Tricky Death

by Beate Boeker

  “It's a prison hospital.”

  Lucio gulped. “I'm in prison?”

  “You are.”

  “Why?”

  Stefano regarded him gravely, then he got up and went to the door. Outside, he found a nurse and asked her for the results of Lucio's blood tests, then he came back in.

  Lucio had sat up and stared at him. “Am I really suspected to have killed someone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “Ambrosia Amore.”

  Lucio's mouth fell open. “Ambrosia what? I've never even heard that name!” He raked his fingers through his hair.

  “Not even whispered into your ear when you were at the Inferno d'Oro? You said the girls were called Angela or Aurora. Could it have been Ambrosia?”

  “I told you, I have no idea! I didn't pay attention.”

  “So you don't recall any Ambrosia at all?”

  “No!”

  Stefano pulled out a picture and showed it to him. “This is her.”

  Lucio stared at it. “I … I'm not sure that I know her. But as I said, without makeup, I wouldn't recognize any of the girls.”

  “But she does wear makeup in the picture.”

  “Not the kind they wear in the club. It's inches deep there.” Lucio shook his head and sighed. “I really don't recognize her.” He lifted his chin and looked at Stefano. “But there were plenty of other men there that night. Why do you think I did it?”

  Stefano took a deep breath. “Because you're the only one who was in a locked room with her, holding her in your arms, and because your fingerprints are on the murder weapon.”

  Lucio fell back against his pillows. “I … I don't recall anything.” His voice sounded hoarse. His eyes were wild, his gaze flitting around the room, landing nowhere. “Do you really think I killed her? Under the influence of that … that drug, or whatever they gave me?”

  “I don't know.”

  “What did I say when they found me?”

  “Nothing. You were unconscious. Until this morning.”

  “Stefano!” Lucio held out his hand. “Please! Don't tell Emma! Don't let her think, even for one moment, that I would leave her, would do this to her. I didn't do it. Or if I did, I wasn't myself.”

  Stefano's mouth turned dry. He had no idea how to hide this from the Mantonis, but he wasn't immune to Lucio's plea. “I'll try.”

  Deep in thought, Stefano left Lucio and went to find the nurse. She was standing together with the doctor, a tall blonde. When the nurse saw Stefano, she said, “This is commissario Stefano Garini, dottoressa. He asked for the blood results.”

  “My name is Chiara Agnelli.” The dottoressa held out her hand. Her abundant blonde hair was piled on top of her head. “We haven't met, have we? I thought Sergio was working on this case.”

  Stefano shook her hand. “Sergio got the measles, so I took over.”

  A smile, quickly suppressed. “Oh. Poverino.”

  Stefano didn't say that he was the one to be pitied. “I've just talked to Lucio Casanuova, and from what he says, it sounds as if he was drugged. Do your blood tests confirm that?”

  The dottoressa lifted her shoulders. “The amount of alcohol in his blood was certainly very high, but I've seen people reach that level if they really apply themselves to it.”

  “He said he only had one drink.”

  She shook her head. “Impossible. In that case, it would have to have been almost undiluted alcohol.”

  “And if it was?”

  She stared at him. “Are you trying to tell me he didn't notice?”

  “He had suffered from a partial loss of taste due to a previous cold, and he said he downed the drink quickly.”

  Her carefully plucked eyebrows almost disappeared into her gangs. “I still find it rather unlikely.”

  “Did you find any other substance in his blood?”

  She looked at the sheet. “Nothing that jumped out at me. But of course, we didn't run all possible tests.”

  “Would you please do it?”

  She frowned. “That's very expensive.”

  Stefano clenched his teeth. He knew he would have to justify the expenses. “Still, would you do it?”

  Her clear eyes gazed at him, noting everything. “You're related to the patient, aren't you?”

  It took all his self-control not to shout at her. Instead, he lowered his voice. “Yes, I am. And I'm asking for nothing I wouldn't ask for any other man.”

  She returned his look without batting an eyelid. “If you feel it's a fundamental requirement for the successful investigation of this case, of course, commissario.” Her tone was dulcet.

  “Grazie, dottoressa.” He made sure to speak with so much irony it almost dripped to the floor. Then he turned on his heels and left the hospital, still fuming. How dare she!

  He pulled on his helmet and kick-started his motor bike with more aggression than usual. With a roar of the engine, he pulled out of the parking place. But when he'd driven for fifteen minutes, he had sufficiently cooled down to try to do her justice. She'd only reacted like any other sane person would react. With all the corruption going on in high places, she had a right to question his activities. He himself would have done exactly the same in her place. And with the situation as it was, it was normal that people would watch his every move like a hawk. But that didn't make it any more comfortable.

  He returned to the police station in a mixed mood of anger, helplessness, and a grim determination to find out the truth. Lucio had seemed very convincing, and if everything he said was true, then he had been placed in this position as a scapegoat. However, all the evidence pointed in Lucio's direction, and nothing but his gut feeling told him it was all wrong. He had to dig deep enough to uncover the real truth, and without hard evidence, his hands were tied.

  When he walked into the station, he saw Gloria sitting at reception. “Gloria, what are you doing here? I thought you worked the night shift this week.”

  “The measles.” Gloria yawned. “I had to jump in, but I won't be good for much, as tired as I am. How about you? You worked tonight as well.”

  “Same here. The measles.”

  “So Sergio has them, too.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh, by the way.” Gloria rubbed the skin beneath her eyes. “There's someone waiting for you. I put him in the small interview room.”

  “Who is it?”

  Gloria made some inefficient moves with her hands, shuffling around a lot of papers, then she looked up. “I'm sorry. I lost the paper. A colleague, he said.”

  “All right. I'll have a look.” Stefano went to the small interview room, not much bigger than an medium-sized closet. When he came in and closed the door behind him, a young man got up. “Signor Marasi?”

  “No. My name is Stefano Garini.” Stefano had to suppress a smile. The man before him was squarely built, with plenty of hair that fell into his eyes. A dye job gone wrong gave it a sort of bleached color and made him resemble a Hungarian sheep dog, the breed that looks like a mop.

  “I'm Tonio Ferrero from the drug commission, and I've come to talk to signor Marasi.”

  Garini wondered why nobody had asked this young man to cut his hair, so he could see something. “Unfortunately, Signor Marasi can't come to work right now.”

  In one hectic move, Tonio Ferrero's hand shot up to wipe the mop from his eyes. They were wide open, so the whites showed all around the light-blue irises. “You mean they got him?”

  “What do you mean? Who's they?”

  “The gang we're looking for?”

  “Sit down.” Garini pointed to the chair behind the young man. “No, signor Marasi has the measles.”

  “Phew.” Tonio Ferrero let the mop fall over his eyes again and dropped onto the chair.

  Garini wondered how he saw anything at all through that thick curtain of hair. “I've taken over the case, and I'm happy to talk about it with you.”

  “Thanks.” Tonio Ferrero nodded. “I was aske
d to tell you everything we've learned.”

  “I'd be grateful for that.”

  “You have to know we've had our eyes on the Inferno d'Oro for quite some time.”

  “So I've heard.”

  Tonio hesitated. “I say, everything we say here remains confidential, right? I mean just between the two of us, and it will go nowhere else, not even within the station?”

  Garini frowned. “I thought it's an exchange of information between departments. Usually, I would put all the available data into my reports.”

  Toni shook his head. “I'd rather not. There might always be a leak somewhere, and that would endanger me.”

  “Endanger you?”

  “Yes. I'm one of the moles.”

  Garini didn't say anything, but he couldn't help wondering how someone with such a distinctive hair-do could work as a mole, a secret agent. Surely everyone who'd seen him once would remember him forever.

  “I know what you think. But I wore a wig.” The big mouth flashed a smile. “Sleek, black hair. Made a different man out of me. But it was a pain to put it on.”

  Garini suppressed a smile. “I can imagine.”

  Tonio looked at his hands, then up at Garini again, or so it seemed from the way the mop moved. “It was my first big project, and it was my idea to involve Ambrosia. I regret that now.” He gulped. “I had no idea she would … she would …” His voice petered out.

  “I'm sorry.”

  Tonio nodded. “I still find it hard to believe. It all seemed like a game to me, you know. So exciting. But now …”

  Garini nodded. He had no idea why the young man was pouring his heart out to him, but he knew how difficult it was to stomach if a case went awry.

  As if he'd heard him think, Tonio looked up. “I don't know why I'm telling you this.”

  “The role of confidant is surely new to me. But sometimes, it helps to talk to strangers.”

  “Yeah. Well.” Tonio shrugged. “But I don't want to waste your time. So we had two feet planted inside the club: me and Ambrosia.”

  “Under what cover did you get in there?”

  “I worked at the bar. It took me almost a year to worm myself into that position, and I was proud as hell when I'd made it.”

  “Did Ambrosia know about you?”

  “No.”

  Good. Then he's relatively safe. “How did you get out during the raid last night?”

  “I ran, together with all the others. I figured it would be the least suspicious. I also ended up in custody, like the others.” A fleeting smile with that big mouth. “It was strange to be on the other side for once.”

  “That can be very beneficial.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And did you learn anything else while you were in custody, waiting with the others?”

  The blond mop shook. “Not really. Some were angry, some were resigned, but I didn't notice people exchanging special looks or notes or something.” He sighed. “That gang – they're true professionals, I have to hand them that.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual during your work as a waiter?”

  “On the surface, it was just business as usual. There were regulars, and there were others who only came once or twice during the month that I've been working there. It really irked me, but I never saw anything. I couldn't tell where the drugs were handed over or anything.”

  “Were you stuck behind the bar the whole time?”

  “Yes. I thought I could also work the tables, but there was another guy who did that, Filippo. There were only the two of us, and when it got very busy, the boss also helped out behind the bar.”

  “Then it's no wonder. They will have taken good care to do everything as far away from the bar as possible, to avoid onlookers.”

  “Yeah, but Filippo only came three weeks ago. I asked the boss, Salvatore Ditto, if I could work the tables too, but he said I should stay behind the bar.”

  “Do you think he was suspicious of you?”

  Tonio slowly shook his head. “I don't think so. He might have wanted to keep an eye on me, but he couldn't have had anything tangible, or he would have kicked me out.”

  Garini thought a moment. “And yesterday? Did you notice anything unusual?”

  “Yes, I did.” Tonio sat up straighter. “And I'm still convinced it has a special meaning.”

  “What was it?”

  “A bag of flour.”

  Chapter 5

  Garini stared at him. “A bag of flour?”

  The mop in front of him gave a little wiggle. “Yes. It's being tested right now, and I'm waiting for the results, but I'm willing to bet my life that this isn't just ordinary flour.”

  “You'd best tell me everything. Start with the beginning of your shift.”

  “All right.” Tonio straightened his shoulders. “As always, I started work at nine PM. At that time, it was quiet and just a few regulars were there. The place only ever starts to get busy around ten, with its peak at midnight, and by two o'clock, it calms down again. We usually close by four, sometimes five, depending on the number of people still there. Yesterday started like always. I knew about the planned raid, so I was excited, but I tried not to show it. I took special care to keep them all under observation, and so I saw her right away.”

  “Who?”

  “The girl.” He said it in a strange tone, as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of her.

  “Tell me more about that girl.”

  “She didn't belong there.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “First of all, her clothes didn't fit. She was dressed a little too perfectly, as if it was all brand new. She wasn't a prostitute, that much was clear.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “She was too innocent. She looked everyone in the eye, gave them a straight stare, open and curious, like a child.” He spread out his hands. “I can tell you that's not a thing you should do in the Inferno d'Oro.”

  “Did anybody react?”

  “They all withdrew. She sat at one of the small tables, a little to the side. I saw her coming in and instantly knew she didn't belong. My fingers pricked, because anything out of order at that special evening was worth looking into. I wondered if maybe she was another mole, but if she was, they'd not picked her well. She wouldn't have lasted a second. She stuck out like a sore thumb.”

  “And then?”

  “The next time I looked, she had this bag of flour in front of her.”

  “What did it look like?”

  Tonio lifted his shoulders. “Like a normal flour bag, the rustic kind. About 500 grams, and packed into a white paper bag, with the top sewed closed by a red ribbon. Not a cheap brand, something more upscale. I think it's organic, and you're supposed to think it came straight from the mill to your house. My grandmother uses this kind of flour for her cakes, that's why I recognized it from far away. It has a distinctive red logo.”

  “How odd.”

  “Yes, absolutely. I couldn't make heads nor tail of her. Why would anyone bring a bag of flour to a nightclub? She placed it smack in front of her.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Then she waited for someone to come. She kept looking around the room with that gaze I told you about, and people kept steering away from her because of it. She was an island in a milling sea. From time to time, she checked her watch, and as the time passed, I could tell she was feeling less and less comfortable.”

  “Did you see her later, while in custody?”

  “No.” He slowly shook his head. “She left before the raid, maybe a quarter to eleven, after having waited for more than an hour.”

  “Did she talk to anyone?”

  “She talked to me.”

  “To you?”

  “Yes. After half an hour or so, she left to go in the direction of the bathrooms, and she took the flour with her. I would have loved to trail her, but I couldn't leave my post, as the bar was full. She stayed away for a long time, and I kept wondering what the heck
was going on. When she came back, she walked up to the bar and asked if there was table service. I almost had to laugh. She should have seen right away it was self-service only. That alone confirmed my feeling she'd never been to a nightclub before. That, and the way she first stared at the pole dancers as if she couldn't believe her eyes and then firmly looked in the other direction.”

  “What did she order?”

  “A glass of white wine.”

  “And then, she took that glass of white wine and returned to her table?”

  “Exactly. And again, she placed the bag of flour right in front of her again, visible to all. I was pole-axed – I'd been sure she would have traded it during her bathroom break. When she was at the bar, I almost asked her what that was all about, but I didn't dare. I had to keep a low profile, and one of my best moves had been to pretend that I didn't notice much. Then she left and didn't take the bag of flour with her. I can tell you, I barely took my gaze off that bag.”

  “And what happened to it?”

  “Nothing. The next people who came up to the table looked at it briefly, laughed, and pushed it to the side, so it wouldn't bother them. From that moment on, nobody touched it. As the time moved on, I was convinced that some transfer of drugs had been planned but gone wrong. So when the raid came, and the lights went out, I fought my way to that table, grabbed the bag of flour, pushed it underneath my t-shirt, and ran outside, where I passed it on to a colleague in the dark.”

  Garini shook his head. He didn't know what to make of the story, but like Tonio, he was sure it had significance. “Please let me know about the results as soon as you get them,” he said. “How about the girl? Would you recognize her?”

  The young man did something Garini couldn't see, but it caused the ends of every mop-tail to tremble. “I think so.”

  Garini remembered Lucio's words. “Was she heavily made-up?”

  The mop nodded. “Yes. A lot of goo on her face, and the hair-do must have taken two hours to accomplish.” He inclined his head, so all the hair fell to one side. “I've got five sisters, so I know.”

  “But still, you would recognize her, even without make up, and with her hair in a simple knot or twist?”