temptation in florence 03 - bankers death (21 page)

Involuntarily, Carlina also glanced over her shoulder.
What is she afraid of?
“But I--”

Garini got up and pulled out a chair. “Sit down, Mrs. Mantoni-Ashley.”

Fabbiola jumped back as if he had suggested that she should tap dance on that chair. “No! If they see me, the whole thing will be off.”

Garini and Carlina spoke as one. “Who are 'they'?”

Once again, Fabbiola looked over her shoulder. Then she sighed and dropped onto the chair. “It's a lost cause anyway. I was so sure it would work.” Her mouth drooped.

Carlina slid onto the chair next to her mother and gave Garini a worried look. His face gave nothing away, as usual, but she noted that his eyes had narrowed as he concentrated on her mother. She bent forward. “Are you in danger, Mama?”

“Bosh.” Her mother made an impatient move with her hand. “Of course not. Don't let your vivid imagination run away with you.”

Carlina suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.
Just who has a vivid imagination here?

“Please tell us everything you know, Mrs. Mantoni-Ashley.” Garini had reverted to his official police voice, flat and hard.

“It's so discouraging.” Fabbiola fidgeted with a fork she had picked up from the table. “I laid out my trap tonight, but it seems it didn't work.” She frowned. “I'm really disappointed about that. I should have thought the murderer would react, and--”

“One moment, please.” Garini held up his hand. “How exactly did you set up a trap?”

She pressed her lips together. “I don't have to tell you, do I?”

Carlina clenched her fists together. “Listen, Mama, you're running around in disguise, behaving as if you're being followed, and you obviously know about this strange date someone set up, so--”

“Of course I know about your date.” Her mother gave her an impatient look. “After all, it was my idea.”

Carlina gasped. “Your idea?” she asked. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“Well, it was obvious that the murderer wanted to separate you two.”

Garini blinked. “Why was that obvious?”

Fabbiola shook her head as if she couldn't believe how dumb he was. “Because otherwise, the murderer would not have killed Valentino in Carlina's apartment. I mean, how stupid is that? I said it all along; it doesn't make sense if we still want your cooperation. And unfortunately, the killer got what he wanted. It was obvious to all of us that your relationship had hit a rocky patch.”

Carlina swallowed. She opened her mouth to say something, but a warning glance from Garini stopped her.

“Please continue, Mrs. Mantoni-Ashley.”

“So I thought I would make sure that you two would have a romantic dinner together and that everybody knew about it.”

“But it was a secret,” Carlina said.

Carlina's mother grinned. “Not at all. I just didn't want you two to compare notes before dinner, that's why I told you not to talk about it with anybody at all.”

Garini shook his head. “But what did you expect to happen?”

Fabbiola squared her shoulders. “I expected the murderer to take steps to break up the dinner.”

“How?” Carlina couldn't believe her ears.

“I don't know.” Fabbiola spread out her hands. “That was up to the murderer, of course. I couldn't plan everything, could I?”

“Are you aware that you placed your daughter at risk?” Garini's voice sounded low, dangerous. He reminded Carlina of a panther, coiled to jump.

“That's why I decided to join you here.” Fabbiola replied with dignity. “To protect my daughter.” She pointed at the neighboring table behind the wooden partition. “I've been sitting there the whole time, but then, I really couldn't wait anymore.” She gave them an embarrassed smile. “Unfortunately, I drank a bit too much water.” She moved on her chair as if it was too hot. “And I'm missing my cushion. I've got it right here,” she patted the bulk in front of her, “but it's not the same, is it?”

A low ringing sound came from Garini's jacket. “I'm sorry.” He pulled out the phone and answered the call. “Is that you, Commissario?” The female voice was loud enough to be heard by them all.

“Yes.”

“It's Angela Pulo. Someone ransacked my apartment.” Her voice trembled. “Everything has been torn apart. It's a mess.”

He got up while he was still speaking. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no. I wasn't in the house. I just returned home.”

“Do you know what's missing?”

“No. I haven't started looking yet. I thought I would call you right away, before I do anything else.”

“Good thinking. I'll be there in a second.” He hung up, bent forward, and looked at Fabbiola. “Promise me one thing: No more traps for the murderer.”

Fabbiola pulled a moue. “It didn't work anyway.”

He turned to Carlina. “I'll call you.” His hand cradled her head, and he pulled her to him and brushed his lips across hers. “Take care of yourself, will you?”

Carlina nodded, too dazed to reply. When he was gone, it felt as if the atmosphere around her had become cooler.

Fabbiola patted the bulk in front of her. “He's such an abrupt man. I wonder what you see in him.”

Carlina looked at her mother's wig and suppressed a sigh. “He's normal. That's a nice change, you see.”

Half an hour later, Garini stood in the middle of the Pulos' living room and looked at the chaos. All pictures had been torn from the walls, the drawers were pulled out, and their contents were spilled onto the floor. Broken glass crunched beneath his feet as he went into the kitchen. Signora Pulo was on her knees, lifting up broken pieces of crockery.

“It looks as if they were searching for something.”

“No doubt about that.” She gave a sniff. “But on top of that, it looks as if they were hell-bent on destroying everything.”

“In that case, they would also have broken the furniture.” Garini pointed at the unscathed chairs.

She sighed and shook her head. “Well, I can't say it makes much of a difference.” With a groan, she got up and placed a hand on her back. “If only I knew what they were looking for. Maybe one of the blackmailers is afraid that his secret will come out now. I bet they thought Giorgio had made a sort of diary with their secrets.”

“Did he?”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Giorgio had a phenomenal memory. I once thought it was impressive.” She lifted a cup without a handle. “That was my favorite cup.” Her mouth trembled. The red lipstick had crept into the deep lines around her mouth.

“I'm sorry.” Garini wished words weren't so useless. “Other than that, you can't imagine what they might have been after?”

“No.” Signora Pulo shrugged. “It must be linked to the murder. We never had any problems with theft in this area before.”

“However, the victims of blackmail are usually not likely to come forward once the blackmailer has been removed. Instead, they're relieved and make sure they stay in the background.”

“This one didn't.” Signora Pulo looked around. “If only I knew what they wanted. If they have got it, I'll be left at peace now, and I can finally get on with my life. But what if they come back?”

There was a knock on the open door, and a man all dressed in black rolled in. Due to his immense girth, it looked for an instant as if he would get stuck in the door frame, but with a slight and surprising agile twist of his hips, he squiggled through. He didn't have a single hair on his shiny dome of a head and mopped it with a checkered handkerchief. “Signora Pulo! What a catastrophe! Are you all right?”

Signora Pulo straightened her back. “I'm fine, thank you.” Her tone was cold. “The police are already here. This is the Commissario from the Police, Stefano Garini.” She nodded toward the rotund man. “Signor Atta is my neighbor, Commissario. He lives in the apartment opposite.”

Garini lifted an eyebrow. Apparently, there was not much love lost between them. “Did you notice anything unusual this afternoon or early evening, Signor Atta?”

The short man drew himself up and mopped his head again. “Did I see anything unusual? Madonna, yes, I did. I wouldn't have thought that it might be important, but I noticed several strange things this afternoon.”

Signora Pulo rolled her eyes. “I'll get on with my cleaning.” She turned her back on the two of them, picked up a dented espresso maker made of aluminum and pushed it back into a cupboard.

Garini pulled out his tape recorder. “May I tape your statement, Signor Atta?”

“But certainly, certainly, Commissario.” The man puffed out his chest.

“First, there was a small boy who kicked his ball onto my balcony. He rang the bell and asked me to give it back to him. I did so, after I had given him a good piece of my mind. He was lucky, none of my flowers were crushed. That was around four o'clock.”

“At four o'clock, I was still at home.” Signora Pulo interjected.

“Ah.” Signor Atta frowned. “When did you leave, then?”

“Four thirty.”

“All right.” He nodded. “At four thirty-seven exactly--” He interrupted himself and gave Garini a little smile. “I know this because my favorite afternoon show starts at four forty-five, and I didn't want to miss the beginning. It's called The House on Abbey Square, do you know it, Commissario?”

Stefano suppressed a sigh and shook his head.

“Well, never mind, but you should watch it one day. It's worth it. Where was I?”

“At four thirty-seven exactly.”

“Ah, yes.” The round man rocked back on his heels. “At this moment, the door bell rang again, and a man appeared who wanted to collect money for the poor children in Africa. I sent him away with a flea in his ear. I know where all that money goes, and the poor children in Africa never see it, oh, no!”

Garini glanced at his watch. He knew this type of witness. He would go on and on about a zillion unimportant details, feeling better every second, never noticing that his audience were trying hard to keep their minds from wandering. No wonder Signora Pulo had decided to continue with her cleaning. How he wished he could be with Carlina. Her lips had felt so soft. God, how he missed her, the scent of her skin . . . If only her stupid family loyalty hadn't caused that breach between them. With difficulty, he concentrated on Signor Atta again, who had already progressed to another afternoon visitor.

“. . . and then, he walked downstairs, I only saw his back, you see, because I had opened the door a minute too late, wanting to take the trash out, and he was already past it, and such a slim back it was, so fragile, as if it couldn't hurt a fly, but I thought to myself that he sort of walked funny, as if he had something to hide.”

Garini interrupted him “Tell me more about this slim man. Have you seen him before?”

Signora Pula snorted. “No doubt it was just that pimply fifteen year old from the third floor.”

Signor Atta gave her a chagrined look. “I don't think so.” He sighed and changed the subject. “I would never have dreamed that someone could vandalize the apartment of the dear Pulos while I'm right next to them, I mean, the apartment of our dear Signora Pulo, Signor Pulo being murdered in cold blood, in broad daylight! I really don't know what this world is coming to!”

“Quite.” Garini was glad that the machine had recorded it all. It would fill his next report nicely and Cervi would have an apoplexy. Perfect. He thanked the overzealous Signor Atta and ushered him out of the door, then returned to the kitchen.

Signora Pulo rolled her eyes. “I'd never have thought that this curious little so-and-so would ever come in useful.”

Garini refrained from comment.

She put her hands on her hips. “I'm not feeling safe here anymore.”

“I can understand that.” Garini looked at her. “Do you know someone with whom you can stay for the time being?”

She pressed her wilted lips together. “Yes, I think so. I'll have to call her. She's a good friend, and she lives around the corner, so I can come back during the day to clear up this mess.”

“Just make sure you're never on your own,” Garini said. “As long as we don't know what they are looking for and if they have found it, you have to take care.”

“Don't worry, Commissario.” Her voice was grim. “I can take care of myself. I always have.”

II

“Listen to this,” Emma leaned back on the toilet seat in Fabbiola's bathroom and crossed her legs. Her expensive nylons shimmered in the weak afternoon light.

Carlina bent over the bath tub and wiped a wet strand of hair from her brow. “I thought you wanted to help us wash the corn.” With distaste, she saw a black beetle crawling out of the tub, away from the inundated corn. The wet grain gave off a strange smell.

“I said I would join,” Emma corrected. “Which I did. Now I'm here, and I'm entertaining you by reading the newspaper to you, so you won't be bored out of your skull.” Her gaze fell onto the black beetle that had now managed to climb over the rim of the tub. “Eeeh!” She shrieked so loud that Carlina winced. “Lucio!”

Her husband hurried through the door. “What happened?”

“Vermin!” Emma pointed her immaculate fingernail at the black beetle.

“Surprise, surprise,” Carlina said. “We're up to our elbows in vermin, Emma, in case you haven't noticed.”

“And corn.” Fabbiola rushed through the door like a general who was checking the morale of his troops. “Expensive, valuable corn. Corn that would save many children in Africa from starving.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

Lucio took a step forward and flicked the beetle back into the water. “I admit I don't find this funny.”

“Who does?” Carlina said under her breath and stirred the corn with a long, wooden spoon. She shook herself when she saw two more beetles swimming away. “This is disgusting.”

“But think of the good it will do!” Fabbiola beamed at her. “Think of all the wonderful bread!”

As one, Emma, Lucio, and Carlina averted their faces.

“How are the others doing?” Carlina asked to get over the awkward moment.

“We're done,” Ernesto's voice came from the door. His red hair stood up as if he had been in a strong wind. Next to him, his friend Rafaele peered around the corner. “You'd better hurry if you don't want to break up our chain of work.”

“You're done already?” Fabbiola frowned. “Are you sure you've spread all the bedsheets in the living room in the right way and have distributed the corn evenly? If it's not well spread out, it'll mold.”