Tricky Death

by Beate Boeker

  Carlina blinked. This kind of disjointed conversation was typical for her family, but it still felt surreal.

  “Tomorrow, I've got another date with the governmental agency to go over the details,” Aunt Violetta continued. “I went there last week, but I didn't have all the right papers.”

  Fabbiola glared at her. “Oh, so they have enough money to create a governmental agency that occupies itself with gambling? This is appalling. They should put our tax money to better use!”

  “Keep your hair on.” Aunt Violetta sniffed. “It's called the Agenzia delle Dogane e dei Monopoli, and as you can tell from the name, they busy themselves with all kinds of other things as well, like customs and monopolies. But they are also in charge of issuing gambling licenses.” She pulled back her shoulders. “And I'm going to get a license for my innovative business from them.”

  “But what exactly is this innovative business?” Carlina asked.

  Ernesto cocked his head to the side. He was having the time of his life, judging from his broad grin. “Aunt Violetta will set up a racing course for guinea pigs, so you'll have the chance to bet on them while they race. My favorite is Grazia Afrodite Venere, the only female in her current stable.”

  “Grace Aphrodite Venus …” Carlina was speechless. “Who ever thought of giving a guinea pig such a presumptuous name?”

  Her question was ignored.

  Emma jumped with both feet right into the game. Carlina guessed it distracted her from her missing husband. “Why is this guinea pig with the fancy name your favorite?” She looked at her brother.

  Ernesto grinned. “Because she's so fat, she often just blocks the way. Then the others can't get past her to reach the goal.”

  “Oh, Madonna.” With a feeble move, Fabbiola pushed a strand of henna-red hair from her face. “I can't believe we're having this conversation.”

  “Honestly, I think it's cool.” Emma spread out her hands. She turned to Aunt Violetta. “How many guinea pigs are there?”

  “So far, we only have three.” Aunt Violetta sounded mournful. “But Gustavo II has escaped, and –“

  “And Grazia Afrodite Venere unfortunately got lost yesterday during an excusion and hasn’t been found yet,” Ernesto added. “But Uncle Teo and Aunt Violetta will go back to that place today to find her.”

  “We usually call her Gracy,” Uncle Teo said in a sorrowful voice.

  Carlina shook her head again, unable to take it all in.

  “But how do you get them to race?” Emma asked. “Is there an incentive? The equivalent for chocolate or something else that gets a guinea pig excited?”

  Aunt Violetta shook her head. “We're still working on the incentive system. Kabuki for example is a gourmet. He reacts very well to rucola, but it gives him flatulence, so we have to use it judiciously.”

  Ernesto saw Carlina's stunned look. “Kabuki is the third guinea pig. He's sort of yellow, a bit like the color of a camel. Gracy is black and white and tan, and Gustavo II is pitch black with a white face, and a mane of hair that makes him look a bit like a lion. A black one, that is.”

  “That's why we can't find him easily,” Uncle Teo added. “I'm sure he's in that dark corner over there, below the stairs.”

  Fabbiola grabbed her skirt a bit tighter. “I don't like to have vermin in the house.”

  “They're not vermin!” Ernesto gave his aunt a disapproving look. “They're pets.”

  Emma was still trying to get the basics of the game right. Maybe it distracted her from her missing husband. “So you place them on – what? A table?”

  “Yes. It's a white table with black lines, so each guinea pig has its own course well mapped out. They are placed before the starting line and have to run down the table toward the other end, to collect their reward.”

  Emma frowned. “I can't believe they will stick to their lines. I mean, they're not very disciplined, are they?”

  Aunt Violetta gave her a dark look. “We're still in the experimenting stage. It's possible that we'll have to erect little boundaries along the lines.”

  Ernesto's face glowed. “And maybe we'll erect little obstacles for them to climb, or hurdles to jump over, like they have in horse competitions. I've seen a video on YouTube that's so cool. They even had a hoop to jump through.”

  Emma's eyes widened. “You mean a hoop with fire, like they have in the circus for tigers?”

  “Of course not!” Uncle Teo shook his head. “That would set their fur on fire.”

  Emma shrugged. “Lions have fur, too.”

  “And Gustavo II looks like a little black lion, with his mane!” Ernesto sounded fascinated.

  Carlina choked. She already saw the family experimenting with fire hoops in Benedettas kitchen. The thought chilled her to the bone, even though she wasn't the one who had to jump through the hoop.

  Aunt Violetta had a speculative gleam in her eyes, but after a moment, she shook her head with regret. “Since we want to target kids as well, I doubt we'll get away with hoops on fire. The safety regulations would be terrible, and I want the customers to be quite close to the ring, so they can see everything that's going on.”

  Carlina started to breathe again.

  Ernesto sighed, but then he brightened. “We'll give them a real dramatic entrance, you know. Before the race starts, the guinea pigs are all shown around the ring, just like horses, so you can place your bets. But as soon as the gong sounds, all bets are off, and the race starts.”

  “The gong?” Carlina had to ask in spite of herself.

  “Yes, a gong.” Aunt Violetta nodded. “I bought one from a Chinese trader. We felt it would be a gentler sound than a shot. After all, we don't want to scare the children.”

  “Betting games for children!” Fabbiola moaned. “Whatever will come next?”

  “And do they really run?” Clearly, Emma was already sold on the idea.

  Ernesto waggled his head from side to side. “Sometimes, but not very often. That's part of the fun. Often, they just sit around and sniff the air.”

  “And what happens if they don't move at all?”

  “We have created clear solutions for any kind of possible situation,” Aunt Violetta replied. “I believe this is one of the basic prerequisites for a successful business.”

  “So if a guinea pig doesn't move for a full three minutes, someone gives it a gentle tickle,” Ernesto added.

  Emma lifted her eyebrows. “And does that make them move?”

  “Sometimes yes, sometimes not. Kabuki, as I said, is a connoisseur, and if the food is not interesting enough, he won't move at all. Tickling doesn't help. On the contrary, yesterday, he rolled over onto his side in ecstasy.”

  “We'll still figure out how to motivate him best.” Aunt Violetta was all confidence. “At least, he's so lazy, he's not likely to escape, unlike the other two.”

  “Well, if you keep on losing your business assets, you're going to be in trouble,” Fabbiola said. “With only one guinea pig, your business is dead. Or do you want to enter it into a run against a spider?”

  Ernesto's eyes glowed. “Now that's a fun idea!”

  But Aunt Violetta shook her head. “No. Spiders don't have enough mass appeal.” Then she gave Fabbiola a black look. “You needn't be so discouraging. We're only starting out, and we have to gain some experience. Give us a a bit of time.”

  Gustavo II chose this moment to come out of hiding. He raced across the hall and scrambled onto Carlina's foot. With a quick motion, she picked him up and held him up to her face. The small face with button-black eyes stared at her, and the wild mane quivered. Carlina had to smile. “He's darling!”

  “Exactly.” Aunt Violetta looked at her with a satisfied smirk. “And this is why our business venture is going to be so very successful. I'm looking into selling TV rights, too.”

  Fabbiola shook herself and turned to go upstairs to her apartment. “Well, good luck to you. I think it's a harebrained scheme.”

  With the guinea pig crisis over,
Benedetta was able to focus on something else. She lifted her head and looked at her daughter. “Emma, where are you coming from at this time in the morning? I thought you were still asleep.”

  Fabbiola turned back again. “That's right. Where have you been?”

  Emma and Carlina exchanged a look.

  “I … I had to discuss something with Carlina,” Emma finally said.

  Fabbiola lifted her eyebrows. “At seven in the morning?”

  “It's not seven in the morning. And why do you have cousins, if not to call on them when you feel like having a little chat?” Emma lifted her chin.

  “A little chat at seven in the morning?” Her mother blinked. “Your hormones must be more out of order than I'd thought.”

  “Where are your watches? It's nine o'clock, not seven.” Emma held out her hands to her baby. “If you give Zoe to me, I can go upstairs and change her diaper. It's about time.”

  “I'll come with you.” Benedetta and Emma disappeared up the stairs.

  Aunt Violetta left her position and dropped with a contented sigh back into the wheelchair that stood waiting for her at the side of the hall.

  Carlina gave the fluffy Gustavo II over to her care and turned to Uncle Teo. She was curious what the patriarch of the family had to say about this latest idea. “So, what do you think about the guinea pig project, Uncle Teo?” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. He was one of the more grounded family members, maybe because of his eighty years. Then again, no. Age didn't seem to make the Mantonis more normal, but no matter. She counted on him to shrug and let them go crazy over this new scheme, until they'd gotten it out of their systems and could return to what passed for normal in this family.

  His rheumy eyes focused on her. “I'm one of the investors.”

  Chapter 4

  Garini didn't wake until the phone rang way too loud right next to his head.

  He fumbled for it, dropped it by accident, and had to hang headfirst out of the bed and fish with his hands in the semi-darkness until he could finally retrieve it.

  The place next to him was empty. Apparently, Carlina had already gone. What time was it anyway? “Pronto!”

  “Garini, is that you?” The querulous voice of his boss, Cervi, reached his ear like a foreign element. It felt wrong to admit it into his bedroom, much too intimate. You don't converse with your enemy in your secret haven. Stefano jumped up and left the room, making a beeline for the kitchen. Maybe the hiss of the coffee machine could drown the too stringent tones of his boss.

  “Yes, it's me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At home. I worked with Sergio on the latest case last night and only went to bed around five. However, I left a message with Gloria, telling her I would be late in the office today. Didn't she tell you?”

  “Gosh, I hope you didn't catch it.”

  Stefano blinked. “Excuse me? Catch what?”

  “You say you worked with Sergio?”

  “I did. We went through the evidence in the case of Lucio Casanuova for over two hours. We also went to the club to have a look at the scene of the crime, but it didn’t get us anything.” Stefano suppressed a sigh. He had tried to look at it from every angle, but in the end, he had had to admit that Sergio couldn't have done anything else but to arrest Lucio.

  “Were you very close to Sergio?”

  Stefano shook his head in surprise. Was he dreaming this conversation? It was way too bizarre to be real. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I want to know how close to Sergio you've been. But then, maybe you've had them already. If you had, it wouldn't be a problem.”

  “Had what?”

  “The measles.”

  “The measles! Are you telling me Sergio has the measles?” Stefano remembered Sergio's complaints about the itching scalp and the temperature. So it hadn't been invented.

  “Yes.” Cervi sounded terse. “The measles. Apparently, they all broke out in one big rash between six and nine this morning.”

  Stefano looked at the big clock above the kitchen door. Nine-thirty. He knew what was coming, and he didn't want to hear it.

  Meanwhile, Cervi was rambling on. “I really don't know why Sergio didn't get the measles when he was a child. That's the time to get this kind of thing over with, not now, when we need him on a case. So, have you had them?”

  Stefano frowned. “I can't recall.”

  “Come on, man, you've got to have some medical records somewhere.”

  “I'm afraid I really don't know, and I have no means to find out.” Stefano made sure his voice sounded firm.

  “Your mother will know.”

  “My mother died years ago. Anyway, it doesn't matter.”

  “What do you mean, it doesn't matter?”

  “Whether I'm ill or not, I can't take this case.”

  “Why not?” It sounded like a bellow.

  “Lucio Casanuova is married to my wife's cousin.”

  Cervi groaned. “We've had this conversation before.”

  “Indeed, we have.”

  “Why does the Mantoni family have to be involved in every single murder that takes place in Florence?”

  “It's a large family.” Stefano tried to sound soothing.

  “If I have to take every personal connection of my officers into account, they couldn't do a single bit of work. I'm already kind of used to that, but in your case, it's really starting to chafe. Maybe I have to ask for your relocation to Milano. There are no Mantonis in Milano, are there?”

  Stefano clenched his teeth and ignored the question. No way was he going to work in Milano. “Have you asked Paolo?” He suggested his colleague instead. “He can take over this case. Sergio has already documented everything in detail. Paolo won't have any difficulties taking over.”

  “But don't you know?” Cervi started to laugh with a slightly hysteric note. “Paolo has them too!”

  Stefano swallowed. “You mean …?”

  “Yes! The measles! He was the one who started this epidemic. Apparently, he caught it from his kids. Why people don't get vaccinations, I just don't know. So there's nothing to it; you'll have to take over. Now.”

  “Signor Cervi, I can't. These are close family connections …”

  “I don't give a damn for your close family connections! You're not even related by blood. You just both married into the same family, and with the Mantoni family, this means you're related to half of Florence – and I bet the other half are your friends. Close friends, of course, not mere acquaintances. I'm really starting to wonder if this reluctance of yours to take over any cases doesn't have a deeper root. Are you unhappy with your work?”

  Stefano closed his eyes. “No. I just feel that –“

  “Stop feeling and start working. In case of problems, I'll clear it with the mayor. When will you be here?”

  There was nothing to it. He had to take the case. “I'll be right there. Do you happen to know if Lucio Casanuova is fit to be questioned?”

  “No idea, but you can easily find that out. Good luck.” Cervi hung up before Stefano could react.

  He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Then he realized what he should have noted right away – the apartment was empty. Carlina and Emma had gone, leaving no note. Well, that didn't bother him. He preferred to get to work before they could question him in detail. Let him talk to Lucio first. Maybe Emma’s husband could provide some arguments that would allow him to be released.

  He took a quick shower, dressed, downed an espresso while standing in the kitchen, and hurried from the house, going straight to the office to collect the recorder and some pictures, then left again to go to the prison hospital.

  Lucio was awake when he came in.

  His face was almost translucent and so deeply lined he looked ten years older. “Stefano! Thank God it's you.”

  Stefano gave him a tight smile. He hated it when family members welcomed his presence in any kind of murder investigation because it usually meant they expected to be treated wi
th extraordinary lenience. “Lucio. Got yourself in trouble, did you?”

  Lucio swallowed visibly. He hadn't shaved, and the bristles on his chin and cheeks gave his pasty look a bluish tinge. The dapper Lucio they were used to seeing within the Mantoni family circle had nothing in common with the man in bed.

  Stefano pulled up a chair and sat down. He'd spent many Mantoni family evenings with Lucio, but if he was honest, he didn't know him all that well. In fact, it was scary how little you could know someone you'd regularly see at family reunions. Whenever they'd met, they'd had a bit of small talk, had shared some jokes. He knew Lucio was an alpha male who liked to protect his wife Emma, even though she certainly didn't need it. He knew Lucio was careful, not taking the same airplane as his wife, thinking that one of them should always survive in a plane crash. He also knew Lucio was easily jealous, and that he had a hot temper. This last bit worried him most. Trying not to show his thoughts, he said, “You've got to know one thing. I'm officially in charge of this case, and I have to stay absolutely neutral. From all I've seen so far, every piece of evidence points your way. I can't suppress anything, but I'm willing to listen to your side of the story.”

  Lucio stared at him. “What case?”

  “The murder investigation.”

  If it had been possible, Lucio would have turned even whiter. Instead, a greenish tinge crept into his cheeks. “Someone died?”

  Stefano stared at him. “Don't you remember anything?”

  Lucio slowly shook his head. “Not after a certain point. I don't even know why I'm here. To all my questions, the only answer I get is that I'll know soon enough.”

  Stefano winced. If you pretended to have lost your memory, you could get away with a ton of things, so it was the standard excuse used by all intelligent criminals. To hide his feelings, he pulled out the recording machine. “I'll record your statement, then, all right?”

  “But who died?”

  Stefano hesitated. “I'd rather not tell you just now. Could you tell me everything you know first?”

  “Fine. But you won't have any fun with it. As I said, I don't remember much.”