Delayed Death (Temptation in Florence Book 1)

by boeker, beate

  "Is she too naive?"

  Stefano almost laughed. "No way. She knows all their faults." His voice turned bitter. "She finds them amusing."

  "A woman with integrity, then."

  "Yes."

  Cervi looked at his hands. "I got a call from the mayor of Florence today."

  Oh, no.

  "It seems Nicolò Alfredo Mantoni had a few connections in certain circles. The mayor wishes to be informed regularly about the case."

  Stefano clenched his teeth. "I'll send you an update every two days, if you wish. Your son is busy right now writing up our notes."

  "That's good." Cervi nodded. "We need to make sure that the mayor is happy with our work." His eyes narrowed. "I think you understand."

  You mean we depend on his support if we want to stay in our jobs. Stefano suppressed a sigh. "Yes."

  "Fine." Signor Cervi stood up. "Thank you for your report." He picked up a gold fountain pen from his desk and placed it into his jacket. "Oh, by the way, is everything all right with Piedro?"

  Stefano bent down to redo his shoelace. "His motor bike broke down."

  "Yes, he told me."

  A knock came on the door, then the receptionist Gloria poked in her head. "Your visitor has arrived, Signor Cervi." She winked at Stefano. "Ciao, Stefano."

  "Ciao, Gloria." You came just in time. Stefano straightened and nodded at his boss. "I'll give you the report later this afternoon." At the door, he stopped. "Oh, Signor Cervi?"

  "Yes?"

  "How come you know Caroline Ashley?"

  "Who?"

  "The Mantoni I just interviewed."

  Cervi grinned. "My wife likes gifts from her store."

  II

  Carlina walked straight through a flock of doves without seeing them. She held her back so stiffly it hurt, clenched her fists and marched on with grim determination, but her eyes still smarted with tears. What an idiot I am. What an absolute idiot. He played me. He pushes me around as if I'm a stupid field mouse. She crossed the antique market ignoring the gilt mirror frames and elaborate porcelain bowls and plunged into a narrow street beyond. I can't avoid running into his traps, even if I see them coming. She swerved from the sidewalk to make room for a black poodle sniffing at a house entrance. I should never have mentioned the story about the dog. I should never have mentioned Mama. She bit her lip. A metallic taste of blood spread in her mouth. Great. How stupid are you, Carlina? And worst of all, why do you melt the instant he smiles? He uses his smiles as part of the interrogating technique. She shook her head and marched on, her feet hammering the cobbled street. What if he arrests me tomorrow? I need to do something to save Temptation. Elena can't cope on her own. A three-wheeled pasta delivery van came toward her. Carlina pressed herself into a house entrance until it had passed with two centimeters to spare on both sides. In her mind, she went through the possible stand-ins. Benedetta? She had to work. Annalisa? She was busy at university. Carlina swallowed. I have to ask Mama. She will fall asleep in the middle of the day, resting her head happily on her cushion right on top of the cash counter, and the tourists will rob Temptation empty without the slightest hitch. She shuddered. Oh, God.

  III

  Angela's heels clicked on the marble floor as she led the Commissario to the sitting room. "I'm afraid Marco is not at home right now, Commissario. You'd think that as a doctor new in town, it would take some time to establish a reputation, but he is always booked out."

  "That's no problem. I can first talk to you." Garini followed her into the room. The sunlight poured through the high windows and played on the deep red Persian carpet which covered the largest part of the floor. Thick curtains in a matching red framed the windows. Garini lifted his eyebrows. What a beautiful and expensive room.

  "Please have a seat." Angela gestured at the antique sofa with a red-gold brocade seat and matching cushions.

  Garini sat down and looked at the elegant woman in front of him. "I have come to talk to you about your grandfather."

  Angela took out a white lace handkerchief and touched it to her large eyes. "Poor grandpa."

  "Before we start, I would like to ask for your permission to record our conversation." Garini switched on the recorder and placed it on the marble table in front of him.

  "Of course you can record my statement." Angela pressed the lace to her lips. "I want to do everything I can to catch this ruthless murderer."

  She thinks she's in a movie. "Quite." Garini focused on her. "Your grandfather had fallen into a habit of telling the so-called bad past stories."

  Angela gave a pretty smile. "He always had these unusual ideas, the dear."

  The dear, my foot. "Please tell me what he said about your past."

  Angela sighed. "I have to explain a bit more about our family to make you understand. My mother is his eldest daughter, and she always was the apple of his eye."

  "Your mother's name is Alberta, is that correct?"

  "Yes." Another pretty smile. "I don't think you've met her."

  "No." She's the one whose dachshund was flattened like a pancake.

  "Why do you smile?"

  "Oh, it's nothing." Stefano concentrated on straightening his face. "Please continue."

  "My mother married a very rich man, but he died early. It was so tragic." Angela sighed and leaned against the brocade cushion, playing with the string of pearls around her neck. "She mourned him for many years, but ten years later, she found another man worthy of her love."

  I'm going to be sick in a minute.

  "My father Clement is a professor at the Università degli Studi di Firenze. He's a wonderful man." She sighed.

  "Please continue, Signora Mantoni-Canderini."As you've now made it clear how important you are.

  "Well, I am just like my mother and waited for many years for the right man."

  He couldn't resist. "Just like your cousin Carlina." The nickname slipped out before he could stop it.

  Angela sat up straight. "Who? I don't think you can compare me to Caroline."

  No, indeed.

  "When I met my Marco during the Christmas party at the golf course, I knew I had met the man of my life."

  Congratulations.

  "Do you know the Poggio dei Medici Golf and Country Club, Commissario?"

  "No."

  Angela straightened her cashmere sweater. "It's a most exclusive place, and oh, the memories." She sighed. "It was a whirlwind romance. Six months later, we were married."

  "You wanted to tell me about the bad past story, Signora Mantoni-Canderini."

  "I am coming to that, Commissario." Angela smiled through her lashes. "My grandfather mistrusted my choice, just because Marco is from Rome and not from Tuscany." She smiled. "I'm afraid the old dear wasn't much of a cosmopolitan. He would have preferred it if I had married the local cook."

  "Not the garbage man?"

  She blinked. "I bet your pardon?"

  She brings out the worst in me. "Nothing. I'm sorry I interrupted you. Please go on."

  Her look showed she found him odd. "My Marco is not only good-looking. He's also from a rich family and started less than a year ago to work as a general practitioner here in Florence." A self-satisfied smile played around her lips. "No wonder everybody thought it was too good to be true." She patted her long hair. "I myself often can't believe it."

  "And the bad past story, Signora Mantoni-Canderini?"

  "But I am telling you, Commissario." Her dark eyes narrowed. "My grandfather thought it couldn't be true. He was disgruntled because I had rejected the cook, so he made up a tale that I had blackmailed Marco into our marriage." She trilled a laugh. "It was a great joke among the family."

  "Did he mention what you used to blackmail him?"

  She opened her eyes wide. "But Commissario! I've just explained everything to you; how can you ask such a stupid question? He made it all up, so of course he gave no details."

  "I see. How about the other stories? Do you believe any of them were true?"

&nb
sp; Angela patted her hair again. "I seriously don't recall them. You know, my grandfather was becoming a bit . . . shall we say odd? I didn't pay that much attention."

  Garini nodded and got up. "Thank you for your time."

  "You will want to talk to Marco too." Angela followed him to the door. "But I don't know when he'll be back. He works so hard, the poor darling."

  "That's fine. I can always go and see him at his work."

  Angela stretched out her hand in a gesture that came straight from a Verdi opera. "Oh, but please don't mention our conversation to him. He has no idea what Grandfather said, and he told me just yesterday that he even liked him." For an instant, she looked as if she couldn't understand this aberration of her husband. "I wouldn't want to disillusion him for the world."

  IV

  "And what's this?" Fabbiola stood in front of the cash register of Temptation and squinted at the golden display next to her. It was formed like a twisted horn that reached up to her hips, and it had an elegant engraving at the side that said 'special offers'. A puzzled expression crossed Fabbiola's face as she lifted one light-blue piece of lace up for closer inspection.

  The sun glimpsed through the open door of Temptation and lured them outside with its golden light. Carlina longed to follow its siren call. Instead, she suppressed a sigh and continued training her mother. "It's a thong, Mama."

  Fabbiola lifted one eyebrow. "You can't even use it as a handkerchief. Too many holes." She peered at the price Carlina had written with a gold pen onto the tag. "What's that? You want nine Euros for a bit of lace?" She turned to her daughter. "I have to say, Carlina, I had no idea what ridiculous prices you charge. Don't you think that's robbery?"

  Carlina set her teeth. "You can ask Signora Barberini if her rent is robbery, then talk to me about my prices."

  "Ah." Fabbiola nodded. "I can imagine how ridiculous her rents are. She has never been a generous woman."

  Carlina shrugged. "We're on Via Tournabuoni, Mama. Signora Barberini charges a normal rent for one of the top locations in Florence. She may not be generous, but she's fair. I like her."

  Fabbiola sniffed and glanced at a man standing in front of the window. His nervous gaze darted over the bras on display, and he bit his lips as if working up the courage to come inside. "Do you ever have men as customers?"

  Carlina nodded. "I do. Not as many as women, but yes."

  Fabbiola shook her head from left to right. "Your father would have died of mortification if he had ever set a foot inside a lingerie store."

  A twinge went through Carlina. Don't answer. She turned away and fluffed up the thongs in the golden horn display, then went to the right where a rose bra with matching slips was displayed. "You can see I have drawers for all bra sizes underneath each model shown. It always starts with the smallest size on the left hand side in the top drawer and ends with the biggest size." She knelt and pulled out a drawer on smooth hinges. The rose colored model above appeared, each bra folded together. The symmetry of the display never failed to please Carlina. "Look here, Mama. When you follow that order, it's easy to find everything, and we don't have to clutter up the small storage room in the back. The slips are no problem because there are just three sizes, but the bras would otherwise fill rooms." She couldn't disguise the pride in her voice. It had taken ages to get the drawer system working properly because the first carpenter had not worked with precision and it had been a tug-of-war to make the mechanism function, but now, it was a gem and Carlina enjoyed the soft feeling of the drawers gliding in and out without a hitch.

  Fabbiola looked around. "The store really is tiny, isn't it?"

  Carlina felt like a mother with a child too small for its age. She wanted to fling her arms around Temptation and tell everybody to go to hell.

  "Yes." Carlina clenched her teeth. "Do you want to comment on anything else? So far," she ticked each argument off her fingers, "you said I charge too much, you said Temptation is too small, and you said dad would have been mortified if he had seen my store." Her voice rose. "I don't believe that for one moment! I'm an independent woman. I earn my own money, and it gives me a comfortable living. Underwear is nothing reprehensible; it's necessary." She glowered at her mother. "I think it was a bad idea to ask you to tend my store. You have no idea how to run my business."

  Fabbiola stared at her daughter with wide open eyes. Her mouth slack, she went to the cash counter, where she had placed her cushion. "You really are touchy, Caroline Arabella. I've offered to help, but if you think I'm not good enough, that's no problem at all." She picked up the cushion and went to the door. "No problem at all," she repeated. Her voice floated through the door, then she was gone.

  Carlina covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

  When she finally suppressed a hiccup and wiped her eyes, she saw Garini standing in front of her.

  "Madonna." She closed her eyes. "I'm having apparitions." She averted her gaze and hunted through the pockets of her jeans for a handkerchief.

  "It's not an apparition," he said.

  "And it speaks." Carlina suppressed another hiccup and darted a glance from the corner of her eyes. He was still there. Oh, God.

  He held out a paper tissue. "This what you're looking for?"

  She took it. "Thanks." She wiped her eyes with rigorous care in the hope that she wouldn't smear mascara up to her eyebrows, then blew her nose.

  Garini watched her like a man who had all the time in the world, his stance relaxed, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

  Carlina swallowed. "Is this store tiny?"

  "Yes." He spoke without hesitation.

  Of course it is. "Is it expensive?"

  "Yes." Again, he didn't hesitate.

  His answer was right, and it enraged her. She flashed an angry glance at him. "Do you never make compromises?"

  "Rarely."

  She knew she should stop right now, but her emotions took a firm hold of her saner instincts and roller-coasted ahead. "Are you never perturbed by anything?" She flung it out like a challenge.

  A small smile appeared in the corner of his mouth. "I am. All the time."

  She threw him a dark glance. "It doesn't show."

  "It's not supposed to."

  There. Now he put me into my place. Carlina swallowed. "Anything else you want? I've already told you all the family secrets."

  He was silent.

  Their eyes locked.

  "Why did you cry?" His voice sounded soft.

  She pressed her lips together. "Do you think my father would have been mortified that I own a lingerie store?"

  He lifted his eyebrows. "Not unless he was bigoted."

  She turned away and adjusted a hanger that was already hanging straight. "He wasn't."

  "Then he would have been proud of you."

  Carlina swiveled back to him. "What? Why?"

  "You're loyal, hardworking, successful." He said it without any apparent emotion. "What parent wouldn't be proud?"

  She narrowed her eyes. "I don't need your irony."

  His face closed.

  Carlina felt it like a kick in the stomach. What if he had been serious? Don't forget he's still the Commissario, trying to find a killer. "What do you want?" Carlina folded her arms in front of her chest. "You came here for a reason, didn't you?"

  He shrugged. "I was on my way home, and I--"

  She narrowed her eyes. "Where is home?"

  "I live next to the Hotel Porta Rossa." He answered her question with a smile, as if he understood why she sounded belligerent and found it funny.

  "I see." It's close enough to make sense.

  "You forgot something at the police station today, and I thought you would need it." He moved to the side so she could see the cash register. Her helmet with the leopard print sat on top as if it belonged there. "You didn't hear me when I came in," he added.

  How embarrassing. It wasn't like her not to notice people walking into her store. "It seems you have a knack of moving without making
a sound."

  He smiled. "I have that reputation, yes."

  "Thanks for bringing the helmet." She nodded in what she hoped was a dismissive way. "Good-bye, then."

  He inclined his head. "We'll see each other again."

  No doubt. Carlina wondered if it had been a promise or a threat.

  Chapter 11

  I

  "Carlina!" Lilly ran into Temptation and hugged her aunt.

  Carlina lifted her niece and buried her face in Lilly's fragrant hair. "It's good to see you, cara."

  Lilly squirmed. "You're squashing me!"

  "Oops, sorry." Carlina put Lilly back onto her feet. "Where is your Mama?"

  "She's still next door, but she said I could already go ahead to Temptation." Lilly's gaze fixed on a red bra with little flowers in white. "Oh, Carlina, this is so pretty!" She stood on tiptoe and took it off the hanger, then placed it across her chest and paraded around the store. "Does it look nice?"

  Carlina grinned. "Very."

  "Can I have one?" Lilly smiled at her aunt in an ingratiating way that had gotten her almost everything she wanted in the past.

  Her aunt shook her head. "You're not big enough yet, Lilly."

  Lilly pouted. "Yesterday, I looked at the mirror, and I think--" She gave her aunt a mischievous look, "I really think my breasts are growing."

  Carlina suppressed a smile. "Your mother would say I'm crazy if I start to give bras to seven-year-olds." She took the bra and placed it back onto the hanger. "You don't need a bra yet."

  "What's this?" Gabriella came into the store, loaded with glossy shopping bags. "Is she trying to convince you she needs a bra?" Her brown curls looked as if she had been through a storm.

  "Yes." Carlina smiled at her niece. "But I said it's too early."

  Gabriella shook her head and dropped the bags onto the low wooden seat in front of the cash register.

  Carlina smiled. The wooden seat had been an addition last week, for exhausted husbands and women carrying too much to shop in comfort. She was glad it found instinctive acceptance.