had a lot of taste, too. His lovers were all stunning.”
Stefano blinked. “So every woman he met fell in love with him?”
His words were even, but Carlina sensed a tension. Nonsense. You're imagining that. Garini wouldn't be jealous of a dead American. She smiled a bit. “You can enjoy being with someone without falling in love. Besides, I didn't approve of his morals.” For some reason, it was important that he should know, even if it came out way too stiff.
“Did you tell him so?”
“No.” Carlina shrugged. “I don't have the right to judge the morals of my customers. It's not my business, just as it's not my business where they work and how they earn their money.”
“What about the other women who knew him? Take your assistant, Ricciarda. Did she like him as much as you did?”
“She didn't approve of his morals either, that much is sure.” Carlina remembered their conversation. “But she liked him nevertheless.” She sighed. “That was Trevor all around. You had to like him, in spite of everything.”
“Why are you working with Ricciarda? What happened to your other assistant? What was her name, again? Elena?”
Carlina sighed. “Yes. Her mother died, and Elena decided she had to travel the world to find herself. The last mail I got was from Calcutta. That's why I put up an advertisement and got Ricciarda.”
“So Ricciarda is not related to you?”
Carline smiled. “No.”
“Great. I'll arrest her immediately.”
“Stefano!”
He smiled. “I'm joking. I thought it's easier if she's not from your family, but I forgot that you get just as protective about your staff.”
“She's a great assistant, and I really need her with Christmas just a few days away. So don't you dare take her in.” She lifted the spoon and shook it in his face.
He caught her hand. “I'll do my best.”
His hand was warm and held hers firmly.
Their eyes met, and Carlina caught her breath. She wanted to hold this moment and remember it.
The smile faded from his eyes. “Please be careful, Carlina. This murderer is ruthless. He killed his victim in a public place, inside a church, for heaven's sake, and that should tell you something.”
She frowned but did not pull her hand away. “Do you think the murder was premeditated?”
“I'm not sure. As I said, it's risky to kill someone inside a public church. On the other hand, if he went there often, it might have been observed. Do you happen to know if Trevor was religious?”
She couldn't suppress a giggle. “I shouldn't think so. After all, his morals hardly fit any religion I know.”
“But people are multi-layered. They can cling to a bit of religion and blend out other parts.”
Carlina gave a snort. “It's called hypocrisy.”
Stefano frowned. “I need to find out more about Trevor. How did he become so rich, do you know?”
“His father owned several factories, and he inherited the lot.”
“What kind of factories?”
Carlina smiled. “Rubber factories.” She pushed back her chair and got up. “I really need to go, Stefano. Annalisa needs me.”
Stefano gave the waiter a sign. “I'll join you.” It wasn't a question.
She threw him a doubtful glance but didn't say anything until he had paid the waiter and they were back in the car. Shivering in the cold, she said, “I think it might be better if I first talked to Annalisa on my own.”
A streetlight illuminated his set jaw for a fleeting moment. “I'm sorry, but I have to butt in.”
She closed her eyes. “Didn't you say you want to give up this case?”
“Yes. Tomorrow. I can't do it today.”
Carlina bit her lips. “Listen, Garini, I really don't think it's a good idea if you talk to her right now. She'll be frantic.”
His voice was cold. “Stop this. I can't change the rules for you.”
It felt like a slap to the face. Carlina hugged herself. Of course his work would come first, as always. Why did that surprise her?
In silence, they covered the rest of the way, back to the historical center of Florence. In silence, they passed the piazza di Santa Croce, the basilica watching over it, basked in soft light. In silence, she opened the heavy wooden door to the family house in Via delle Pinzochere and let him in. “Everybody will be having dinner at my aunt Benedetta's, on the first floor.”
He didn't reply.
Carlina grabbed the smooth wooden railing to support her as she mounted the steps. She felt like leading the enemy to a secret camp.
He followed her without a word.
She opened the door of her aunt's apartment with her own key, feeling his disapproval though he didn't say anything. One master key opened every lock in the house. To her, it felt practical. To a man like Garini, it was lunacy.
An enticing smell of fried mushrooms and a babble of voices billowed into her face. Carlina opened the door to the kitchen. “Ciao.”
The babble stopped.
Carlina looked around. Her mother's henna-red hair had fallen out of the ponytail and framed her face like irresolute flames. She had her cushion in her lap, gripping it with both hands as if it was a life-line, crushing one golden star in the process.
Oh, no. Major crisis. In general, her mother only carried the cushion with her if she left the house. If she kept it with
her while going to her sister, one floor down, things were bad indeed. Carlina tried a smile and looked at her aunt Benedetta, seated next to her mother. Benedetta's usually smiling face was grave, and her mouth, though bright with lipstick as always, drooped. She was much younger than her elder sister Fabbiola. Two of Benedetta's children still lived with her, Ernesto, a seventeen-year-old, and Annalisa. Annalisa wasn't there, but Ernesto sat next to his mother. His red hair stood up, spiked with gel, and he had the delighted expression on his face when a catastrophe happened that didn't involve any of his own misdeeds.
Benedetta's eldest daughter Emma had married a few months previously and lived with her husband Lucio in an apartment on the same floor. Both were seated at the lower end of the table. Lucio, his arm around Emma, had been talking in a soothing voice to Uncle Teo, who headed the table but now twisted around to stare at Carlina like all the others.
Carlina blanched. “Where's Annalisa?”
“Carlina! Where have you been?” Fabbiola tried to thrust back a strand of henna-red hair without success.
Uncle Teo's white eyebrows lifted. “You are bringing your young man for dinner? Fast work, Carlina.”
“But that's the Commissario.” Ernesto's face lit up. “Are you hot on the trail of the killer?”
“Carlina!” Emma stretched out her arms to her older cousin as if she wanted to be hugged. “Isn't it tragic? Poor Annalisa.”
“Have you eaten?” Benedetta jumped up.
“We don't know,” Lucio said with a concerned look at his young wife.
Carlina blinked, not knowing what he referred to.
“Thank you for answering the question.” Garini gave a meaningful glance to Carlina as if he wanted to say he had not expected a sensible answer from any Mantoni anyway. He advanced into the room and addressed Lucio. “Do you know how long Annalisa has been missing?”
Benedetta lifted both hands. “She has not been home for two days!”
Ernesto rolled his eyes. “That's not unusual.”
His mother shot him a dark look. “Just what are you trying to say, Ernesto?”
“Santa Maria, nothing.” Ernesto shrugged. “But she's been out and about with that lover of hers for a week, and she's become stuck-up, too, faster than you'd believe. As if she was a Queen or something. I'd say there's no reason to panic.”
Charmer's Death (Temptation in Florence Book 2) Page 7