temptation in florence 03 - bankers death (22 page)

Ernesto sighed. “Don't worry. Maria is evening them out with a spatula. She's still at it, together with Simonetta.”

Fabbiola rushed from the bathroom to check.

“I say.” Emma rattled her newspaper. “Does nobody want to hear what I have to say?”

“No.” Her brother grinned at her. “But that shouldn't be new to you.”

She gave him a scathing glance. “I wasn't talking to you.”

“Let's hear it.” Carlina added more water and stirred the corn yet another time.

Emma lifted her voice to be heard above the gushing sound of the water. “The police are asking for your cooperation. If anybody recognizes the knife in the picture, please contact your nearest police station.”

“Wicked.” Ernesto came into the room to peer over Emma's shoulder. “Is that it? It looks like a dagger out of Arabian Nights, but it's so tiny. I guess it was used to kill the newspaperman, wasn't it, Carlina?”

“I don't know,” Carlina said. “As I've told you before, I'm not in the confidence of the Commissario.”

“But Fabbiola said you were having a romantic dinner last night.” Ernesto gave his cousin a worried look. “She said you were making it up.”

The romantic dinner was bread in the company of my disguised mother, and then Garini rushed off.
Carlina nodded. “Yeah, but even if we make it up, which, by the way, is no concern of yours, I still wouldn't be told all the police secrets.”

Ernesto shrugged. “Sorry.”

Carlina was sorry she had snapped at him. She was fond of her cousin and liked his uncomplicated way which was in stark contrast to his two sisters Annalisa and Emma.

“Of course this is the knife that was used to kill the newspaperman.” Emma folded the newspaper and used its tip to kick another beetle back into the tub. “We know that Valentino was killed with Mama's knife, so that one is accounted for. It's only logical that this is the other murder weapon.”

“Are you in here, Carlina?” Maria appeared in the bathroom door next to Rafaele. “There's a man at the front door. He wants to talk to you.”

Carlina straightened and dried off her hands on a limp towel. “Do you know who it is?”

“No.” Maria shook her head. “He didn't want to say his name.” Her eyes widened. “Is he dangerous, do you think?”

Carlina noticed that Maria was paler than usual. She hesitated. “I shouldn't think so. I mean, it would be pretty stupid to walk in here and ring the front doorbell if you want to harm someone.”

“I think I'll just go with you,” Lucio said.

“Me too.” Ernesto joined in.

“And me.” Rafaele nodded in his slow way.

Carlina smiled at them and left the bathroom first. Then she did a double-take. The wooden floor boards were completely covered with white blankets and wet corn. The smell became overpowering. Carlina started to breathe through her mouth.

A small trail at the side had been left uncovered, and she turned her back to the wall and sidled along it like a crab until she reached the door. Lucio, Ernesto, and Rafaele were right behind her.

Chapter 11

I

“Orfeo!” Carlina stared at her old school friend. “I've not seen you for years!”

The tiny man on the landing shuffled his feet. “Hi, Carlina.” He stood on tiptoe and peered over her shoulder. “Is . . . is there a party?” His voice faltered, and he flinched as if he had hurt himself.

Carlina looked over her shoulder.

Lucio, Ernesto, and Rafaele had built a wall behind her, shoulder to shoulder, all with arms crossed over their chests. Their brows were pulled together, low over their eyes, and their mouths were pressed into one thin line.

Carlina grinned.
It looks as if they rehearsed this.
“Oh, no. These are my bodyguards.”

Orfeo cringed. “Bodyguards? Why?”

“Just a joke,” Carlina said.

“How did you get into the house?” Lucio cut in.

“I . . .” Orfeo started to stammer. “An elderly man let me in. He said I should go up, that I would find Carlina on the third floor, at her mother's apartment. I think it was your Uncle Teo, Carlina. Is that a problem?”

“Uncle Teo really should be more careful,” Ernesto said.

Rafaele nodded. “Can't let everybody into the house. Who knows what might happen. Simonetta will scream again.”

Orfeo looked as if he already regretted coming.

“Why are you here?” Lucio thrust his chin forward.

“I . . . I wanted to talk to Carlina.”

“You're doing so now.” Rafaele pointed out.

Orfeo threw a wild look over his shoulder, down the stairs, as if making sure that his way of retreat was still unblocked.

Carlina frowned. Orfeo had always been a shy guy. Due to his tiny stature, he had never been popular at sports, and being shy, he had never been at the center of attention, but she had liked him, and they had become friends over time. Not close friends, though, and they had drifted apart after he had taken over the bric-a-brac store from his father, working long hours, just like she did. “Let's go up to my place,” she said. “We can talk there.”

“Remember what happened in your apartment the last time.” Ernesto's voice was full of foreboding.

Orfeo's eyes widened. “Why? What?”

“That's where the banker was killed.” Rafaele dropped a heavy hand on Orfeo's shoulder. “So no silly business, you hear us?”

“Will you please stop this?” Carlina wanted to shake the boys. She could tell that underneath their stern exterior, they were having a whale of a time, but listening to them, you might think they had killed Valentino with a flick of the wrist just because he dared to approach Carlina in the wrong way.

Lucio shook his head. “I don't think it's a good idea to talk to him by yourself, Carlina.”

Carlina's patience was wearing thin. “Listen, you three. I appreciate your concern and help, but it's not necessary at the moment. Orfeo is an old friend.”

“They say most murders are done within the closest circle of family and friends.” Rafaele shook his head like a sad beagle.

“Then I have more to fear from you than from him.” Carlina grabbed Orfeo's sleeve and dragged him upstairs. Over her shoulder, she said, “You can stand guard in front of my door if that would make you feel better. I'll leave it open.”

She pulled Orfeo into her apartment and pointed at the armchair with the leopard print blanket. “Sit down,” she said. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” Orfeo looked around with the expression of a chased rabbit. “Was . . . was your cousin really killed here?”

Carlina bit her lips. “Yes.” She dropped onto the sofa and faced Orfeo. “What did you come to tell me?”

Her school friend threw a nervous look at the door that was slightly ajar and lowered his voice. “Did you know that my mother and your aunt go to the same hairdresser?”

Carlina blinked. A feeling of having strayed into an obscure dream gripped her. “Is that why you came?”

Orfeo frowned. “Of course not. It's just that my mother told me you were going out with the Commissario who's in charge of the banker's murder.”

I used to go out with him
. Sadness filled her. She didn't want to go into that. “Yes?”

“Well . . .” Orfeo twisted his hands and looked at them as if they could speak for him. Then the words poured out of him in a rush. “When I read the newspaper this morning, I realized that I had sold the dagger, but I didn't quite feel like going directly to the Commissario, so I decided to come to you first, because you know me, and it would be a bit easier to explain.”

Carlina blinked. “Explain what?”

“The . . . the situation.”

I don't understand a word.
“What situation? If you sold the dagger, that's great. You have to go to the police immediately. They'll be really grateful to learn who you sold it to.”

“That's just it.” Orfeo folded his hands as if in prayer then turned them until his fingers looked all twisted.

Carlina remembered that he always did that when he found it hard to express himself. Which was every time he opened his mouth, really. She wondered how he managed to serve his customers at the store. Still, she didn't have a clue what on earth he was trying to tell her. She gave him an encouraging smile. “Yes?”

“It sounds like a bad movie.” Orfeo lifted his thin shoulders and dropped them again.

Carlina was still groping in the dark. “A bad movie?”

“Yes.” Orfeo nodded. “Because there was this man at my store, you see.”

Carlina frowned. “Yes?”

“He looked around the store, but I couldn't see his face well because he was wearing a cap, like a baseball cap, only without logo, in dark blue, and he had pulled it so low on his face that it was hard to make out anything at all, even without the mustache, but--”

“Mustache?”

“Yes, he had a big, hairy mustache that hung over his mouth. His hands were covered with fat rings, all gold.” Orfeo drew a deep breath and gave her a pleading gaze. “And he spoke with a Russian accent.”

“Madonna.” Carlina blinked. “Now I know what you mean.”

“Yes.” Orfeo sighed. “They'll chase me out of the door. They'll think I've seen too many bad movies and want to be in the limelight for once.” He lifted his troubled gaze to her. “Do you now understand why I don't want to go to the police?” He had beautiful eyes. They were his best feature. Large and black and fringed with thick lashes.

If he looked at her like that, he reminded her of a five-year-old who had done something wrong and hoped not to be punished too hard. Carlina swallowed. She could imagine Garini's reaction if he had to listen to that story without warning. “When did you sell it?”

“The day before the newspaperman was stabbed.” Orfeo lifted his bony shoulders. “Of course, it's possible that I'm mistaken, but the knife was pretty rare.”

“How stupid of the murderer to buy a rare knife. He should have known that it would get traced back to him in no time at all.”

Orfeo shrugged. “Maybe he counted on his luck. It's not easy to get knives this long and thin and sharp. Maybe the murderer had to hide the knife before he could use it. This one would have been easy to hide within a sleeve.”

“I see your point.” Carlina nodded. “Are you one hundred percent sure that it was your knife?”

“As sure as I can be, going by the picture.” Orfeo stared at the tips of his shoes. “I guess the police would ask me to identify it.”

“Yes.”

He shuddered. “That's gross.”

“How did the Russian pay?”

“In cash, with small notes and coins.”

Carlina sighed. “Right.”

“So.” Orfeo looked up. “What do you suggest we do?”

“I suggest that you go to the police station immediately.”

He flinched. “No.”

“No?”

Orfeo shook his head. “I was wondering if maybe you . . . you could . . . ?”

“I could do what?”

Again that little boy look. “If you could tell the Commissario my story and check out his reaction.”

She didn't have to check it out. She could already see the sarcastic lifting of Garini's eyebrow, his cool eyes observing everything without letting on what he was thinking. “I don't think so.”

Orfeo twisted his hands until his fingers turned blue. “But--”

“Garini will kill me if I come to him with that story on my own.”

“But . . . you're together, aren't you?” Orfeo seemed confused.

“Sort of.” She didn't want to go into that. “But I've already meddled enough in his investigation. You go. It's important and your duty. Who knows. You might be instrumental in catching the murderer.”

He made a face as if someone was pulling out a tooth. “I doubt it. It's all so ridiculous, and it was obviously a exaggerated disguise that won't get us anywhere. Maybe I shouldn't tell the police after all. It won't help them anyway.”

Carlina reared back. If Orfeo didn't tell Garini, she would have to do so on her own, and that would make Garini really happy. “No way.” She bent forward and intensified her efforts when she noted the terrified expression in his eyes. “It's your duty as a citizen.”
How pompous I sound.
“I guess,” she added to lighten up things.

Orfeo hunched over. “Oh, Madonna. Carlina, I--” he broke off and stared at her.

Don't you dare to ask me to join you
. Carlina met his gaze with a stare as hard as she could make it.

“Will you come with me?”

II

He already saw them from a long way off. Carlina was leaning on the stone wall that bordered the Arno and looking at the muddy-brown waters foaming underneath the bridge to her left. Next to her, a thin man stood shivering, with his arms clasped around his body as if he was cold. He shouldn't be. The sharp wind had dropped, and an unexpected spring day was the result, with an almost translucent blue sky above them. The city emerged from winter a bit bedraggled, with a few terracotta pots broken and crooked shutters, their light green paint peeling, but already, you could feel how things stirred and moved again, full of hope, full of vigor. The plane trees had a touch of green about them, as if a fairy had touched them and transformed their silver-gray over night. The sparrows were chirping and hopping around, celebrating that the hard times were over, and freshly planted tulips and daffodils added touches of color to the window boxes on the houses behind Carlina.

He felt a sudden urge to run to her and sweep her up in his arms, but he measured his pace. She had said she had something important to tell him, something he should know immediately. God knows what it would be this time. Who was the man next to her? He had never seen him before.

As if she had felt his approach, she whipped around and looked at him. Her cat-like eyes met his with a bit of defiance.

He braced himself. “Carlina.”

“Ciao, Stefano.” She pulled the man next to her forward as if he was a limp puppet. “This is my old school friend, Orfeo Lino. We haven't been much in touch lately because he also owns a store. Today, he came to our house because he saw the newspaper ad about the knife, and--”

“Why don't you let him speak for himself?” Garini looked at the small man next to Carlina. Was this another member of the wide-spread Mantoni family? Someone who needed to be protected by Carlina? He felt his temper rising.