The Bitter Taste of Murder

by Camilla Trinchieri

  “Please email me their names,” Nico said. “I’d like to talk to them.”

  “I have their phone numbers too.”

  “Good, that’s even better.” Nico rewrapped his sandwich and stood up. “I’m going home to harvest some vegetables. I skip a day, and the zucchini turn into footballs. If Ivana needs any basil, let me know. I’ve got enough to make a kilo of pesto. I’m taking this sandwich with me.”

  “Don’t feed it all to Rocco,” Perillo said. “He’ll get indigestion.”

  “And I won’t? Let me know how it goes with Tarani and Loredana. I’m working at the restaurant tonight, but text me, and I’ll call you back when I can.”

  Daniele stood up. “Arrivederci, Nico.”

  “Ciao, Daniele. Perillo.”

  Perillo waved and jiggled a cigarette out of his pack.

  Nico shook his head. “One day we’ll get you to quit.”

  Perillo laughed. “One day.”

  “Maybe tomorrow. Come on, OneWag. Let’s go.”

  The words “Let’s go” usually prompted OneWag to run ahead of his boss, eager for a new adventure. This time, he stayed behind and followed La Marinella.

  TWELVE

  Perillo and Daniele came back from their focaccia lunch at the café to find Capitano Tarani in uniform, seated at Perillo’s desk. The oversized fan whirred hot air in his face. Not a hair on his head moved.

  “Here you are,” Tarani said on seeing them, with what looked like a smile.

  Daniele saluted. Perillo was too surprised to salute. He nodded instead.

  “I prefer to arrive early rather than late,” Tarani said by way of explanation.

  Perillo stole a glance at his watch. Forty-five minutes early. Was Tarani checking up on them? “Didn’t one of the men tell you where we were?”

  “The chubby one believed you and the brigadiere were having lunch with your wife upstairs.”

  Good for Vince, Perillo thought. Vince knew Ivana had gone off to visit a friend in Panzano. He’d just earned himself a paid trip to the café.

  “I did not wish to interrupt. Lunchtime, after all, is the highlight of the day.” Tarani stood up and moved away from Perillo’s desk. “I’m afraid I’ve warmed your seat.” He took a chair from the back of the room and placed it facing the desk.

  Perillo and Daniele were still by the door, both surprised by the change in Tarani’s manner. Daniele was worried about not being in uniform. Perillo wondered what had happened to change the man’s attitude.

  Tarani waved them in. “Please. It’s your office, not mine.”

  Daniele walked to his desk at the far end of the room as quietly as he could. Perillo squared his shoulders and walked quickly to his desk.

  Tarani sat up straight in his chair. “I have an admission to make. When you opposed arresting Aldo Ferri on suspicion of murder, I did not listen to your reasons. I thought you were objecting because you resented my being in charge, or even that your American friend might have influenced you to protect Signor Ferri. After reexamining all the facts, I see that I acted hastily.”

  Tarani’s admission was so unexpected that Perillo had to stop himself from grinning with satisfaction. “You were under pressure from the prosecutor,” he offered, feeling generous.

  “That is an excuse made by many to cover up their mistakes. I am not one of them. I have spoken to Prosecutor Della Langhe and suggested that we release Signor Ferri today. His response was, ‘For that to happen, you need to find the real guilty party.’ I will not be made to look like a fool.”

  “Holy heaven,” Perillo exclaimed. “Aldo Ferri is innocent.”

  “It is wiser not to comment,” Tarani admonished gently. “From what you tell me, we have the guilty party, if Mantelli’s housekeeper is to be believed.”

  “We believe she heard Loredana Cardini threaten Mantelli,” Perillo said, “but threats are not always carried out, as Ferri’s situation has proven.” He was aware he was being a bit pompous, but sitting back at his desk in Tarani’s presence felt too good. “Daniele called Loredana on the way back from the café. His manner is gentler than mine.” Perillo turned back to look at Daniele. “What did you tell her?”

  Daniele pulled down his shirt. “I told her Maresciallo Perillo wanted to ask her some questions about Signor Mantelli’s activities in the past few weeks.” The maresciallo had dictated the words.

  “Good,” Tarani said. “You sent her off track.”

  “I’m not sure, Capitano.” Loredana wasn’t a strong woman, but he didn’t think she was easily fooled. “She did say she loved Mantelli and would never hurt him. She agreed to come if I picked her up. She has no means of transportation.”

  “Where is she?” Tarani asked.

  “She’s back at the B&B in Montefioralle. Signora Severson has paid for her to stay there instead of the villa. I’m to pick her up at two-thirty.”

  “Off you go then, Brigadiere Donato. It’s good that you are not in uniform this time. You give off a casual air that I’m sure will reassure the young lady.”

  Daniele walked out of the room quickly, before the bloom set in.

  “There are a few things I need to go over with you,” Tarani said after the door closed. “The manager of Mantelli’s bank in Milan called me this morning with the information I requested.”

  Perillo nodded, thinking it was a good thing that Daniele hadn’t called the very same manager this morning as planned. Ida’s accusation had made them both forget.

  “As we know, Mantelli and his wife had a joint account,” Tarani continued, “but three years ago, Mantelli opened a separate account and started transferring money from the joint account to the new one. Signora Severson called the manager at a certain point asking about the dwindling funds. As the new account was in Mantelli’s name only, he could not tell her the whole story. Two years ago, which coincides with the breakup of Mantelli’s marriage, he started to take sums of money out of the new account on an irregular basis. Always in cash. The amounts differed, but they were generally no more than five or seven hundred euros at a time. The manager says this is often the method used to get money out of the country. Small sums can be carried to Switzerland without suspicion. Sometimes couriers are employed, but Mantelli had a perfectly good reason to go to Switzerland, as they, too, have wine producers.”

  Perillo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “The Swiss make wine?”

  “Since Roman times, apparently. The bank manager asked me to share this information with Signora Severson. She has been inundating him with questions he’s not allowed to answer. May I ask you to take care of that?”

  “Certainly.”

  “The carabinieri in Milan were able to enter Mantelli’s apartment only this morning. He had changed the lock before coming down here, and no one had the key. The portiere sent them to the locksmith who had done the job. The search unfortunately yielded no new information.”

  “A lot of time and trouble for nothing,” Perillo said.

  “That often comes with our job, don’t you agree?”

  Perillo nodded. “Daniele and Signorina Loredana won’t be here for another twenty minutes at least.” He needed another espresso and a few puffs of smoke. “May I offer you something at the café?”

  Tarani stood, seemingly relieved. “Good idea, but it’s on me. That’s an order.”

  An order that for once, Maresciallo Perillo was happy to accept.

  This time, for Loredana’s convenience, Daniele parked the Alfa in front of Il Glicine. He was sure she wouldn’t appreciate having her heeled feet covered in dust.

  The owner, Terzini, was at the front desk. Seeing Daniele, he asked, “What now? I’ve told you everything I know.”

  Daniele smiled politely. “Buongiorno, Signor Terzini. I’m here to pick up Signorina Cardini.”

  “You’ll have a hard time doing that. She
’s gone.”

  Was she waiting for him at the turnoff? He thought he’d been clear about picking her up directly at the front of the B&B. “When did she leave?”

  Terzini started going through his reservation ledger and didn’t look up. “Half an hour ago, I guess. Maybe more. I’m not in the habit of looking at the clock every time a guest leaves.”

  Daniele looked at his watch: 2:16. “I’m early.” Fourteen minutes early, to be exact.

  “She won’t be back. She took her suitcases with her.” He looked up at Daniele as if to note what effect his words had on the brigadiere. “Are you moving her back to the Mantelli villa? The room’s paid up for the week, but if she’s not coming back, I’ll re-rent it. No point in keeping it empty.”

  “Did someone pick her up?”

  “A taxi from Greve.”

  Maybe she didn’t want to wait for him and was on her way to the station. “Did you hear where she was going?”

  “Where my guests go is none of my business.”

  Not to the station. Not with her suitcases. Daniele felt a chill travel down his spine. “I need to see her room.”

  Terzini unhooked a key from the board behind the desk and tossed it to him. “Second floor, third door to the left.”

  Daniele caught the key and took the stairs two at a time. She had left in a hurry. The drawers were pulled out, the armoire doors left wide open; two wooden hangers lay on the floor. Daniele knew he needed to call the maresciallo—he reached for his cell phone—but first, just in case, he punched in Diane Severson’s phone number. His heart was pounding so loudly, he was afraid he wouldn’t hear her answer.

  “Yes?” a sleepy voice answered.

  “Signora Severson, Brigadiere Donato here. I’m looking for Signorina Loredana. Is she with you?”

  “Sorry, I was napping and had my earplugs on. What did you say?”

  Daniele repeated his question.

  “No, she’s not here.”

  “Excuse me, but you were sleeping. Are you sure?”

  “No, I kicked her out and told her to stay away from here. I got tired of her drugged-up rants.”

  “Please, could you check? It’s important. The maresciallo is waiting for her at the station.”

  Diane heard the panic in his voice. Poor kid. “All right. I’ll have Peppino look around. I’ll look for her too.” There was no way Loredana was here.

  While Daniele waited, he put the phone on speaker, covered one hand with his handkerchief and searched the room. The two drawers and the armoire were empty. Underneath the bed, he found a black slipper covered in dust. In the tiny bathroom, she’d left the butt of an aromatic candle on the edge of the bathtub. Two towels were on the floor. The wastebasket yielded only used tissues and makeup wipes.

  Diane’s voice came back into the room. “No, she’s not here.”

  “The villa is big. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. She wouldn’t give me back the keys to the villa, so I had the locks changed on Saturday. She would have had to come in through an open window. Do you want me to give you her mother’s number? She called here yesterday asking for her.”

  “Yes, please.” He took out his pen and wrote the number down in his small notebook. “Thank you.” The thought that she might be going home to her mother eased his panic for a moment. They would find her. He had obviously frightened her. He thought he had been as gentle as possible over the phone, but not gentle enough. Or maybe too gentle.

  Downstairs, he tossed the key back at Terzini. It fell on the desk.

  “There are two taxi services in the area. Do you know which one she called?”

  “I’m sorry. You’ll have to find that out for yourself.”

  In the car, he called Perillo and explained what had happened.

  “Shit!”

  “Do you want me to call the taxi services?” Daniele asked in a shaky voice.

  “No, I’ll do it. First, find out from Terzini what she was wearing, then come back to the station.”

  “Signora Severson gave me Loredana’s mother’s number. I’m going to call her now. Maybe she’s on her way home.”

  Perillo heard the hope and the dismay in Daniele’s voice. “Okay.” His brigadiere was going to somehow blame himself for Loredana’s flight. “Listen, Daniele, this has nothing to do with you. Loredana Cardini is smart. She understood we were onto her, and she ran. Wherever she went, we’ll find her. We need to know what she was wearing.” Perillo clicked off.

  Daniele got out of the car and went back into the B&B. Terzini was still at his desk.

  “Excuse me Signor Terzini, but can you tell me what Signorina Loredana was wearing?”

  Terzini looked up with a spark of excitement on his normally inanimate face. “You’re going after her, eh? You think she’s the killer, isn’t that right? You want to know what she was wearing so you can track her down. It should be easy to find her. She likes to be noticed. Her black pants were tight enough to show a pimple on her ass, and her white top showed half her melons. I didn’t look at her shoes. As for the suitcases, Gucci, my wife told me. That’s the kind of stuff that catches a woman’s eye.”

  “Thank you.” Daniele walked out, hoping never to deal with Signor Terzini again. He drove the Alfa to the end of the street and stopped to text what he had just learned to Perillo. When that was done, he called Loredana’s mother.

  “Coming here?” the woman asked in a raucous voice. “Not a chance. I’ve got better things to do than take care of that tramp.”

  Daniele squeezed his eyes shut, as if momentary blindness would erase those ugly words.

  “And for your information, she’s not my daughter. She belonged to my husband. He dropped dead, and all I got after eight years of working myself to the bone for him was her.”

  “Why did you call her yesterday?” His eyes were now wide open.

  “She hasn’t sent me my money.”

  “She sends you money?”

  “She sure does, and tell her it better show up quick, or else I’ll tell that fancy man of hers what she used to sell for pocket money.”

  “That fancy man is dead,” Daniele blurted out, his disgust now wrapped in anger.

  Loredana’s stepmother reacted to the news with one word. “Fuck!”

  Daniele clicked off, nausea rising to his throat.

  At five that afternoon, Nico and OneWag stood in front of Enrico’s shop, waiting for the owner to lift the rolling shutter. While picking zucchini and first string beans earlier, he’d noticed how lush his chive bush was. That gave him an idea.

  OneWag barked. Something had hit the shutter from the inside. Enrico liked to take his afternoon nap in the back room of the store. He said the aroma of food calmed his soul.

  “Ciao, Enrico,” Nico called out. The shutter came up and Enrico came out.

  “Ehi, Nico.” He looked down at the dog. “I already know what you want. Come on in, Nico. You, Rocco, have to stay out here.”

  OneWag instantly sat.

  They walked through the multi-colored beaded curtain that kept the flies from entering. “First, let me cut off a slice of Norcia prosciutto for my small friend. You’ll get the fresh second slice.” Enrico picked up a thigh of dark prosciutto and sliced it by hand. The second slice he cut by machine. He held both out over the counter.

  Nico lifted them off his finger. “You spoil us. Thank you.” He parted the curtain and tossed the drier slice out to OneWag, who caught it on the fly.

  Enrico rested his soft, kind eyes on Nico’s face while he enjoyed his delicious snack. “You’re a good customer, and I like what you did for Aldo the other day in the piazza. If he’s a murderer, than I’m the pope.” He shook his head several times. “This whole world is going crazy.” He sighed. “So what do you need?”

  “A kilo of grated Parmigiano Reggiano, please.”r />
  “I’ve got half a kilo grated from this morning. Give me a minute and I’ll feed the other half to the grater in the back.”

  Nico’s phone went off while he waited. He clicked and stepped outside. “How did it go with Loredana?”

  “It didn’t,” Perillo said. “Daniele went to pick her up and she was gone. Packed her things, called a cab at 1:36 and now we don’t know where she is.”

  “Where did the cab take her?”

  “All the way to Lamole. Dropped her off at the restaurant there at 2:22. When I saw her at Il Glicine to give her the bad news about Mantelli, one of the things she mentioned was how she loved the view from there. We went up there looking for her. The head waiter there said she wanted to eat lunch on the terrace, but the whole restaurant was booked. He recognized her from previous visits and was very apologetic about not being able to accommodate her. He said she didn’t look well. He offered to seat her in the back on a makeshift table. She laughed and said only the terrace would do. She said she’d come back another time and left. Another waiter said he saw her pick up her suitcases and walk up the road, and that was the last they saw of her. I sent my men up there, and Tarani added some of his. Beyond the small town, the area is full of woods and hikers. No trace of her so far. She couldn’t have walked far carrying two suitcases. Someone must have picked her up.”

  “Is anyone knocking on doors?”

  “Daniele, Vince and Dino are doing that now. So far, nothing. With her looks, if anyone else had seen her, they’d remember.”

  “She must have parents, relatives she might have called. Do you know who they are?”

  Perillo repeated Daniele’s conversation with Loredana’s stepmother.

  “No love there.” That must have contributed to Loredana’s drug use, Nico thought. “What did Diane say?”

  “She claims the first she’d heard of Loredana having left the B&B was when Daniele called her. She says she has no idea where she could have gone.”

  “What about Verdini?”

  “According to Ginevra, he’s at a meeting at the Casa Chianti Classico in Radda. I called him in case he’d heard from her. He says he has no idea where Loredana is and doesn’t care. I’ll check with the Casa later to make sure he was there. We’ve contacted all the carabinieri stations in the Tuscan area, the Florence and Pisa airports, train stations. We’re sending out the only picture of her Daniele found on Mantelli’s computer. Della Langhe is screaming his throat raw, but it looks like he’ll release Aldo.”