temptation in florence 05 - seaside in death (17 page)

“We now know the owner of the gun,” Lampone waved a piece of paper underneath Garini's nose, his white hair standing to attention like an army of soldiers. “You'll never believe this!”

Chapter 11

When Carlina woke up and found Stefano gone without a note, she felt bereft. Skipping breakfast, she put on her bikini and the first clothes that were at hand and went down to the beach, feeling the need for solitude and beauty around her. Once she got to the shore, she stopped and took a deep breath. It was early still, quiet and serene. She held her sandals in one hand, so she could walk through the shallow water. The water felt cool and nice, and the soft sand welcomed her feet. Glistening highlights were reflecting on the water. It was all so beautiful, so summery and carefree, but inside her, everything was dark and cold and hard. Aimlessly, she walked on and on and on, with her gaze fixed on the ground.

How she hated to be at odds with Stefano. He really should have believed her that she hadn't created any false evidence. Why, she had barely talked to Agatha and had come late into the discussion. He should have listened to her. Who did he think she was? A criminal?

Her thoughts circled around their relationship. It wasn't easy to go out with a policeman when your family was bent on being highly unconventional. She loved him and was very happy with him, but whenever her overwhelming family was near, she felt stretched in two different directions.

Carlina stumbled into a shallow puddle she'd not seen and looked up with a start. She had no idea where she was. The beach clubs all looked the same – rows and rows of little umbrellas and sun loungers, all identical if you didn't count the change in color every two hundred meters. It would take her ages to return to the hotel. With a heavy heart, she turned around. She was hot and thirsty and discouraged. Most of all, she was angry that neither Stefano nor Ernesto trusted her. Men! They all wanted to do everything by themselves. Stupid guys. She kicked up the sand and grumbled underneath her breath, then decided that she'd better return by way of the promenade. It would be hotter, but she was less likely to lose her way.

Her thoughts now turned to her cousin. Ernesto had avoided her yesterday, looking as if he hadn't slept in a week. Really, he had clammed up in a completely unprecedented way. She thought back to the conversation they'd had on the pier. He hadn't admitted anything, but when she'd told him that he was covering for someone, he had not protested. Surely that was a sign? If it was wrong, he would have said so. But he hadn't. So maybe he had told her something after all, without meaning to.

Carlina reached the promenade and marched on, deep in thought. Without the constant distraction of her family around, she finally had time to think. What could Ernesto have meant when he said that growing up was so hard? She stopped in the shade of a leafy palm tree and frowned. Growing up . . . progressing into adulthood with all its challenges and fears. Ernesto was eighteen; they should start getting used to the fact that he was a young adult now. And suddenly, it all came together in one blinding light: His impatience to leave on vacation. His pride in his super cool sunglasses. The excessive use of aftershave. The uncharacteristic stubbornness to give up the room with the free access to the garden.

Ernesto had fallen in love! He had fallen in love with a girl here in Forte dei Marmi, and he was meeting her secretly, at night. Carlina gasped. Was that the right conclusion? It seemed incredible that Ernesto, who had so far only shown an interest in computer games and chemicals, should have fallen for a girl – and fallen hard, if she was any judge. But then, he had to start at some point. But why was he keeping it a secret? And how had they met? They only spent two weeks of the year here at the seaside.

She frowned and went on to the closest
gelateria
. An ice-cream was in order now. It would help cool her brain. She ordered three tastes - mango and apricot and lemon - in a crisp waffle cone, then slowly walked toward the hotel, licking the tangy ice-cream.

Now that she'd gotten used to the idea of Ernesto having a girlfriend, it didn't seem quite so fantastic anymore. Now that she thought about it, she realized that Ernesto had kept in touch with several locals throughout the years. They'd played together on the beach when they were small, and somehow, a friendship had developed. The parents of the local kids were all busy in some way or other in the tourist trade, without much time to look after their kids during high season, and Ernesto had loved to be surrounded by boys of his age for once.

At least, she assumed that they were all boys. In fact, one of them had come to stay with them in Florence several years ago. He'd driven home with them after the vacation of the Mantoni family had come to an end and had spent a week with Ernesto at Benedetta's apartment. They had hardly seen the two boys. Maybe that was why she didn't remember his name. Or did she? Flavio. That was it! His name was Flavio. A nice guy. Calm and friendly, if a bit awkward. But then, they all were like that at that age. He was also a bit older than Ernesto. Two years? Something like that. Gosh, that would make him twenty. Not so very young anymore. Suddenly, she felt ancient though she was only thirteen years older than her cousin.

Now she remembered another thing. Ernesto often played online games with partners that could be at the other end of the world, and some of them came from Forte dei Marmi. He had once mentioned that, and she knew that he spent half his day texting friends and keeping in touch via Facebook or whatever social media platform they used. So maybe it wasn't far-fetched at all that he had found a girlfriend from Forte dei Marmi.

Somewhere, a radio played this years' summer song, a happy tune that invited you to skip a bit and hum along. True summer feeling. She sighed. Everything could be perfect. Instead, they had to chase a murderer. She finished her ice-cream with regret and continued to think. So Ernesto had a girlfriend. And he was covering for her with a fierce protectiveness that spoke volumes. First, of his love for her. Second, of his conviction that she was guilty. A shiver ran down her spine. What if she really was guilty? No wonder Ernesto was crushed. Imagine, loving someone,
à corps perdu
, as the French said, with your whole body lost . . . and then to find that this person was a murderer. She didn't even want to imagine what she would feel like if she'd ever have to suspect that Stefano had murdered someone. She stopped in mid movement, her foot in the air. Wait a minute. That's what Stefano had had to imagine several times already about her. She shuddered again. Good thing this time her motive for killing the hotel manager was negligible. Now back to Ernesto. Who was the girl?

She could try to find this friend of Ernesto, Flavio. But she wasn't even sure that she would recognize him. Boys changed a lot from fifteen to twenty. Besides, she had hardly seen him during that short week in Florence all those years ago. She couldn't ask Ernesto, that much was sure. She couldn't join the gaming community and try to get into that circle, either. She had no clue what games Ernesto played and it would take way too long. She had to find that girl now.

Carlina walked on, her mind circling around the problem, hardly noticing where she was going. The day was scorching, with the heat coming off the asphalt in waves. Without making a conscious decision, she found herself back at the hotel, next to the pool. It was deserted. No wonder, considering that this was where the murder had taken place. Besides, it was almost lunch time now, so people would be flocking to the restaurants.

The water beckoned to her, cool and blue. A bird chirped somewhere in an olive tree, and the bees were busy. It was a peaceful scene, one where murder didn't belong.

On a whim, Carlina pulled off her shirt and shorts and slipped out of her shoes, then dove into the water. It was cooler than she'd expected, and she came up again gasping for air but at the same time, feeling much better. She turned onto her back and stretched out with a contented sigh, floating on the water without moving. This was, after all, her holiday. When she lifted her head just a little bit, she could see her toes peeping out of the water. The dark-red nail polish with an extra glittering layer looked nice next to the blue. She dropped her head back and continued to float, enjoying the cool water all around her while feeling the warm sunshine on her face.
This is heaven.

That's when she heard a gasp.

Her eyes flew open. At the edge of the pool stood the waitress Nora. She had pressed both hands against her mouth.

“Nora! What's the matter?” Carlina swam to the side of the pool and gripped the edge. “What happened?”

Nora's brown eyes had widened so that the whites showed all around. “I thought you were dead.” She gulped and sank down at the edge of the pool, her knees folding underneath her as if they didn't have the strength to carry her anymore.

“I'm sorry.” Carlina wiped the water from her eyes. “I was just relaxing a bit. I didn't mean to startle you.”

“That's all right.” Nora still seemed to have trouble with her breathing. “I shouldn't have reacted like that. I just thought it was another body, and so close to the spot where
Signor
Rosari's body was found . . . that startled me.”

Carlina blinked.
So close to the spot?
She didn't know where the murdered man had been killed. Somewhere at the pool, yes, but she hadn't asked Stefano for any details. How did Nora know about that? Carlina hadn't seen any spots of blood – but she hadn't looked for them, either.

Nora gave her a nervous glance. “Silvia, the girl who does the rooms, told me about it,” she said as if she had read Carlina's thoughts. She pointed toward the hotel. “You can see the pool from the guest rooms.”

Carlina nodded. That was a likely explanation. She pulled herself up and sat next to Nora, her feet dangling in the water. With a look at Nora's casual t-shirt and shorts, she said, “Do you have time off for lunch now?”

Nora nodded. “Yes. I work early in the morning and also in the evening, but not during lunch hours.” Her face had regained a bit of color. “I've got to go.”

Carlina turned her head to smile at her, then her gaze fell to the print on Nora's t-shirt, and for an instant, everything froze. The sparkling water in the pool stopped moving; the birds fell silent; and even the leaves stopped rustling in the hot summer breeze. She knew that logo. It was a Gothic print with some curlicues, dramatic fangs and a hideous monster with huge claws.
Monster IV
. The game Ernesto liked to play. Here was the connection she'd been looking for! With a superhuman effort, she managed to suppress a gasp. Was this the girl Ernesto had fallen for? Was this the one he was shielding?

A shiver ran down her spine.
If yes, I'm sitting next to the murderer. In my bikini.

Chapter 12

Back at the police station, Garini took the paper and read the name, then he looked up, his face blank. “The gun belonged to Rosari himself?”

“Yes!” Lampone's colorless eyes seemed to glow. “What do you make of that?”

Garini leaned against a table and stared at the piece of paper in his hands with a frown. “There are only two explanations. Either he took the gun himself, expecting trouble, or his wife did. She would be the one with easiest access to the gun.”

Lampone moved his head from side to side. “But he already moved out in January. Do you think he left the gun behind?”

Garini looked up. “You've studied my reports?” There was no other way Lampone could have known that Rosari had moved out in January.

Lampone nodded. “All of them. They're very helpful. I wish they had assigned you to us instead of Pucci when the post was on offer.”

Garini smiled. His own boss, Cervi, never paid a compliment if he could avoid it, and he was surprised how good it felt. The raspberry may not have an eye for dust, but he was a more motivating boss than Cervi, that much was sure. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Yes, it's possible that he left the gun behind, but it's not very likely. From all I've heard so far, it would have been far more in character if he had taken it with him.”

Lampone took a quick turn around the desk. “Okay, let's assume for a moment that he took the gun.”

“We can ask the staff at the hotel if they ever saw it.”

“Yes.” Lampone nodded. “I'll send Ambrosiano to do so as soon as he comes in again. I'm glad he's well again. Pucci, however, has gotten a doctor's confirmation that he'll be sick for a full week at least.”

Garini thought it wise not to comment on that.

Lampone opened his mouth, but before he could speak, there was a knock at the door and a sweaty courier driver rushed in. “I've got a special delivery for you.”

Garini looked at Lampone in surprise. Did they expect an urgent courier delivery?

Lampone shrugged, accepted the red envelope, and signed the receipt, then ripped open the plastic wrapping. “It's from the pathologist.” He unfolded a letter and held it in such a way that Garini could read over his shoulder.

When they had finished, they looked at each other.

“Curious,” Garini blinked.

Lampone nodded. “Very odd.”

They re-read the text, then Lampone scratched his head. “Well, at least we now know that he wasn't drowned in seawater or something. That would have thrown us back no end.”

Garini looked at the thin man in surprise. So he had a sense of humor? “Let me get this straight,” he said. “It says that the victim was a well-fed man in his fifties, healthy and comparatively fit and that the cause of death was a bullet which entered his heart from the front.”

“That's how I read it, too.” Lampone confirmed.

“But the funny thing is that the bullet entered the heart from below and ended up stuck in his heart because it got deflected by a rib.” Garini frowned.

“Correct.”

“Now let me picture this.” Garini crouched down in front of Lampone. “Say you're the victim. And according to the description, the bullet entered at this angle.” He lifted his hand just a bit and pointed it at Lampone. Then he shook his head, perplexed.