Violent Daylight

by Caroline Angus Baker

  “What?” Canna squinted at her tearful bodyguard. “Why? Last night Silvio said I would be fine.”

  “That was three days ago, Catherine.” Silvio looked at Giancarlo, and Canna could see his disgust at her state. Silvio didn’t know of her drug use until now.

  Three fucking days ago? Where was her phone? Had Claudio called? Where was he? Nothing sobered up Canna like the fear of losing Claudio. “I have to get up,” she said and pulled at Giancarlo’s leather jacket.

  “Be careful, Catherine,” he said as he helped Canna to her feet. “If I had known you were here earlier…”

  “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing.” Canna paused while the room spun. “I need to call Claudio.”

  “I can do that for you,” Giancarlo replied. “You need to be prepared.”

  Canna watched Giancarlo scramble through her handbag. He pulled out her sunglasses, despite the fact it appeared to be night. “What’s going on?”

  “The blood test taken from your apartment came back as positive for a match to the body of Giorgio Savelli,” Silvio said. “You’re being arrested on suspicion of his murder.”

  “That’s all they have?” Canna continued to squint; without her contact lenses, the world seemed trapped underwater. Everything seemed murky and out of focus.

  “Detective Fat Face and his department are very determined,” Silvio explained. “Even if they can’t pin the murder on you, they need to create a show where they seem in control. Dragging your name through the mud makes exciting news.”

  “One of the Caraceni family has to pay for this,” she mumbled.

  “I’m afraid so,” Silvio replied. “Don’t worry, in Giuseppe’s absence, Guillermo Savelli is eager to protect the family name, despite the death of his son.”

  “The man must be in shock.”

  “He is devastated over Giorgio’s death. But he didn’t want you implicated in the murder.”

  “But someone did it! Someone killed Giorgio!” Canna croaked. “Why aren’t they trying to figure out who it was?”

  A pugnacious bang on the door heralded the start of the next drama. “Don’t worry,” Silvio said as he headed for the door. “You will be out on bail by morning.”

  Giancarlo handed Canna her gigantic black sunglasses, and she thrust them on her face. The door opened and there was the same Detective that confronted her in the apartment, a number of pre-oral morphine days ago. “Contessa Catherine Ann Medici Savelli di Caraceni,” Detective Bassi said with a grin.

  “That’s me,” Canna said, ready to throw up again.

  “That’s one hell of a title.”

  “I’m one hell of a woman.” She watched several uniformed officers appear through the door behind her aggressor.

  “Contessa Catherine Ann Medici Savelli di Caraceni, you are under arrest for the murder of Count Giorgio Paulo Savelli di Caraceni, known as Giorgio Savelli.”

  Canna smiled as bile rose inside her throat. This was always the outcome. She was evil and it would catch up with her. She didn’t hurt Giorgio, but she killed Yuri, and she ended Giuseppe’s life. Her day of reckoning had come. She put her arms out. “Do you handcuff a woman like this, or are you a coward who ties a woman’s hands behind her back?”

  “That depends on how much you fight me.” Bassi took his handcuffs from his belt. He shook his head. “You Caraceni’s seem so powerful and yet I find you here, in a room filled with vomit. You’re pathetic.”

  Canna chuckled. “Enjoy your moment, Bassi. You won’t have many more once I’m finished with you.”

  “I can’t believe you have any confidence left. You can’t go around killing people in Milan and expect to get away with it.”

  Canna put her arms down as Bassi approached her. She saw Giancarlo step forward, but one of the other officers raised his hand in his direction. Canna looked at Bassi over the top of her sunglasses. She was aware of the mess she must have looked to them all. Quite a fall from grace.

  “This is going to be fun, you little bitch,” Bassi muttered under his breath.

  Canna coughed; a mixture of blood and spit shot across the officer’s face. “Puttana,” he swore as he grabbed her. “You slut, you do you think you are?”

  Canna gritted her teeth as Bassi pushed her face-first to the ground and pulled her hands behind her back. She glanced up to see Silvio filming the incident with his phone. No doubt he could use the footage later if needed. She coughed again as Bassi pulled Canna to her feet. A gentle trail of blood ran down her face as he pushed her towards the door. Her nose hurt; the diamond stud had been forced back into her nose and was also bleeding.

  The streets of Milan had become a circus. The moment Canna limped out of the lobby and into the night, she realised what had been going on in her absence from reality. Milan’s media sat in wait, ready to film and photograph the city’s Countess in her weakest moment. Dishevelled, bloodied and barefoot, she got paraded towards the police car like a zoo animal. Bassi kept pushing her, happy to twist her bony arm with his firm hand. Thank God for her sunglasses to hide her strung-out eyes. The blood on her face must have added to the visual feast for the vultures who pushed one another to see the freak show before them. Giancarlo and Silvio pushed them back as they accompanied Canna, but it was no good. Italy’s hungry tabloid fetish exploited Canna as she was shoved in the back of the car.

  Silvio poked his head into the car as Canna sat back on the cold seat. “I’ll meet you at the station,” he said. “Don’t worry about this circus, we’ll have Fibonacci put a lid on it as much as we can.”

  Canna just nodded as the heavy door slammed shut. The frenzy had been shut out, but she heard their voices through the vehicle. “You’ve out-done yourself,” Canna said to Bassi, who sat across from her with a smug smirk.

  “Maybe it’s time the world saw you people for what you really are.”

  “Why do you hate rich people?”

  Bassi swiped the sunglasses off her face and tossed them in the foot space between the seats. “I hate people who think they can live above the law.”

  “No, you clearly have some sort of vendetta going.”

  Bassi swallowed hard. “Early on in my career, I learned that there are a number of people in Italian society who live as if they control the population.”

  “We do,” Canna scoffed. “We control everything, from the government, the media and the banking system and down to regular people like you. Every nation is the same.”

  “You’re a whore, elevated far higher in the echelons of power than you should be.”

  “Are you saying that you’re jealous you don’t have a vagina that gets results, like I do?”

  Bassi moved his heavy boot and crushed Canna’s sunglasses. “Oops.”

  Canna shrugged. “They cost like €500, that’s pocket change for me.”

  “You don’t even care that your business partner is dead, do you?”

  “Of course I do. That man had a wife and two children. I care very much that’s he’s dead.”

  “I have evidence that states otherwise.”

  “I don’t have to talk to you.”

  “Not yet, you don’t. But soon, you won’t have a choice.”

  The frenzy of photographers had already parked outside the police station when Canna arrived. God knows how much worse she looked without her sunglasses. The fact that Canna was a junkie would be so evident in those photos. There was no way Fibonacci could stop this story from being reported. Even if he pressured his papers and channels, social media would get hold of the story. This was a new reality – the story of the sugar-baby addict who murdered her own nephew, the same nephew she had sex with, behind his wife’s back.

  Bassi paraded his handcuffed prize through the station, to the bemusement of onlookers. It wasn’t long before Canna found herself photographed and fingerprinted, and behind a desk in an interrogation room. The handcuffs hurt her thin wrists. Bassi had stated she was hostile and needed to be cuffed; he was right.

  “
Catherine.” Silvio came into the small windowless room and sat down next to her with a distressed expression. “Catherine, I’m so sorry we couldn’t prevent this.”

  Canna shrugged. “We can’t control appalling police work.”

  Silvio took her hand and leaned in close. “We’re being watched and recorded,” he whispered.

  “I’m aware,” she whispered back. “This isn’t my first time at the rodeo.”

  Silvio smiled and leaned away again. “This will be over soon. I’ve arranged fresh clothes for you. Your assistant, Francesca, had already boxed up all your belongings in the apartment and will send them to your London address. She has unpacked clothes for you to wear today. They can’t leave you in this state.”

  Canna raised her cuffed hands and wiped the blood from her chin. “If I’m honest, I’m too strung-out to make any sense.”

  “That may be for the best.” Silvio opened his briefcase and pulled out enough paperwork to sink a ship.

  The door opened and in came Detective Bassi and two unfamiliar officers. They placed themselves around the room while Bassi sat down across the table. He smiled without a word.

  “I see you’re still enjoying your power trip,” Canna said. “You seem so pleased that you may need to go and jerk off before we continue this charade.”

  Silvio snorted next to Canna.

  “I bet you’re an expert at making men jerk off,” Bassi shot back.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “There are many things I would like to know.”

  “May I remind you,” Silvio interrupted, “that my client doesn’t need to say anything to you.”

  “If she doesn’t, then she is impeding an investigation. An arrest has been made, so giving a quick ‘no comment’ to each question won’t do any favours.”

  “I’m happy to talk,” Canna said.

  “Good.” Bassi paused for a moment as he opened the file in front of him. “Firstly, I see that your nickname is Canna, may we call you that?”

  “No, you may not,” Silvio said. “You may address my client as Contessa di Caraceni. After all, it’s an official interrogation.”

  Bassi licked his lips. Canna noticed the sweat on his brow. “Contessa di Caraceni, did you murder Giorgio Savelli?”

  Canna chuckled. “Wow, you’re forward. No, of course not.”

  “Where were you on the night of Saturday 26 October?”

  “No idea.”

  “Let the record state that the suspect has no recollection of her whereabouts on the night of the murder.”

  Silvio leaned forward to Canna. “Catherine, you need to tell them where you were.”

  “I’m just trying to remember,” she lied.

  “We see that you have been recorded as checking into Beneserre clinic several times this year,” Bass continued. “We know what kind of facility that is – a hideout for junkies.”

  Canna shrugged. “What happens at Beneserre is privileged.”

  “An emotionally unstable addict checks out of a clinic, despite her doctor’s advice and disappears? Sounds as if you could have been on a murderous rampage.”

  “I’ve been in London.”

  “We will need to check where you were and who you were with in London.”

  “My contacts in London don’t need to be bothered with these details.”

  “We understand you were interviewed by Interpol in London, on suspicion of another murder.”

  “No, there wasn’t any suspicion. They simply wanted my version of events.”

  “Interpol cleared Contessa di Caraceni of any suspicion,” Silvio said. “You would know that if you read your notes.”

  “Contessa di Caraceni, did you have an affair with Giorgio Savelli?”

  “No!”

  “We have reason to suspect otherwise.”

  “Then you’re an idiot.”

  Bassi flipped through his papers. “There has been reports in the media that you and Signore Savelli were seen out on multiple occasions together.”

  “We worked together.”

  “Reports suggest more than that.”

  “Reports can be false.”

  “There have also been reports that you own a brothel, with prostitutes used by local politicians in Naples.”

  “That’s all true.”

  “Caraceni Industries isn’t on trial here,” Silvio added.

  “Just establishing what sort of woman Contessa di Caraceni is,” Bassi said. “Clearly she lacks morals.”

  “I don’t think morals have walked into this building in a long time,” Canna shot back.

  Bassi showed Canna a piece of paper. “Look at these,” he said. “They will be published in the media tomorrow morning. Any comment?”

  Canna squinted at the paper. Without her glasses, it was a blur. She brought the images to her face and studied the shots. It was of her trip to Naples with Giorgio. One shot was of the pair of them walking arm-in-arm, locked in conversation. Another one, a shot from a distance, was of them close to one another, with Giorgio’s hand on her cheek. She remembered that moment; she had tripped on the wet runway and Giorgio had grabbed her arm, to stop her from falling. Then, he had reached up and unhooked her earring from her hair. It was innocent. The shots suggested lovers out together. “This is bullshit.”

  “We have a witness at your brothel, stating about how you wanted to buy hookers for Giorgio Savelli because you and he had an open relationship and you wanted to treat him with sex for his birthday.”

  “I was joking.”

  “Sure.”

  Canna bit her lip. Fuck, this didn’t look good.

  “We also have a report of Giorgio going into your apartment late in the night on October 11. What was he doing?”

  “What relevance does this have?” Silvio asked as Canna tried to recall the evening.

  “We found Signore Savelli’s blood in the apartment. What was it, Contessa? Dirty sexual favours, or murder?”

  “Oh shut up,” Canna spat.

  “You didn’t have a warrant to take those blood tests, so you can’t use that evidence, Bassi,” Silvio cried. “You are aware of that. Don’t bring it up in an official interview.”

  “We also have reports of the Contessa and Giorgio arguing at Caraceni Industries.”

  “Bullshit,” Canna said. “No one at Caraceni would talk to you.”

  “You would be surprised,” Bassi sneered.

  “You have no evidence that my client had anything to do with this murder,” Silvio said. “She is grieving for the loss of a colleague and family member.”

  “This that what you were doing at the hotel, Contessa? Grieving? It looked as if you were getting high.”

  “I’m not doing anything illegal.”

  “Can you honestly say that your finances are all legally earned?”

  “Can anyone here say that?”

  “I can play with you all night, Contessa.” Bassi sat back in his seat.

  Canna looked at Silvio, who spoke on her behalf. “I have already had my office start proceedings against you, Detective Bassi, because of all the trouble you’re causing an innocent woman.”

  “Your problems will catch up with you. You people have the police force, lawyers, judges, all in your pocket. One day, the people of this city will tire of being controlled by Caraceni Industries.”

  “In this economy, they are lucky to have an employer and spender like Caraceni helping them out,” Silvio replied.

  “October 26,” Canna interrupted. “I remember where I was that night. I was nowhere near Milan, and I was with another man.”

  “Then I suggest you tell us,” Silvio said.

  “But I don’t want him interrogated. He is an innocent party.”

  Bassi chuckled. “You’re a little whore, aren’t you? You like cock.”

  “I do,” Canna said. “Not that you’ll ever know how that feels.”

  “Let’s read through your history, shall we, Contessa? You were married to Giuseppe Sa
velli, who is now dead. You had an affair with Marino Bruni, who was found with a bullet in his head last April. Your business partner, Yuri Dementyev, was bludgeoned to death a few weeks ago, and now Giorgio Savelli, your nephew, business colleague and lover, has been hacked to death. You aren’t in a position to be coy.”

  “Giuseppe Savelli, a header of business and industry, died of a massive stroke as a result of a brain tumour. Marino Bruni committed suicide,” Silvio shot back.

  “We have a source in the Mayor’s office in Rome, stating that Giuseppe Savelli called the Mayor and asked him to pressure the local police to settle the case as a suicide.”

  “Liar.” Canna sat back in her seat. Still, after everything, Canna didn’t want to believe that Giancarlo pulled the trigger on Marino, and Giuseppe covered it up for him. Giuseppe had admitted to the whole thing months ago. The whole incident still hurt too much.

  “That’s what we have,” Bassi replied.

  “Not relevant to this case,” Silvio retorted.

  “The murder of Yuri Dementyev hasn’t been solved in Moscow. He was killed in your guest room, Contessa.”

  “A room reserved but not used by me,” Canna said.

  “The only case that Contessa di Caraceni is being charged with is the death of Giorgio Savelli,” Silvio reiterated. “Let’s stick to the relevant facts.”

  “All right.” Bassi pulled another photo from the file. “This photo will also be published in the papers tomorrow. Does this man have anything to do with your whereabouts?”

  Canna recognised the photo in a second; Claudio walking the red carpet at the Royal Albert Hall. He had called her over, and she rested her hands on his shoulders while he spoke her ear. They looked so happy. No, please don’t implicate Claudio.

  “No,” she said.

  “Who is this man? Claudio Ramos Ibáñez?”

  “Yes.”

  “A lover?”

  “Yes.”

  “Giorgio may not have wanted to share you.”

  Canna growled at the man across from her. “Fine. I know where I was on October 26. I was in Helsinki.” And if I admit the night with Dane, Claudio will hate me forever.