temptation in florence 05 - seaside in death

by boeker, beate

  Lucio lifted an eyebrow. “And you call that no history?”

  “No, no, that doesn't work,” Emma shook her head. “It's the wrong victim. You see, Carlina doesn't have a reason to bear a grudge, because she got out of the situation as the winner. If she were dead, it would make much more sense, because in that case, this Signor Rosari might have taken his revenge.”

  “Fortunately, she isn't dead.” Garini cut in. “So we'll have to come up with something better. Why don't we concentrate on the facts? What did you do last night after dinner?”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Trust a policeman to revert to his usual form.”

  “But it's necessary, Emma,” Carlina said. “Because it's true that Commissario Pucci doesn't seem to be interested in the truth. He'll take the quickest solution presented to him without looking right or left. We have to look at everything. He won't do it.”

  Benedetta sat up straight. “I was tired after the first day on the beach, so I went straight to bed. So did Leo. We slept all through the night.”

  “Same here,” Aunt Violetta boomed. “I still had to catch up on sleep. The TV was a bit loud the other night.” She chuckled to herself. “Even if I say so myself, that strategy to get my room was brilliant. Oh, and Omar was with me.”

  Her son nodded.

  “When exactly did Signor Rosari die?” Emma asked.

  “We don't know,” Garini answered. “Ernesto found him roughly at half past twelve. He was lying by the pool. I went down and got there at a quarter to one. I'm not a pathologist, but I would say that he hadn't been dead for very long. It was a hot night, though, so that would have delayed rigor mortis.”

  “I was asleep,” Emma said.

  Lucio nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Did you hear anything during the night?” Garini asked. “Your room opens on the garden, doesn't it?”

  “Yes, it does, but I didn't hear anything.” Emma said with a hint of impatience. “I was asleep, as I said.”

  “I thought I heard a firecracker,” Fabbiola said. “When I was getting ready for bed.”

  Garini turned to her. “When was that?”

  “Half past eleven?” Fabbiola shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “Did you hear more than one firecracker?” Garini asked.

  “Yes, now that you mention it, I did. They were going off all the time, so I didn't pay attention anymore.”

  “Then this doesn't narrow down the time.” Garini sighed.

  “I'm afraid I didn't hear anything,” Uncle Teo spread out his hands. “My hearing isn't as good as it once was. And I was tired. The change in the air always does that to me. The first days of the vacation by the sea, I sleep like a log.” He smiled. “Like I used to when I was young. It's a nice feeling.”

  “Thank you.” Garini turned to Annalisa. “What about you?”

  She stared at him. “Why are you asking me?”

  “Because you're the only one who hasn't answered yet.”

  “Carlina hasn't said anything so far, has she?”

  Stefano suppressed a smile. “I know where Carlina was.”

  Annalisa sighed. “I guess I'd better take a lover to bed in the future, so I'll have a perfect alibi.”

  Her mother put her hands onto her hips. “Annalisa! What's this wild talk? Stefano is only doing his job!”

  “Yeah, I know.” Annalisa rolled her eyes. “And we're trying to clear my little brother's name. So, I don't have an alibi, okay? I went to bed and slept, and that was it.”

  Garini frowned. “You didn't hear anything?”

  She gave him a sweet smile. “Nothing at all. A pity, I know.”

  The door to the breakfast room flew open again, and a young man stormed in. His handsome face was marred by a scowl.

  With one quick step, Garini placed himself in front of Carlina.

  “Where's my sister?” he shouted.

  “Finally someone who enunciates clearly.” Aunt Violetta beamed at the newcomer.

  Uncle Teo nodded his head in approval. “Quite nice.”

  The young man gave them a wild look and repeated. “Where's my sister?”

  At this instant, the waitress came from the kitchen, a full tray in her hands. When she saw the young man, a look of dismay crossed her face.

  “Nora!” He darted forward. “I insist that you stop working here!”

  Nora placed the tray on a table, grabbed him, and pulled him into the kitchen. “Don't make a scene, Flavio.” Her hiss was loud enough to be heard by most of the people in the room. Over her shoulder she called, “I'll be back in a second. Please excuse the disturbance.”

  “Really, this hotel has changed for the worst.” Fabbiola muttered. “First the terrible manager, then he turns up dead, and now, we've got agitated people storming through the breakfast room. I feel unsettled.” She clutched her cushion to her chest, squeezing the orange and yellow pattern into wrinkles, and looked around as if she expected the next installment of the terror to start off soon.

  “I find it quite amusing,” Annalisa drawled. “The little waitress seems to have an overprotective brother.”

  “I don't think he's overprotective,” Benedetta looked in the direction of the kitchen door where muted voices indicated that a shouting match was in full progress. “I think he's absolutely right. We should leave the hotel right now. Let's go home where we're not surrounded by dead bodies.”

  Carlina winced. They'd had enough of dead bodies in the last year back at home, but obviously her aunt had decided to draw the veil of oblivion over that little detail.

  Garini put a calming hand onto Benedetta's arm. “You forget that the Commissario asked us to stay. We can't leave just now. Nobody can.”

  Benedetta crossed her arms. “Do you mean we're supposed to stay here all day long? We can't even go to the beach? What kind of holiday is that?”

  Garini hesitated. “Let's do it like this. We'll make a list of our cell phone numbers and leave it at reception. The beach is just a few steps away. If the police want to see any of us, they can call us and we'll be at their disposal within ten minutes at most.”

  Lucio nodded. “That sounds good to me. Let's go before he finds out.”

  For once, the Mantoni family acted like one man. Within two minutes, the list was done and placed at the reception. Seconds later, everyone had melted away, leaving the hall empty and echoing. The other hotel guests, who had reacted in varying degrees of horror to the information about the murder, copied the example of the Mantoni family.

  Carlina looked around to see if Ernesto needed any assistance – either to get over his shock, or to escape from his mother, but he had already disappeared without a trace, so she shrugged and left the hotel with Stefano. As they crossed the street to get to the beach club, she took Stefano's hand. “This was a pretty dreadful start to our holiday.”

  “I know.” Stefano sighed. “I called the lawyer just after breakfast, and he said he'll be here by tonight. I'd not have thought that I would ever be happy to see him.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Funny, how things can sometimes change so quickly.”

  “Yeah.” Carlina looked at the blinking sign of a little coffee shop. It said aperto, open, and it was almost hidden by an impressive palm tree in a sturdy wooden planter. “You know what, I'd like to show you my favorite coffee shop here before we get drawn into this investigation again. Would that be all right with you?”

  “Sure.” He smiled. “Breakfast was cut rather short this morning. Which way?”

  “It's called Café Stretto. Over there.”

  Stefano's gaze followed her pointing finger. “Wow. It really is very stretto, very narrow.”

  Carlina smiled. “It used to be a garage between two beach clubs. The owner converted it into this café, and it's very cozy and unpretentious. That's why I like it. Besides, I like the play with words – you know, with caffè ristretto.”

  He laughed. “You mean the coffee shop is small and strong, just like the coffee?”

&nb
sp; “Exactly.”

  He opened the door for her and let her go through first. “And how about the food?”

  She grinned up at him. “Delicious.”

  But ten minutes later, when Carlina lifted a crisp pannino with melted cheese to her mouth, her hands sank down again before she could take a bite from her sandwich. She jumped up. “Signor Patelli! What are you doing here?”

  Chapter 5

  The gaunt man who'd ordered coffee at the counter turned around, then he held out both of his hands and kissed Carlina with care on both cheeks. Deep lines went from his nose to his mouth, and his face was so pale, it was almost translucent. There was a droop to his mouth, and the slouch of his shoulders made him look exhausted, even though the warm look in his eyes made it evident that he was pleased to see Carlina. Between the well-fed and nicely bronzed summer tourists who were waiting to be served next to him at the counter, he stood out like a prisoner at an elegant ball.

  Carlina grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to Garini. “ Stefano, I'd like to present Signor Patelli to you.” Her eyes were wide. “He used to be the manager of the Albergo Giardino.”

  Stefano made sure his face didn't show his surprise as he stood up and shook hands. “Please sit down, Signor Patelli.” He pulled a chair forward. “We're just having a bite to eat.”

  “I really shouldn't stay.” The thin man looked over his shoulder as if he expected a ghost to appear behind him.

  “Why not?” Carlina asked, direct as always.

  “I--” Signor Patelli broke off and started again. A bit of color came in his pale cheeks, then he lowered his voice. “The current manager of the hotel doesn't like it if I stay in touch with the guests.”

  Stefano gave Carlina a warning glance, but she didn't need it.

  “He's terrible,” she said, followed by an energetic bite of her pannino. “We're missing you like crazy. He gave the wrong room to Aunt Violetta, which almost caused an avalanche, and he's rude and incompetent.”

  Patelli sank onto the chair and looked at her. “Really?”

  “Yep.” Carlina chewed with energy. “He's a nightmare. What on earth happened? How did he get your job?”

  A bitter laugh was the answer. “If only I knew. I'd been the manger of the hotel for fifteen years, and even though the owner and I didn't always see eye to eye, we always managed. As long as the hotel made a profit, he was happy.”

  “So you made a loss these last years?” Carlina asked. “He should have understood; after all, the current economic crisis is not a little boo-boo to be waved away.”

  Signor Patelli shook his head. “No, that's just the point. The hotel was doing well. But one day, he came up and told me I had to go.”

  Carlina stared at him. “But he can't just do that! After fifteen years, and without any reason whatsoever! Didn't you take him to court?”

  Patelli shook his head again. “No. I had never paid much attention to my contract, and when I looked it up, it said I only had to have fourteen days notice. Besides, I'm not the type to go to court; I don't want to be burdened with all the costs and paperwork and to wait for the result for years and years . . .” He shrugged. “What good would that do?”

  “It might give you some money.” Garini's voice was dry.

  Signor Patelli looked at the table in front of him. “I was afraid.”

  Carlina bent forward. “Afraid of what?”

  “The night after he fired me,” again, he looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “That night, all the umbrellas around the pool were slashed.”

  “Slashed?” Carlina's voice was incredulous. “You mean the fabric was cut?”

  Patelli nodded. “Yes. Someone had slid a sharp knife through the material. It all hung in tatters.” He swallowed so hard that you could see his Adam's apple moving. “It looked terrible. My beautiful pool area, vandalized.”

  Garini frowned. “Did the police investigate?”

  “No.” Patelli shook his head in slow motion. “I called the owner, and he told me that he suspected me because he'd fired me.” His face grew pale at the memory. “He called it an act of revenge.” He bowed his head. “I am sure that Rosari did that, to make me go away quicker.”

  Carlina gasped. “What cheek! All the more reason to go to the police!”

  The ex-hotel manager eyed her dryly. “The owner of the hotel is the head of our soccer club where most of the police force are members, too.” He shrugged. “That would have gotten me nowhere. So I left. Right away.” He looked at Carlina, his eyes huge. “You know, when I was so busy at the hotel all summer long, I often thought how wonderful it would be to stroll along the promenade here, to buy an ice-cream, sit at the beach, swim, with nothing to do.” He gulped. “Now I can do it, but it feels as if I'm cut off from the world. Everyone has a purpose, you see. They all have an occupation; they all know where to go and what to do. But me . . . I don't belong. I'm unemployed.” He said the word with a grimace that showed how distasteful it felt to him.

  Carlina covered his hand with hers. “But you'll find something else. You're a brilliant hotel manager.”

  He looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes. “I can't move on. Not yet. I've got unfinished business here. That hotel . . . it was my life. I can't just accept it and pretend that nothing's happened.”

  Carlina's eyes grew large. “But . . . but what do you want to do?”

  Patelli balled his fists. “I'll get back at him.”

  “At the owner?” Garini cut in.

  “At both. At the owner, Signor Ortadella, and that . . . that manager Rosari.” Patelli spit out the name. “Manager! Rosari is not worth being called by that title. He stole my job. I'm sure Signor Ortadella would never have thrown me out if there hadn't been a special reason.”

  “He never told you why?” Garini watched him with narrowed eyes.

  “Never. He just said he wasn't satisfied with my work anymore. He said the hotel had more potential, just because we weren't booked out in November and February.” Patelli jumped up. “I have to go. I don't want to be seen here.” He shook Carlina's hand. “It was good to see you. Please don't tell your family that you met me. Bye.” He waved at Garini, slipped past the aluminum chairs and vanished from the little coffee shop before they could say another word.

  Stefano looked at his retreating back. The ex-manager had scarcely gone when some members of the Mantoni family poured into the small coffee shop. They were focusing on the counter, not noticing them. Stefano looked away. They would interrupt them soon enough.

  “I can't believe it!” Carlina stirred her cup with so much energy that she created a small tempest. “It's so unfair to fire Signor Patelli just like that!”

  Stefano looked at her. If he knew his Carlina, this wasn't going to be easy. He pushed a dark curl from her face, his fingers lingering for a second on her warm skin. “I understand that you like him, and I agree that he's not a likely murderer, but you have to admit that he's got more motive than anybody else we've seen so far.”

  Carlina stared at him. “On the contrary! He would never have talked in this way if he had just killed him! Why, he was a bundle of nerves as it was.”

  “He could also be very clever. After all, his story was known. I bet we're not the first to hear that he wants to get back at the owner and the new manager. If he really killed the manager last night, coming here and acting like always would be his best course of action.”

  Carlina shook her head. “He's not that cold blooded! Can you really see him killing someone?”

  Stefano sighed. “Frankly, yes, I can.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “No way. Why?”

  “Because he was hurt. That rejection cut him to the core.” He took her hand and held it. “There's a Chinese saying that says you're fired, just in other words. It says “He broke my rice bowl.” That's what the owner did. He broke Patelli's rice bowl – and since that was all he had, it cut deep. He doesn't have a wife or children, does he?”


  “Not that I know of.” Carlina frowned. “All right, I'll accept that he was perturbed. He had a right to be! But that doesn't automatically lead to murder.”

  He looked at her. “So far, we have four suspects: Ernesto--”

  She withdrew her hand from his clasp. “You're not serious!”

  He continued, “Maria Rosari, the widow--”

  “She might have been in shock. It hits people differently, you know.”

  “. . . Signor Patelli, the ex-manager, because his job was stolen--.”

  “I don't believe for one minute that Patelli is a killer!” Carlina crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “. . . and you.”

  Carlina's mouth fell open. “Me?”

  “Yes, you, my love.” He smiled at her. “You've got history with the victim. I admit the motive seems to be very weak; besides, you won the battle with him, so it looks as if you didn't have unfinished business, but it bears looking into. Just to be thorough.”

  She blinked, then she said, her face a mask, “You forgot Aunt Violetta.”

  He inclined his head. “You're right. Aunt Violetta might have killed him as well. Her motive is about as convincing as yours, but she's a ruthless woman.”

  “In a wheelchair.”

  “Which she only uses because it makes her faster.”

  Carlina lifted her chin. “There's another suspect.”

  “Who?”

  “You.” She grinned. “You were found with the body.”

  They stared at each other for an instant, then they both burst into laughter.

  Stefano bent forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “All right. I admit I don't seriously consider you and Aunt Violetta.”

  Carlina gave him a saucy smile. “And I don't seriously suspect you. I happen to know where you were.”

  “That's a weight off my mind.” His voice was grave.

  Carlina grinned, but it faded as she started to play with the small spoon in her hand. Then she looked up. “You suspect Ernesto, don't you? I can't believe he did it.”

  “It would help if we found some proof of his innocence.”

  “We?” She lifted an eyebrow.