Peril at the Pellicano Hotel

by Adriana Licio

  Peril at the Pellicano Hotel

  Adriana Licio

  Peril at the Pellicano Hotel

  Book 4 in the An Italian Village Mystery series

  By Adriana Licio

  Edition I

  Copyright 2019 © Adriana Licio

  ISBN: 978-88-32249-07-1

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover by Wicked Smart Design

  Editing by Alison Jack

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  Contents

  1. Arrivals

  2. A Writers’ Retreat

  3. Alamut

  4. The Party-Pooper

  5. Evil In The Air

  6. Affinities And Beyond

  7. Every Question Has An Answer… Or Two

  8. Voleur De Roses

  9. Too Happy At Dinner

  10. Limoncello Tales

  11. Just Another Sunday

  12. The Dangerous Charm Of Talent

  13. On The Roofs Of The World

  14. The Qazvin Bazaar

  15. A Lost Manuscript

  16. Was It Blackmail?

  17. A Confidential Information Clause

  18. The Mexican Villa

  19. The Valley Of The Assassins

  20. An Honest Confession

  21. More Revelations

  22. A Hard Awakening

  23. Life Proceeds Through Progressive Complications

  24. On The Run!

  25. Because The Past Matters

  26. Who’s That Child?

  27. Questioning Is Hard

  28. Aquarium Therapy

  29. On The Sailing Boat

  30. Departures

  Epilogue

  More Books From Adriana Licio

  Join The Maratea Murder Club

  And Then There Were Bones

  Glossary

  About the Author

  1

  Arrivals

  The rain had been hammering furiously against the car windows all through their journey, the wipers working at full speed, so discovering that the hotel didn’t have a proper garage didn’t improve Erminia Spilimbergo’s mood. Instead, there was just a simple outdoor car park awaiting them.

  “I guess the entrance is beyond the palms over there.” She pointed her small curved finger, its nail ruby-red lacquered, at the white building on the other side of a screen of vegetation.

  “You’re right, Mother, but I can’t get any closer than this as the nearest parking places have been taken.”

  “I guess we’d better wait in the car for a few minutes until it stops raining.”

  “It’s been going on like this for a whole hour, not too sure it will stop in a hurry.”

  “Of course it will, Francesco!”

  Francesco suspected even the weather wouldn’t dare to contradict his mother. Instead of replying, he tried to park the car between two pine trees, however ridiculously tight the space was with little room to manoeuvre.

  “Go more to the right, then re-align the car and try again,” she said, turning her head and looking over her shoulder.

  He knew better than to do otherwise. Despite the fact that Erminia Spilimbergo could not drive, she had her own theory on the best way to execute every aspect of the skill, just as she had on almost everything else in life.

  “I hope the hotel won’t be too damp, it’s absurdly close to the sea.”

  “I’m sure they will have some form of heating. In fact, I asked them.”

  “It’s not the same as staying in a drier place, but at least it won’t be as bad as in Portugal.” Their accommodation in Porto had had no form of heating whatsoever, despite it being the end of October when they had stayed. Coming from Udine, they’d never imagined a home without a heating system, so they hadn’t thought to check with the owner of the accommodation. It hadn’t been that cold, to tell the truth, but Francesco had had to put up with his mother complaining incessantly for the entire two weeks of their stay to research the area. He’d learned his lesson.

  The minutes passed by, and if anything, the rain got more violent, the wind stronger.

  “I hope those precarious branches won’t break and hit our car,” Erminia said, looking at the pine trees separating the neighbouring car parking spaces and being shaken up by the wind.

  “Mother, maybe we should make a break for the hotel.” Francesco nervously pushed a pair of rather thick glasses up his aquiline nose, then scratched the black curls protruding all over his large head.

  “You should have cut your hair before we set off.”

  “Mother!”

  “And don’t scratch your head as if you were a monkey.” Then she smiled at him with an unexpected tenderness, as if he were a little child. “Let’s wait here a few more minutes. No point getting cold, only to discover the hotel is colder than the car.”

  He sighed heavily in resignation as the minutes ticked slowly by.

  A red and white Fiat 500 entered the car park and the driver parked easily in the space beside them without any manoeuvring. Two women got out, both laughing loudly as one tried to keep an umbrella open while the other pulled a couple of wheeled cases from the boot. The taller figure stopped beside Francesco’s dark blue car. Chuckling, she couldn’t resist peering in through the fogged windows, only to meet eyes with Erminia.

  “Oh my goodness,” she cried, still chuckling. “You were right, Valentina, it’s the two of them. Erminia, what are you doing sitting there like a dummy? The hotel is just in front of you.”

  The wind howled and turned the woman’s umbrella inside out. From the warmth of her car, Erminia tightened her thin lips and rolled her index finger horizontally to say, “We’ll join you later.” Undaunted, the new arrival opened the car door, indifferent to the rain and the cold hitting the older woman in the face.

  “Come on, we’ve come to the rescue. I’ll shelter you under my umbrella.” She let go of the door handle and, with an energetic flick of the wrist, managed to turn the umbrella the right way out.

  Erminia hesitated.

  “Come on, you can’t enjoy a retreat in the hotel car park.” And with that, the tall woman opened the car door even more and stretched out her hand, determined not to take no for an answer, even from the formidable Erminia.

  Erminia took the woman’s hand and clumsily got out of the car, doing up the top button of her coat and pressing her bag against her body to protect the precious leather from the torrent of water.

  “Francesco, fetch the luggage. Valentina will shelter you with her umbrella,” the tall woman commanded.

  Splashing in the water accumulating on the ground, the two women reached the hotel porch, which only partially shelte
red them from the rain and not at all from the wind.

  “There’s the main door,” said the tall woman, pushing a lock of dark brown hair from her expressive face. “We’re safe!”

  “My feet are completely soaked, Vittoria,” Erminia blurted out. Her beige court shoes had not provided her any protection. “And I hope the water won’t stain them.”

  Behind them, Valentina passed in front of the entrance and dropped her bag under the portico. Fighting to keep her small umbrella open, she then crossed the hotel terrace, passing the white bar tables getting drenched by the storm, and stopped only when she reached the low parapet. Just below her small, thin figure, the black sea was roaring, its waves furiously pounding against the rocks and flying up into the air, drenching the wall and parapet she was facing. She raised her dark eyes. The sea seemed to have eaten up the beach she had seen in the hotel’s promotional pictures. Beyond the mass of water on her right, she recognised the dark mountains through which she and Vittoria had been driving a few minutes before: powerful rocky walls falling directly into the sea, the road suspended a hundred metres above the waves, half way up the vertical mass. The frailty of human beings in the face of the unleashed power of nature made her shudder, while at the same time she was mesmerised by its raw beauty.

  Raising her hood and closing her useless umbrella, she shut her eyes and breathed in the smell of the wild sea, feeling the mixture of rain and spray on her face. She passed her tongue over her lips. They were slightly salty, as if drenched by tears…

  A light tap on her shoulder made her jump. A tall man was sheltering her with a more robust umbrella. The waves crashing against the rocks below were so loud she could hardly hear what he was saying.

  The man raised his shoulders, and then dropped them. His soft smile barely hidden by his thin moustache, he invited her to accompany him inside with a movement of his head. Valentina nodded meekly and he gently embraced her small figure with his arm as they moved towards the hotel.

  As they entered, a plump blonde woman with a huge smile on her face came towards them.

  “Valentina dear, I’m so happy to see you…”

  “Hello, Annika,” she replied, hugging the woman. “Feels so good to be here all together again.” Her eyes lingered momentarily on the man beside her before moving around the rest of the hall. Erminia, at the reception desk, was already complaining about how cold the hall was.

  “Vittoria is waiting for you over by the lifts. As for me, I’d better help Stefano. He’s having a tough time with Erminia.” Annika’s pretty face softened into a grin. “Dump your luggage in your room and we’ll be waiting for you in the hotel bar.”

  Valentina followed her gaze to the end of the hall. There was already loud laughter coming from the bar.

  “That’s our Guido. I guess he’s entertaining Simone with his jokes – and his love of drink. Off you go, now.”

  As Valentina rejoined her sister, Annika looked at the man who had accompanied her in.

  “She is charming, isn’t she, Alberto?”

  “Of course, you know what I think.”

  Then why did you let her go? Men are so strange.

  “Well, your criteria for assigning the rooms are, of course, all wrong.” Erminia was still pestering the receptionist, Stefano. “There’s no way we’re going to accept a room at the corner of the building. I know it will be dreadfully cold.”

  “But madam, the central ones have already been allocated, and I can assure you, you will find your room pleasantly warm.”

  “No! There are more rooms in the other wing of the building.”

  “But the heating hasn’t been switched on in those. We only turned the heating on in this wing…”

  “How thoughtless of you! What about other guests?”

  “There are no other guests, except your group and two others. This wing will accommodate you all.” Stefano was evidently trying with all his might to keep his cool. On the very first week of opening, customers were already complaining. What would it be like by the time the August rush came around, when everyone seemed to think their neighbours had a better room, the air conditioning was too cold or not cold enough, their balcony was too small, their view not as good as…?

  Annika sighed and sidled up to Francesco. As tall as he was, he just stood meekly behind his mother, not wanting to get involved, as he had done for his entire life.

  “Erminia, dear, have you even looked at your room?” she asked gently.

  “No, but I have seen where it is. I don’t like corners, especially on days like this. This man does not seem to understand how unreasonable it is to expect me to pay a lot of money for a cold room.”

  Stefano rolled his eyes.

  “My fault, I suggested you have that room,” Annika explained. “I thought you’d prefer a larger one as you’re sharing with your son.” Erminia was gearing up to protest some more, but Annika cut her short. “As I was wrong, you can have my room – a central one – and I’ll be more than happy to take yours. I had set my heart on the corner room with its wonderful views, but then decided it would be too selfish of me.” She smiled. “Maybe you would like to inspect both rooms before making your final choice. And Francesco, you can have a say, too.”

  “I’ll be happy where Mother is happy,” he said, trying to sound as if the issue was too trivial to bother him.

  Annika turned towards the desk, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. “Please, Stefano, hand me the keys to both rooms. I’ll let you know who’s staying where when I come down. For now, I’ll accompany them.”

  “If Mrs Spilimbergo decides to take your room, I’ll send the cleaner up straight away. She will also help you to move your luggage into the corner room.”

  Erminia did not change her mind. She picked Annika’s room, and the latter was only slightly bothered at having to move the stuff she had unpacked that morning to make herself comfortable in her home for the next week. Dropping her luggage in her new room, she caught sight of the mountains from the balcony to the side and the sea from the one straight ahead. As dreadful a day as it was, the view was impressive.

  But no time to admire it now. I’d better join the others downstairs.

  From the bar, the sound of men laughing and chattering greeted Annika, a sign that at least some of the guests were having a good time.

  And men are so much easier to deal with than women. At least, some women…

  Guido was telling stories in his husky voice with his barely contained energy, and Alberto and Simone were enjoying his tales. Annika looked at the drinks: three tumblers containing a transparent liquid with a ‘fly’ in each, the fly being a coffee bean, leaving no doubt the liquid was Sambuca, an aniseed-flavoured liqueur and Guido’s favourite drink when he was in Italy.

  “So, Guido, you’re already leading the other guests astray with your bad habits,” Annika said as she approached them.

  “Come on, it’s only a little Sambuca, and these two men are so appreciative now…”

  Annika shook her head, smiling. “How about your rooms? Are you happy?”

  The three men nodded.

  “Excellent,” Alberto assured her. A single word from him was enough.

  “You couldn’t have chosen a better place,” Simone said, flushing slightly.

  “The place is amazing,” Guido said. “A pity about the weather, but the road here is impressive. I can’t wait for the wind to calm down a little so I can fly my baby.”

  “A new drone?” Simone asked him.

  Guido nodded enthusiastically. “But mainly a new camera. Shooting from this one is a dream.”

  “Is it responsible for the videos I viewed on your blog recently?” Simone asked with admiration. “The Dolomites, Abruzzo National Park and some motor races?”

  “Exactly, how do you like them?”

  “It’s another way of looking at the world. One more step in the evolution of photography.”

  Guido was used to having all the attention focused on himself, but he
was generous enough never to forget about the people around him. “And how about our plans, Annika? Have we all arrived?” he asked.

  “We’re only waiting for Giò, my friend who lives locally and helped me to organise all this. We’re supposed to be meeting at 7pm to share our goals for this week, but it’s still only 6.30. The four who are upstairs will be coming down soon so we can have a little fun time.”

  “That means we can have one more Sambuca in the meantime,” and Guido emptied his tumbler with a gulp and a laugh.

  “Silly boy!” Annika cried.

  “It will help me feel more comfortable when everyone’s here. I always feel intimidated by meetings.”

  Alberto smiled at him. “You’ve never seemed shy to me.”

  “I try to conceal it the best I can.”

  “Wish I could,” said Simone.

  “Then you’d better finish your glass and have one more with me,” Guido encouraged him.

  “Oh no, don’t ruin him too,” Annika said. “I will allow you more drinks only after dinner. For now, we wait for Giò.”

  2

  A Writers’ Retreat

  A tall figure was fighting to get into the hotel, pushing the door with her back to keep it open as she was holding a large tray in her arms. The tray was wrapped up to protect it against the rain that was pouring down more heavily than ever.