A Fashion Felon in Rome (3 page)

“
Detective Cantino?” I ventured, extending my hand as a peace gesture.

Curtly, he shook my hand, nodded, and led me down a
winding corridor.  The leather-clad hunk followed at a close distance as neither man spoke.  Opening the door to an empty conference room, Detective Cantino gestured for me to go inside.  I complied, following his next cue to have a seat at a conference table.  Both men sat across from me and regarded me gruffly.  Under different circumstances, it would have been exciting to be in the same room as two such virile Italian men. 

“You are aware of the death of
Tomaso Alegres, yes?” Detective Cantino began, still making no attempt to introduce the man adjacent to him.

“Unfortunately, yes.  I just found out this morning when I went to the Sheraton to do an, um, interview for Sophia Pucci.” I didn’t know how to explain that I was “auditioning” to be the actress’s personal fashion designer.  These grim-faced men didn’t look like they would understand such a
trifling enterprise.

“We are aware of the competition
Signora
Pucci has arranged here in Rome,” Detective Cantino informed as my eyebrows rose in surprise.

“You
are?”
And who is we?
I wanted to ask.  The whole police department? Or just the unidentified Clive Owen lookalike brooding silently at the table?

“Yes, and we’re trying to get ahold of anyone who may have come into contact with Tomaso during the past week since he left Barcelona.  Did you establish a personal relationship with
Tomaso Alegres,
Signorina
Macchio?” The officer narrowed his gaze at me as I shook my head reflexively.

“Not at all.  I actually only met him once.  The first day that Sophia Pucci had us all gather at the Sheraton,” I skipped a breath, wondering if I should tell the cop about how
brazenly flirtatious both Denise and Evelyn had been. 

“Were you going to say something else?”

“Um, well, I was just going to say that I think there may have been other women in our group who could have
established a personal relationship
with him,” I mimicked the officer’s formal language.

“An
d who would you be referring to?”

“I don’t remember their last names.  But one of them is American.  Her name is Denise.  And then there was this British girl named Evelyn.
Wait a second, her last name was Flowers.  Yes, Evelyn Flowers. Anyway, they both seemed pretty interested in Tomaso…” I stopped myself and gulped.  “Is it true that Tomaso’s death really wasn’t an accident?  When I was walking out of the ballroom earlier, I overheard someone say that the brakes on his boat were cut.”

“I can’t confirm or deny that information,”
Detective Cantino said sternly.  “Can you give me a rundown of your activities from yesterday at 3:00 pm until now?”

“Sure I can,” I tried to conceal my nervousness.  Was I a suspect simply because Tomaso had been a competitor of mine?  “Let’s see, yesterday afternoon, I did a little shopping.  I bought some souvenirs for my boyfriend back in New York.”

“What did you purchase? Do you have the receipts?” Detective Cantino interrupted.

“I think I have the receipts in my room.  I just bought him some little trinkets, like a shot glass, some postcards…I don’t really have a lot of money to spend,” I confessed. 

“Okay, and what did you do after shopping?”

The mystery man cleared his throat, reminding me of his unexplained presence.  I glanced from him to
Detective Cantino, waiting for one of them to explain.  But still neither man uttered a word.  “Okay, after shopping I went to
Il Mulino
Ristorante
and had shrimp
parmagiana
for dinner.”

“Did you drink anything?”

“A glass of Chianti,” I admitted, feeling silly for having indulged in a glass of wine alone.  But how could anyone come to Italy and not enjoy a glass of silky smooth red wine?!

“Then what?”

“Then I took a taxi back here and watched a little TV.  Read a book that I brought with me from home.  And went to sleep.”

“And this morning?”
Detective Cantino pressed on.

“I slept in.  Maybe til around 9.  Then I grabbed some breakfast from the hotel’s buffet.  After that, I walked around the city for a little while until it was time to go to the Sheraton and work on my dress design.” I sighed, hoping the chronology would satisfy the
investigator.  Then, it struck me that I didn’t have anyone who could corroborate my alibi.  I had been spending all my time alone.  I wriggled around in my seat, trying not to betray the mounting anxiety I felt inside.

Detective
Cantino nodded slowly.  “That sounds about right.”

“What do you mean?” I asked
warily.

“We’ve already had a look at the hotel’s security camera footage. 
You were recorded returning early yesterday evening and leaving the hotel late this morning.”

“Oh, o---kay,” I said, confused.  “But I don’t understand what my activities of the past 24 hours have to do with anything anyway.  I heard that Tomaso was killed early this morning in the boating accident.”

“He was,” Detective Cantino confirmed.  “But he purchased the speedboat at 3 o’clock yesterday afternoon.  Sometime between then and this morning…a suspicious event took place.” The officer parsed his words, but I knew what he really meant.  The suspicious event was that someone cut the brakes on Tomaso’s boat.

“Wait a second, Tomaso
bought
the boat? Not rented it?” I exclaimed.  “Why would he buy a boat in Italy if he was going to return to Spain in a week or two?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.  Something doesn’t add up,”
Detective Cantino said.

“Although I guess he could afford it,” I said, thinking out loud.  “I do remember him mentioning that his parents bought him a boat when he was just 18.  So I assume he came from money.”

“He did,” Detective Cantino affirmed.  “That’s another fork in the road we have to take.  See if someone was after his money.  A life insurance policy, perhaps.”

The candid manner which
Detective Cantino had shifted into set me at ease.  Until a scary thought dawned on me.  Police officers were clever manipulators who used all kinds of underhanded tactics in order to make their suspects feel comfortable.  Befriending the suspect was the first step towards extracting a confession…true or otherwise.  Not wanting to fall head first into a carefully laid mouse trap, I chose my next words prudently.

“
Detective Cantino, since you said that my alibi already checked out with the hotel security footage, is it okay if I get on with my day? I’d be glad to help if there’s anything else I can do, but…”

Detective
Cantino eagerly cut in.  “There is something else you can do.” He turned to his left, finally acknowledging the stony faced Adonis at his side.  “This is Massimo Letrone.”

Massimo reached a large hand across the table and offered a shake.  His hand clamped firmly over mine, ever so slightly pressing into my delicate bones.  Using all his strength, the man could have easily crushed every bone in my hand.

“Massimo is a private investigator.  He was hired by the Alegres family to work alongside the police,” Detective Cantino explained as Massimo’s eyes burned into mine.  The first fragments of raw attraction pieced together in my body, so I tried to cast them aside, thinking of my loyal Richard and how he was waiting at home for me.

“Tomaso’s family has already hired an investigator?” I marveled aloud.

“The Alegres family is one of the most powerful in all of Spain.  They’re practically a dynasty.  Look them up online and you’ll see what I’m talking about,” Detective Cantino said as Massimo kept staring at me, speaking to me with his eyes but still not verbalizing at all.

“Okay, and what do I have to do with all this?” I asked skeptically.

“The Rome Police Department would like you to work with Massimo to help solve the crime,” Detective Cantino informed, looking at me expectantly as I wondered if perhaps Massimo didn’t speak English. 

“Help solve the crime?” I squeaked.  I was
way
out of my element now.  I had come to Italy to design a dress, not solve a murder!  “But why me? I have no experience in investigating murders! How could I possibly help?”

“We’re fairly certain that you had nothing to do with Tomaso’s death.  And we’re also fairly certain that someone in your group did,”
Detective Cantino asserted as Massimo nodded, finally displaying a modicum of understanding.

“You mean Denise or Evelyn?” I guessed.

“Perhaps.  But there could be other suspects as well,” Detective Cantino suggested elusively as I scanned my brain to recall all the people I had met at the Sheraton.  I didn’t know who most of them were other than for those in my ill-fated group.

“Okay, but I still don’t understand how it is that I’m supposed to help,” I argued, feeling flustered.

“I’ll let Massimo take it from here.  I have a lot of work to do.  Please don’t let us down,
Signorina
Macchio.  An innocent 25 year old man is dead, and we need to find out why.” With those heart-tugging words, Giancarlo Cantino exited the conference room, leaving me alone with a strange, albeit gorgeous, man whose voice I had yet to hear.

“
Bene. Si parla italiano
?” Massimo asked, his voice rich and smooth like the Chianti I had sipped with my dinner last night.

“Yes, I speak Italian,” I answered in English, too flustered to
enunciate in a foreign tongue.

“Okay, well maybe English is easier for you.  Not easier for me.  I studied in London a long time ago.  But I will try.” Shyness tinged Massimo’s lightly accented English as I exhaled, grateful that he could speak my language.

“Your English sounds fine to me.  I think you’re underestimating yourself,” I said gently as he bowed his head and grinned.

“Thank you.  Okay.  Gianna.  Will you come with me tomorrow?” He asked hesitantly, like he was trying on a pair of training wheels for his shiny new bicycle.

“Come with you where?” I asked as my heart flipped over.  In my pre-Richard days, I would have gone anywhere with a man like Massimo.  Anywhere. 

“To find Denise and Evelyn.  I am tracking them through Rome.  And we can have you…run into them by accident…”

“You mean follow them and then I
pretend
to be randomly running into them?”

“Yes, and then you lure them back to the Sheraton.  The police already set up the conference room with hidden audio and video equipment to record everything.” Massimo sounded
increasingly confident as he poured oil onto his rusty English.

“But Sophia told us not to come back until next week.  She said that the event was postponed.”

“Not anymore.  Not for your group.  You will still design a dress for Sophia Pucci.  The Cannes Film Festival hasn’t been cancelled because of one man’s tragic death,” Massimo said gravely.  “She still wants a dress.  And she still wants publicity.  If anything, this murder will give her the publicity she was craving.”

“I don’t think so,” I protested.  “She seemed pretty upset today.  Like her whole plan had been ruined.  Kind of like Tomaso’s death was an inconvenience.” I shuddered, remembering how callous the drama queen had behaved.

“All publicity is good.  Even bad publicity,” Massimo said wryly.  “Sophia Pucci will be fine.  Better than fine.  Before, she was just going to be a guest at the festival, but now she will be the star.  And that’s exactly the way she likes it.”

Chills ran through me as Massimo spoke, but they weren’t from the attraction I felt to him.  Swallowing audibly, I whispered, “You paint Sophia Pucci to be a very shallow person.  Is it possible that she could have had Tomaso killed in order to bring attention to herself?”

Chapter 4

Massimo’s full-lipped smirk was so enigmatic that I couldn’t tell whether he was mocking me or agreeing with me.  Fluorescent light outlined his features, revealing a seductive 5 o’clock shadow that fair haired Richard never had.  I looked away from my Roman temptation, not wanting to fall into decadence and decline like the ancient city had.

“You have a suspicious mind, Gianna.  You’re going to be a great detective,” Massimo commented, his smirk twisting into alluring curves.

“I’m not a detective.  I’m a fashion designer,” I reminded him, still not meeting his dangerous eyes.

“Well starting now, you’re going to be a detective,” he insisted as I forced a semi grin.

I wanted to tell him that even Shaggy and Scooby Doo would make better crime solvers than me, but I kept my mouth shut.  Massimo had probably never heard of the cartoon duo and would jump to the conclusion that I’m an idiot for mentioning them.

“So what do you say, Gianna? I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby at 8:30 tomorrow morning? 
Va bene
?”