Violent Daylight

by Caroline Angus Baker

  The moment Canna picked up her suitcase, there was a short knock on the door. Canna dropped her bag just as the door opened.

  “Countess,” Yuri said as he came in the door, and locked it behind him. “You came to your room earlier than I expected. The party isn’t over.”

  “I just came in for a moment,” Canna stuttered.

  Yuri waved an expensive bottle of champagne. “I worried that perhaps the bottle I left in here earlier would be warm, so I brought us another one.” He placed the bottle on the dresser, next to the other bottle, which sat in an ice bucket.

  “Yuri, I don’t wish to drink any alcohol tonight.”

  “You tried my vodka.”

  “Well, I wish I hadn’t.”

  “That bad?”

  “No, I simply don’t wish to drink.”

  Yuri grabbed Canna and pulled her against him. “You know how much I want you, don’t you?”

  Canna felt his erection against her leg. One of his hands slid down her back, and he gave a handful of flesh a firm squeeze.

  “I can feel when a woman doesn’t wear her underwear,” he muttered in her ear. “I like that. You left them off just for me?”

  There had to be a way of calming the situation. Getting mad or rough wasn’t the best solution. Canna needed to talk her way out of the problem. “Yuri,” she said sweetly, “my beloved husband died three months ago. You need to understand my grief.” Since Canna was the only one who knew she killed Giuseppe, she could lie all she wanted. Where was Giancarlo when she needed him?

  “I know, my little one,” Yuri said in her ear, and as the wandering hand continued to knead her body, “but I can mend your broken heart.”

  “That will take all night,” she murmured. “Your guests will miss you. We must wait until they leave.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Yuri said with a dirty laugh. “But first, let me have a look under your dress, so I know what I’m getting.”

  “That would be cheating,” Canna said as she tried to get herself out of his clutches.

  “You will do as you’re told in my house.”

  “I never do what I’m told.”

  “You like men to be rough with you? Terrific news.”

  Canna slapped him hard against the cheek. Being pleasant wouldn’t work with Yuri. “Get your hands off me!”

  “You little bitch! Now I’ll have you just for fun. My cock needs to teach you a lesson.”

  Canna grabbed his face, the way Giancarlo had taught her, in an attempt to gouge his eye. He cried out and fell to his knees with his face in his hands. “Whore!” he cried. “I will hurt you and your little friends for this!”

  Canna watched him stumble to his feet, and she panicked. She turned and saw the champagne bottle on the dresser. A quick tap to the head had rendered Giorgio unconscious on the Caraceni jet for almost an hour. She swiped up the heavy bottle by its neck and swung it at the oncoming Russian. With a dull thud, the bottle connected with his forehead and he fell straight back.

  Canna took a few deep breaths, and looked at the bottle, which didn’t have a mark on it. “Jesus, this is becoming a habit,” she muttered.

  Yuri didn’t move. Not a fraction. Canna looked down at him; his eyes were wide open. The wound of the forehead seemed minor, but the dark blood that trickled from his ear told her everything she needed. Yuri Dementyev was dead.

  Oh God. Canna had killed someone. It wasn’t as thrilling as she hoped it would be. Giuseppe’s death was easy and painless, but this was the opposite. Canna Medici had tried so hard to leave her demons behind, step out from the darkness into the violent daylight. Here she was, just outside of Moscow, accidentally dealing death blows to billionaires.

  Giancarlo wasn’t in Moscow. He would know what to do. It would be better to… what? Deny everything? Admit that Yuri attacked her, and that she acted in self-defence? What were the self-defence laws in Russia? How easy was it to bribe the police? Probably not that hard, everyone had a price. But this, the death of Yuri Dementyev, would be high profile. Someone would have to pay. Canna paused and imagined herself in a Russian jail cell. No, she had to lie.

  Canna surveyed the scene. She had barely been in the room, but her DNA would be around if they checked. Yuri had been all over her. There would be dozens of people who saw her leave the party, and dozens more who saw Yuri leave. Giuseppe had always been able to cover up a murder, not Canna.

  Panic set in; Canna grabbed her suitcase, and stuffed the bottle inside. She zipped it up, opened the door and peeked out. The hallway was empty. She stepped out and lifted the hem of her dress. She wiped any fingerprints off the both sides of the handle and shut the door.

  Canna hurried through the silent hallways to Claudio’s room. She pulled her bag open and spread her things about, to make it look as if she had been in there all along. Time to rejoin the party.

  Claudio smiled when he saw Canna return to the group just before they took to the stage for their last set. “Where have you been?”

  “I have been in your room,” she said in his ear, “getting ready for after the show. I want to sleep with you tonight.”

  “I hope that is as much fun as it sounds.”

  “Certainly is.”

  “Hey,” Lea interrupted, “just got word from the stage engineer – they’re ready for you, Claudio.”

  Claudio kissed Canna’s cheek and left her with Lea. Canna’s eyes didn’t leave the four suited gentlemen who went up the stairs to take their places for the final four songs of the night.

  “Are you all right?” Lea asked.

  “Sure,” Canna smiled and looked at her. “Is it me or is it hot in here?”

  “It is warm.” Lea looked at her watch. “Shit, it’s 1am already. Let’s hope the guys can get their voices through this. We need to be able to leave for the airport by 5am.”

  Four hours and they would leave the Elegantnost palace. What were the odds that Yuri would go undiscovered for that long? Virtuosi had just started a beautiful rendition of the Pinkerton’s Farewell from Madame Butterfly, and the crowd were captivated. Canna moved towards the very front of the stage to watch, and Claudio waved to her, before unleashing his voice again. Everyone would be able to see Canna there. She had just used her lover as an alibi for her whereabouts, and she didn’t feel as guilty as she should have.

  Joyous applause swept the ballroom as Virtuosi left the stage for the final time. Both Lea and Holly had already had several inquiries about having them play at other private occasions in St. Petersburg, Beijing, Jakarta and Abu Dhabi. Canna had champagne ready for them all once the foursome were off stage and had signed a few autographs for guests. It was the very same drink she had just used to kill the party host.

  “Congratulations,” she said as the gathered around the tray of champagne flutes. “Once again, four faultless voices have won over the audience.”

  “It’s quite fun,” Henri said. “It’s like hosting a concert, but you take breaks while the guests mingle, and then they take their places again when you’re ready to sing. It’s a novel idea, but I like it.”

  “So, do we retire to our rooms for a few hours, or do we enjoy the party?” Erik asked.

  “We party!” Dane answered for them.

  Canna agreed. If people could see them, they would less likely to be considered suspects when the body got discovered. “The night is still young.” She held up her own flute, filled with juice. “To Virtuosi!”

  “To Virtuosi,” they all repeated.

  “And to Yuri Dementyev, for making new things possible for us,” Henri added.

  “To Yuri Dementyev,” they recited, loud enough for many guests to overhear. Another great way of providing an alibi and no motive.

  One by one, the guests went home. They were unable to say farewell to Yuri, who nobody could locate, but that was no problem. Many of them didn’t like Yuri and only came because it was an elite social gathering. A rumour spread that Yuri had become angry and stormed off when someone
saw Veronika getting fingered by an old guy named Isaak. Other rumours started that a young woman had lured him out into the garden for his favourite treat – a blowjob. Yuri liked them in the dark so he couldn’t see the person on their knees was a woman. Yuri’s bisexuality soon became a subject for gossip as the night continued.

  Canna could swear she felt a lump in her throat when she swallowed. Yuri’s body hadn’t been discovered at 4.30am, when Virtuosi retired to their rooms to change and get ready to leave. They needed to pack up before the excitement of the performance dissipated, and exhaustion arrived.

  “You have been very quiet,” Claudio said as they entered his room.

  “I’m displaying my air of sophistication and dignity,” Canna joked.

  “I’m very proud of you tonight.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, you did. You didn’t drink a drop of alcohol, on a night where the stuff has been shoved in your face every time you turned around.”

  I shoved it in Yuri’s face instead. “Claudio, do you love me?”

  “Is this a trick question?”

  “How can you love me, after all the bad things I’ve done?”

  “Where is this coming from, Blinky? Has something happened?”

  “No.” Canna shook her head. “Forget it.”

  “I don’t want to forget.” Claudio shrugged off his suit coat and started to unbutton his shirt. “I think you’re a good person who has been forced into bad situations. I don’t hold them against you. I never will.”

  “But I had a shot of vodka,” Canna admitted. “I wish I hadn’t!”

  Claudio tossed his used shirt in his open suitcase and reached out of a hug. Canna fell into his arms and began to cry. “Please don’t send me back to rehab!” she pleaded.

  “For one shot of vodka? No, I wouldn’t. But you need to go and see that the therapist that Dr. Riberi recommended.”

  “I have been to Mike’s AA meeting a few times. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s embarrassing to be me.”

  Claudio kissed her forehead. “You can be silly at times. I happy to hear you’ve been attending AA.”

  “I promise I’ll go again.”

  “Good.”

  “I can’t believe I was so stupid. Yuri, he wouldn’t stop harassing me to try his awful vodka…”

  “Fuck Yuri. Let’s leave here without even saying goodbye. Did you hear those rumours that he’s gay?”

  “He’s bisexual, I think.”

  “It’s all so wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Being gay or bisexual isn’t wrong or dirty. It makes no difference to me. The sleeping around, or hooking up with strangers, that isn’t terrible if everyone is aware of the facts. But somehow, it seems wrong with Yuri…”

  “It’s all about money. Sex buys money, popularity or favours.”

  “Exactly. That’s what wrong with it.”

  “Yuri pimps out his girlfriend to his friends.”

  “That’s despicable.”

  “He makes my husband look like a saint.”

  “No man who beats and rapes women can be a saint.”

  Canna sighed in Claudio’s embrace. “Never mind, Virtuosi are now one million Euros richer. Let’s get out of here.”

  A solid knock on the door interrupted the chat. Canna opened it, to see one of the servants. He seemed surprised to see Canna in the guest wing. “Excuse me, Countess. I’m knocking on all the doors to say that the cars are ready for Virtuosi.”

  “I will get everyone gathered to leave right now,” Canna said. “I will see to it myself. Don’t worry about checking any of the rooms.”

  In their tiredness and slight drunkenness, no one noticed how desperate Canna was to get her seven friends into the waiting limos and off to Domodedovo airport. By the time the plane took off, the sun had begun to rise. It wouldn’t be long until Yuri’s body would be discovered in the guest suite linked to his master suite. By then, Virtuosi would be on the ground in London.

  CHAPTER 25

  LONDON

  London felt cold when Canna and Claudio arrived home. They left their suitcases in the entrance way, and they dragged themselves straight to bed. Despite what she had done, Canna felt so tired that she got a chance to sleep. By the time she woke again, darkness had fallen over the city.

  Canna sat up in her warm bed and looked at Claudio, still asleep next to her. The poor guy seemed so exhausted that he had even turned down a blowjob on the plane. He would hate her if he knew what she had done to Yuri. Maybe Yuri deserved it. Canna’s gaze flicked to the doorway of the ensuite bathroom. There was the razorblade, stuck to the underneath of the hand-basin inside the cabinet, and it whispered to her. Canna, here I am. If you cut yourself, everything will seem so much better.

  Canna shook her head and climbed out of bed. She grabbed a comfortable pair of pants and a sweater, and went downstairs, where the gas fire had warmed the house. She flicked on the living room light and pulled her phone from her handbag.

  The moment she turned it on, a message popped up from Giancarlo. Call me.

  Canna pulled at a loose thread on her white sweater while she listened to the phone ring in her ear. “Ciao, Giancarlo.”

  “Canna, where have you been?” his hostile Italian accent replied.

  “I went to Moscow, but we got back to London at about midday.”

  “Why didn’t you ring me when I sent the message? Have you seen the news?”

  “I was asleep. What news?”

  “Yuri Dementyev is dead! They found him in his own blood, lying on the bedroom floor.”

  “Blunt force trauma to the forehead?”

  “I thought you said you didn’t see the news.”

  Canna sighed. “I was at the party.”

  “I assumed that. Canna, what do you know about the murder? Rumours are going wild. My guy, he knows a guard who works out of Bratislava, and his employer went to Moscow. Yuri went missing half way through his own party. A maid found him at about midday, in the guest room next to his suite. Everyone is a suspect.”

  “There were hundreds of guests there.”

  “Tell me what you know, Canna.”

  Canna took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder. Claudio was still asleep upstairs. “I did it,” she whispered. “It was me. I killed Yuri.”

  There was a long pause on the other end. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “He attacked me. I tried the eye gouge manoeuvre, but maybe I did it wrong, so I hit him over the head with a bottle of champagne.”

  “What is it with you and hitting people with champagne bottles?”

  “I didn’t mean to kill him! It was a panic moment decision. I didn’t think he would die.”

  “Did he die straight away?”

  “Yes. I didn’t think a single blow was capable of that.”

  “You must have hit him on the right angle, and cracked his skull.”

  “He fell back, and his eyes were wide open. Blood came from his ear. I didn’t dare try and find a pulse. I just got out of there.”

  “He may not have died straight away, it just looked that way. How large was the bottle?”

  “It was big, larger than the regular sized bottles. Much bigger than the one I hit Giorgio with and this bottle was full.”

  “Where is the bottle now?”

  Canna looked over her shoulder again. “It’s in my suitcase.”

  “You have it in London? Shit, you have to get rid of that bottle, Canna. Go and put it in the bin out on the street as soon as we finish this call.”

  “My fingerprints will be all over Yuri, and that room.”

  “Your fingerprints won’t be in their system. With luck, the maids’ fingerprints will be all over the place, too. But do they know it was your room for the night?”

  “All I did was retrieve my bag from the room, but I never spent any time in there. I decided to share with Clau
dio instead. But Yuri ambushed me in the room.”

  “Did anyone else see you in the guest room?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Did anyone see you in Claudio’s room?”

  Canna paused. “Yes! The servant who came to tell us that the limo was ready, he saw me in there. The staff who took our bags from the rooms saw me, too.”

  “Good. That places you spending time away from the guest room.”

  “When I went to the suite, I told everyone that I was going to use the bathroom. I was gone about five minutes. Then I was back in the ballroom until 4.30am. Hundreds of people would have seen me there, partying with Virtuosi.”

  “Virtuosi have no reason to be suspects either. The list of guests at the party was epic, with plenty of people who can take the fall for this.”

  Canna held her breath. She hadn’t considered someone else taking the fall for her crime. “They can’t lock up someone else for this.”

  “Someone has to take the blame. It’s better than going to prison, Canna.”

  “Giancarlo… I didn’t mean to kill him.”

  “I didn’t suspect you did.”

  “My DNA will be all over Yuri’s body.”

  “Yuri probably touched and kissed 100 women at the party. DNA from many people will be all over him. But the Dementyev’s will want revenge. This is Russian mafia we’re talking about now. You don’t fuck these people around. The rumour is that the Russian police want to pin this crime on the gangs of Ukraine.”

  “Why?”

  “Yuri’s family has a feud with gangs operating in Kiev. The Dementyev family have control over well-connected people inside the police, and they can do whatever they want. Someone will die for this, but it won’t be you.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “You knew Yuri was a criminal, didn’t you? You knew that his oil money was dirty money?”

  “I knew all about the government connections and the money laundering, but hey, Caraceni launder money for the Vatican. I can’t point the finger and accuse anyone of anything. Mafia, though… I don’t mess with them… Italian or Russian. I leave all that to you.”