by Beate Boeker
“Yes, he knew about it.” Enterolazzi said with obvious reluctance.
“Did he say when he became aware of the life insurance?”
Enterolazzi looked at the polished desk top in front of him and moved the file two millimeters to the side. “He said that his mother told him about it roughly a week before her death.”
Garini jumped up. “A week before her death? Why on earth did she tell him now, after so many years of silence?”
Enterolazzi shrugged. “I don't know. I asked him the same question, but he couldn't give me an answer to that, either. Maybe she had a premonition?”
Hope surged up in Garini. Here was a motive. A perfect motive. Maybe there was hope yet for Carlina's mother.
The solicitor looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I can see what you're thinking, but take it from me: Ugo would never have lifted a finger against his mother. He was in awe of her.”
“That may be true.” Garini's voice was flat. “However, I've seen a sample of his temper.”
Enterolazzi pressed his lips together. Apparently, he knew Ugo's temper as well.
Garini gave him a short nod and turned to the door. “Thank you for this information. You've been very helpful.”
Enterolazzi came around the desk and put a hand onto Garini's arm. “Will you keep me informed about future developments, Commissario?”
Garini looked down at the impeccably dressed man. “Why?”
Enterolazzi colored. “Let's just say that I feel responsible for the boy. I've known him since he was a toddler, and I promised his mother that I would keep an eye on him if anything should happen to her.”
Garini nodded. “All right. I'll let you know if anything happens that involves Ugo.”
He left the solicitor's office feeling much lighter than this morning. When he came out, the sun had warmed the stones, and an indefinable flowery smell was in the air. He took a deep breath. Spring. It was spring. And he had found a new clue, something that might unravel this whole mystery. He fished out his cell phone from his pocket. He couldn't help himself, he had to tell Carlina of this latest glimpse of hope, even if it was against the rules to let her know. Her drawn face had pierced him, and the fact that she had not reproached him with one word made it all the more difficult.
“Carlina? It's me.”
“Ciao.” Her voice sounded taut. “Any news?”
“A little thing.” He tried not to make it sound too important, so she wouldn't get her hopes up too high. “I've just talked to Olga's solicitor.”
“Oh.”
“He told me that Ugo has inherited a considerable sum due to a life insurance policy.”
She got there like lightning. “That gives him a motive!”
“Yes. I'll dig deeper into his movements now. I can't promise that anything will come of it, but I'll do my best.”
“Thank you so much, Stefano.” She took a deep breath. “And thanks for letting me know.”
“Keep it under your hat,” he warned. “Officially, you don't know anything.”
“Right-o.”
“I'll be in touch as soon as I know more. I may be home late tonight.”
“Of course. Good luck.”
Carlina hung up and squared her shoulders. How sweet of him to call. So there was hope after all. A little bit of hope. She opened the door of Temptation wide and stood a moment on the threshold, enjoying the warm spring air. Unbidden, the thought of her mother at prison came to her mind. Poor Mama. Did she have a chance to enjoy the warm air outside, maybe walking in a courtyard? Or was she cooped up all day? She would have to ask Stefano. How soon could she visit her? If only Stefano would find the real killer.
She frowned. Could Ugo have killed his mother? He had the strength; he had the temper, and he had the motive. Didn't they say that most murders were done by the closest family members? Carlina nodded to herself. Yes. It all made sense. Now they only had to prove it.
She lifted her head and did a double-take. In front of her stood Ugo.
Carlina blinked and pinched herself. No, she hadn't conjured him up. It was Ugo. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Ciao.” Ugo looked over her shoulder as if he had discovered something interesting behind her.
Carlina turned and looked down Via de' Tornabuoni. A few tourists sauntered down the street, looking at the luxurious shop windows, chattering among themselves. Nothing special. She turned back to Ugo who was now staring at his feet.
Carlina followed his gaze. Again, she didn't see anything remarkable, just the crooked flagstones that made up the pavement.
“Ciao, Ugo.” Her voice sounded rough. There's no reason to be afraid. I'm in full view of everybody. Nothing can happen to me. Besides, he must know that Mama was arrested for his mother's murder. He thinks he's safe.
“Em.” Ugo shifted his weight from one leg to the other, glanced at her for a fraction of a second, and immediately bowed his head again. “Em.”
“Yes?” Carlina frowned. It sounded as if Ugo was nervous. But what could he be nervous about? Or was it all an act? She scrutinized his bovine face. No, he wasn't a good enough actor to pretend to be a jittery mass of nerves. But what was he afraid of? The sudden realization that he was less secure than she was made her forget her own fear. “What can I do for you?”
“Em.” Ugo gasped as if he was a fish left on dry land. “You . . . your store.”
“Yes?” Carlina looked at the window. A creamy lace bra with a chocolate-brown stripe at the edge decorated her bronzed window mannequin. Did he object to that? “What about my store?”
“I . . .” He gulped. “I want to buy something.”
Carlina stared at him as if he had said he wanted to become a cat. Then he doesn't know yet that Mama was arrested for Olga's murder. If he knew that, he would never come and buy something. “Oh.” She managed to pull herself together, her professional mode kicking in. This was just another customer who was nervous about entering the world of female underwear! How dense could she be? “Of course.” Maybe he was just looking for a pair of boxer shorts for himself. She did have a small selection of those, though maybe not in the huge size that he would need. She cleared her throat. “Is it . . . is it for yourself or--?”
Ugo lifted both hands as if to ward off a blow. “Oh, no. No, no. It's for . . . for my friend. My girlfriend.” A fiery red crept up from his chest, covered his massive throat and went up to his cheeks.
Carlina had trouble keeping her jaw from sagging to her chest. Ugo had a girlfriend? That was the first she'd heard! Had his mother known she existed? She took a step back and made an inviting motion with her hand. “No problem. Come in. We'll find something for her.”
He stomped through the door like a clumsy giant. His eyes widened when he took in the bras and panties that decorated the walls, then he focused on the cash register as if it were the only safe spot in the store.
Carlina realized that she would have to kick off some heavy-duty relaxation mechanisms before he would be able to give her the information she needed. “Would you like a glass of water?”
“Thanks.” Ugo continued to focus on the cash register as if it were for sale.
It wasn't clear if he had meant “yes, thanks” or “no, thanks”, but Carlina decided not to make his life any more difficult. She went to her little storage room in the back, found two slim glasses with the Temptation logo, and filled them with water from the little fridge below the counter. “Here you go,” she said.
His beefy hand almost made the fragile glass disappear before he gulped down the liquid.
I hope he won't sneeze now, or the glass will end up being smashed into pieces. Carlina gave him an insouciant smile. “Have you already thought a bit more about what you'd like to get for her?” she asked.
The blush covered his broad cheeks again. “She said she liked underwear. So I thought I would surprise her.”
“How nice.” Carlina gave him an encouraging smile. “I'm sure she'll love it. Do you know
her size?”
He stretched out his hand and held it somewhere at his hip. “She's tiny.”
If she's as tiny as that, she'd have to be a Lilliputian. Mentally, Carlina added at least twenty centimeters. “And is she a bit rounded or rather thin?”
That question seemed to throw him, but after much thought, he managed to say, “She's not fat.”
Whatever that may mean. Carlina was aware that the expression “not fat” could cover anything from anorexic to curvaceous. It all depended on the culture and the personal point of view. “Would you say she'd rather wear S than M, then?” she tried to limit the field somewhat.
He gave her a curt nod. “Yes. S.”
Apparently, he was the type who liked girls that looked like his mother. “All right.” Carlina picked a model from the wall that would polarize, thus making it easier for her to determine what he really wanted. It was made from a sheer material in a deep burgundy color with a tiny bit of white lace at the edge. “Would this one fit the bill?”
He recoiled. “Oh, no. She-- she likes black.”
Now they were talking. “No problem.” Carlina put the burgundy bra back onto its hook and went to the next display. “How about this one?”
It was the same model she'd featured at the window, only this time, it was made of black lace with a creamy accent. Ugo nodded. “Yes. This one. Francesca will like it.”
Carlina's head shot up. “Francesca? Your girlfriend's name is Francesca?”
He nodded.
“But--” Carlina gulped. “Is she a glass-blower, by any chance?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Yes, she is. She said she prefers your store to any other in town. I guess you know her?”
Carlina's heart was hammering inside her chest. It's not possible. He can't be Francesca's new boyfriend! What on earth did she see in him? But then, Francesca had always liked her boyfriends to be strong and big. She stared at him, at a loss what to say. “Yes, I know her.” She cleared her throat. “Francesca is one of my best friends.” She's fallen in love with a murderer! Oh, my God. I have to warn her.
He nodded. “And is S the right size for her?”
“Yes. Yes it is.” With trembling fingers, Carlina wrapped up the bra and matching panties in crackling tissue paper with the shiny Temptation logo. She still couldn't quite believe it. Maybe there was a misunderstanding somewhere? She cleared her throat. “Francesca said you met at a dinner organized by the town council.”
He nodded again. “That's right.”
“But . . . are you . . . are you a craftsman?” Carlina had no idea that he even worked. She'd assumed his job was being a full-time son.
“Yes. I'm a pastry chef.”
Carlina blinked. “A pastry chef?” It boggled the mind.
“Yes. A confectioner, you know?” He smiled, relaxing for the first time. “I laughed about it with Francesca. She makes flowers out of glass, and I make them out of marzipan.”
“Right.” Carlina swallowed. It all sounded so harmless, but she had seen him in action, had seen him lunging across the table, trying to throttle her mother. I have to find out more about him. Francesca might be in danger. Maybe, if she loosened him up a bit, he would talk, would let slip something, something that would help Garini to finish the investigation. She checked her watch. Almost time for lunch . . . Before she could change her mind, she heard herself say, “Would you like to join me for a short lunch just across the street at La Piccola Trattoria?” She knew the young waiter, Enrique, well. If Ugo should become difficult, she could count on Enrique to help her.
Ugo stiffened and colored again. “Em.”
Em seems to be his favorite word. Carlina smiled at him with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
Ugo looked at her, meeting her gaze fully for the first time.
All at once, he seemed different, more sure of himself, determined and even sort of – ruthless. Yes, that was the word she was looking for. Carlina's throat turned dry. Maybe asking him for lunch was a bad idea.
“Why not?” he said, very slowly.
It sounded as if he had a lot more on his mind than lunch. Carlina forced herself to nod. It's just across the street. No harm possible. Enrique will be there.
But when they took their places inside the trattoria, a dry little stick of a man appeared and handed them the menus. He was about the size of Ugo's thigh.
“Where's Enrique?” Carlina hoped her voice didn't sound panicky.
“He's on vacation.” The waiter said without interest. “What do you want to eat?”
Carlina ordered spaghetti alle vongole. Maybe the sharp-edged shells of the mussels would provide some sort of weapon if things got rough.
Ugo took spaghetti all'arrabbiata and asked the waiter to make the dish extra hot. Then he turned to Carlina, and all at once, she felt that she was the one who was put on the spot, rather than the other way around. To avoid being asked a question she might not want to answer, she plunged ahead with the first thing that came to her mind. “I'm sorry about the death of your mother.”
His face didn't register any emotion. “Really? But you didn't like her.”
Carlina was taken aback, then she decided to respond with just as much honesty. “That's true. But I'm sorry for you. She was your mother.”
“Yes.” He stared into the distance, his face unreadable. “My mother.”
Carlina tried to read him, tried to understand his emotions, but she couldn't get behind the immobility of his flat face. “You must miss her.”
He scratched his head. “Yes. And no. She wasn't always easy.”
That's the understatement of the year. Carlina nodded and decided that a subtle approach would be wasted here. “Did you often fight with her?”
Ugo reared back. “I--” He broke off and frowned. “I wanted to ask you about Francesca. She told you about me, you said?”
Carlina suppressed a sigh. He had obviously decided to close the subject on his mother. What a shame. Maybe, if she offered him some answers in return, she could lead the topic back to the subject. “Yes, she did, but she only told me the bare facts. She--”
“There you are!” Garini appeared out of nowhere and bent forward to give Carlina a quick kiss on the cheek.
Carlina gasped in surprise. “Stefano! Where have you come from?”
He put his hand on her shoulder and pressed it harder than necessary. “I was just in the area and decided to look in on you. When I found the “closed” sign on Temptation, I looked around and saw you two through the window.” A tiny pulse beat at his temple. “Have you already ordered? I'll join you.” He pulled up a chair and dropped onto it with nonchalance.
Carlina wasn't fooled by his relaxed manner. He's angry with me.
Ugo lowered his eyebrows and sent a look of pure hatred to Garini. “I'm not going to have lunch with you. You should find my mother's killer, not sit around and eat as if there's nothing more important in the world.” He got up so quickly that his chair fell over with a crash and stormed out of the restaurant.
“There!” Carlina turned to Stefano. “See what you did! He was beginning to thaw a bit, and now you--”
Stefano's face was white. “Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Carlina?” His voice was low but vibrated with suppressed fury. “I only told you half an hour ago that Ugo might be his mother's killer! And you turn around and have lunch with him. Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“He came to see me at Temptation!” Carlina could feel her cheeks heating up. “Imagine, he's Francesca's boyfriend! She said she had a new boyfriend, but I would never have guessed that it was him, and when Ugo told me, I simply had to find out more. She might be in danger. In fact,--”
“Now listen, my girl.” Garini interrupted her. “You're the one who might be in danger, lunching with someone who can crack you into two by just taking you between his thumbs. Haven't you considered that?”
“Of course I have!” Carlina balled her fists. “But we'r
e here in full view of everybody, where everyone knows me. Nothing could happen to me here.”
“Yeah. Nothing at all.” Garini shook his head. “You're crazy. And I forbid you to go around town poking your nose into stuff that doesn't concern you!”
“But it does concern me!” Carlina's voice filled the trattoria. “My mother is in prison because you arrested her! I can't sit around and wait for some sort of God to put things right again.”
“Not some sort of God.” His lips were white. “But you might have a bit of confidence in me. I told you I wouldn't let it go.”
“Yes, you told me so. But you know that I can do things that would be impossible for you! Look how far we got as soon as you appeared! He jumped up and ran away when I was just getting to know him. You came at the most mistimed moment!”
Garini narrowed his eyes. “I did, did I?”
“Yes.” Carlina glared at him. “And I would have learned a lot more if you hadn't shown up playing protecting angel or something. It wasn't necessary at all!”
Garini got up. “This is a murder investigation, Carlina, not some sort of game. It's dangerous, and I order you to keep out of it.”
Her chest swelled. “You can't order me to do anything at all! Don't be such a macho! Just accept my help and acknowledge that I can learn much more than you can because I'm not in any official capacity.”
“Pah!” Garini clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw bulged. “Everyone knows we're a couple. Just how far do you think you will get? No, my girl, get this into your head: You're not helping at all by meddling in my investigation. Instead, you're endangering yourself. So stop it now.”
“The spaghetti all'arrabbiata.” The waiter slammed a steaming plate onto the table, then looked around. “Where's the other guy?”
Carlina jumped up. “He left. And I'm leaving, too.” She grabbed her handbag and hurried outside. Stefano the superhero can deal with both meals.
II
“Commissario Garini?”
“Yes?” Garini didn't recognize the voice and wished he had asked the receptionist Gloria to repeat the name. He had too much to do and no time for useless chats. But the discussion with Carlina still hurt, and he had a hard time concentrating on work. Of course it was terrible that he had been forced to arrest her mother, but couldn't she place a little bit more confidence in him?