A Fashion Felon in Rome (9 page)

Immobilized, I watched as Leonard crept around the side of the house, reaching into his jacket pocket and running a comb briskly through his hair.  Smoothing out his clothing, he darted into the driveway and clicked his car key pad to unlock the doors.  As Leonard fisted the door handle, Massimo grabbed my hand and ran with me to the driveway.

“Stop right there, Leonard!” Massimo yelled as the Englishman looked at us in shock.

“What the hell? Did you two follow me here? What’s the meaning of this?” He demanded. 

“I need to have a word with you,” Massimo seethed as I glared at him. He was treating Leonard as though he were a criminal.  Maybe I only had a week’s worth of detective experience, but I had 30 years of people experience that told me this was exactly the way to make someone shut down.

“No can do.  I have an errand to run,” Leonard evaded, clenching his car keys in his hand.

“An errand? At this late hour?” Massimo probed.

“It’s none of your affair,” Leonard declared.

“Is Evelyn here?” I spoke up in a gentler tone.  “Your fiancée, I mean.  She is your fiancée, right?”

Leonard shot me a pulverizing stare that told me I had hit the nail on the head. “She’s asleep and my relationship with her is private,” he evaded
, maneuvering his big body into the slim sedan.

“Leonard, I’m telling you,” Massimo warned.  “If you drive away now, you’re going to look even more suspicious.”

“Suspicious? Oh so I’m a suspect now, am I?  I didn’t even know that Tomaso gigolo.  No one in Rome did.  You’re barking up the wrong alley,” he gritted, cranking up the ignition and throwing the car into reverse.

Massimo clasped my hand more tightly, guiding us to take a simultaneous step back from Leonard’s car. 
Spearing us with a distasteful grimace, Leonard burned rubber out of the driveway and onto the dusty beach road.  As soon as Leonard had vanished into the night, Massimo lunged for his cell phone.

“Did you hear what Leonard said?” I asked softly.

“Yes, he’s an arrogant son of a…”

“No, d
id you hear what he called Tomaso?” I clarified impatiently.

“Huh?”

“He called him a gigolo! Why would Leonard say something like that about a man he claims not to know?  The only way that Leonard would know that Tomaso was a gigolo is if he had been fooling around with Evelyn.  That’s the only explanation!”

“As usual, I think you’re right,” Massimo clipped, speaking sternly into the phone.  “I need a squad car here.  Immediately.  I’m in Stella Polare at Evelyn Flowers’ residence.  And I also need you to track Leonard Jilton’s license number and follow him.  He needs to be questioned about Tomaso’s death.”

Massimo’s voice echoed along the sea breeze as I dashed over to the front door, knocking firmly several times.  No answer.  Relentlessly, I pounded my fists against the door, an uneasy feeling in my gut overtaking me.  As my knocks went unanswered, I kicked the door, certain that even the deepest of sleepers would hear the intrusive sound.  But still I received no reply.  A horrific possibility brewed in my mind as I beat my fists into the door until my knuckles were raw.

Chapter 10

“Massimo!” I cried as he looked over at me with grave concern.  “Evelyn’s not answering the door!”

“Put a rush call on those squad cars.  It’s urgent!” Massimo shouted into the phone before bolting to my side.

“Massimo, I’m really worried.  Why isn’t she answering the door?” I said breathlessly as he
led me over to the side of the house.

“I don’t know, but we need to break down the window and get in,” he said harshly. 

He held his fist up to the glass, poised to punch the window open.  “Don’t! You could break your hand,” I hissed.  “Isn’t there something in your car that you could use to break the window open?”

“Probably,” Massimo huffed, rushing back to the car as I followed.

“I should never have asked to stop for that stupid ice cream.  We might have given Leonard just enough time to…”

“Don’t say it,” Massimo begged, examining an umbrella and deeming it too weak to shatter the glass.

“Kill her!” I finished with a lump in my throat.  “They probably had a huge fight and he lost his temper and…”

“Okay, don’t get carried away.  We don’t know what happened yet.  But we’re going to.” Massimo lifted a heavy metal wrench out of the car, running towards the window and hurling it at the glass.  “Duck
down!” He ordered as the glass shards flew everywhere.

Protecting his hands with a pair of gloves, Massimo wiped away the remaining glass from the windowsill.  “Okay, it’s safe now.  Let’s slip inside.  I’ll go first and make sure everything is safe…no, on second thought, wait for me out here.  I don’t want you to be traumatized by what might be in there.”

“There’s no way I’m waiting out here! Don’t worry about me.  Just hurry so we can get to her!” I screamed as Massimo hoisted himself through the window.

Feeling like
a curvier version of Catwoman, I slinked inside right behind him, my rump centimeters away from getting stuck.  “Evelyn! Evelyn, are you okay? It’s Gianna and Massimo!” I called hopefully, holding my breath waiting for a response.

To my enormous relief, a cowering Evelyn emerged from the kitchen, wielding a large wooden spoon in an apparent effort to defend herself.  “Gianna!” She gasped.  “That was you knocking on the door like
a psychopath? I thought Leonard had forgotten his keys and came back to hurt me!”

“You’re alive,” I whispered, gazing at Massimo who exhaled in unison with me.

“How did you know that I needed help?” She asked shakily.

“So Leonard
was
trying to harm you?” I prodded, taking a step closer as she laid the wooden spoon on an armchair.

“Yes, I guess you probably figured out that he’s my fiancé…and I don’t think I should tell you the rest.” She looked guiltily down at the floor.

“Yes, you should,” I coaxed.  “Because I have a confession too.  Massimo is not my boyfriend.  He and I have been investigating Tomaso’s death together.”

“
Gianna
,” Massimo grated, furious that I had leaked the information.

“No, it’s okay.  I want to work with you guys,” Evelyn said softly, sweeping a teardrop off her cheek.

“Leonard murdered Tomaso, didn’t he? Leonard was the one who cut the brakes on Tomaso’s boat, right?” I deduced.

She sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I know what I did was wrong.”

“You mean getting involved with Tomaso?” I conjectured.

“Yes. How did you know that?” Evelyn asked, taken aback.

“I didn’t know it for sure.  But I thought it was pretty likely. You and Denise both flirted with him quite a bit,” I pointed out candidly.

“I know.  And I shouldn’t have cheated on Leonard. It’s all my fault! I’m the reason that Tomaso is dead!” Evelyn sobbed.

“No, Leonard is the reason that Tomaso is dead,” I corrected.

“Did Leonard actually confess to you?” Massimo inquired.

“No, but he didn’t deny it either when I accused him.  I had suspected all along that Leonard was the murderer.  He saw me kissing Tomaso on the beach…oh, I was so stupid!” She raved.  “But tonight at the dock, I felt certain for the first time that Leonard was the killer.  And the way he treated me when we got home only made me even more sure.”

“How so?” Massimo probed.

“He had never been violent before, but tonight he shoved me against the wall.  He shoved me so hard.  So I told him to leave.  Just to get out.  But I should have gotten a confession from him before I let him walk out.  Oh, I’m a horrible person.  Tomaso only bought that boat to impress me. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore,” she despaired as a shadow appeared in the bare window.

We simultaneously gasped, fearing that Leonard had indeed come back this time.  Instead, though, the comforting figure of Detective
Cantino materialized.  “We don’t need a confession,” he informed.  “There’s a little something called surveillance footage that’s already taken care of that detail.”

“Surveillance footage at the boat dock, you mean?” I guessed.  “Was Leonard actually caught on tape cutting the brake lines of Tomaso’s boat?”

“He certainly was,” Detective sighed with satisfaction.  “And thanks to you Gianna, and you Massimo, we apprehended him before he could get out of Stella Polare.  We’ve got our killer.”

“And now the Alegres family can get some peace,” I
said, feeling a grateful smile perk up at the corners of my lips.

Spontaneously, I hugged Massimo, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my body warmly into his.  “We did it!” I whispered.

“You deserve most of the credit,” he said gruffly, holding me a little too tightly.  “Let me take you back to the hotel now.  You deserve a good night’s rest.”

“I really
do need a good night’s rest,” I agreed as we each shook hands with the detective.

Walking over to Evelyn, who was still trembling, I pulled her into a supportive hug.  “You’ll get through this.  And remember, it’s not your fault.”

She hugged me back feebly and nodded uncertainly.  “Thanks, Gianna.”

“Let’s go, Detective Gianna,” Massimo offered warmly as we slid out the window like graceful wildcats embracing the full moon and
airy night.

***

Early the next morning, I arose feeling more refreshed and peaceful than I had since arriving in Rome.  Tomaso’s murderer was behind bars, and I had played a pivotal role in making that happen.  Justice was being served, and in a few minutes, a scrumptious buffet breakfast would be served in the lobby.  Stretching luxuriantly, I reached for my phone, noting that Richard still hadn’t called or sent a message.

More out of obligation than desire, I dialed him in New York.  It was the middle of the night back home, and I would probably be waking him up.  But I didn’t care.  We needed to break the silence.

On the fifth ring, our lines connected.  “Hello?” A cooing female voice answered.

My heart halted as I wondered if I could have dialed the wrong number.  But no, I had gone straight to my contacts and pressed Richard’s speed dial entry.  There was no one else’s number it could be but Richard’s.

“Who is this?” I demanded as a commotion erupted on the other end of the line.

“Why did you answer my phone?!” Richard’s voice was muffled but outraged.

“Oh, sorry,” the female voice apologized.

“Give me that! Oh no…” Richard sounded desolate.  “Gianna?”

“Yes, it’s me,” I replied tightly.  “Who is that woman?”

“My co-worker, Cynthia…we’re working late tonight.” The lie didn’t fool me for a second.

“Working late? I’m not stupid, Richard.  Who is she?” My voice rose several octaves in my
fury.

“I told you, she’s…”

“Just stop! You’re cheating on me, aren’t you? I can’t believe this!” I slammed my hand on the nightstand as angry tears pooled in my eyes.

“I’m not cheating, I swear…”

“Richard, if you tell me one more lie, I’m hanging up this phone right now!”

A long pause followed before Richard croaked, “I’m sorry, Gianna.  But you’ve been gone so long and…”

“I haven’t even been gone two weeks!”

“I know, but I just got lonely and…”

“You’re pathetic.  Absolutely pathetic.  It’s over, Richard.  There’s nothing you can possibly say.  I’ll never trust you again!”

Before he could try to weasel out of his deception with another lame excuse, I disconnected the call, throwing myself onto the bed and burying my face in a pillow.
  Indignant tears stained the pillowcase as I wallowed in the painful reality that my relationship with Richard was over.  We hadn’t even made it to our one year anniversary.  Amidst my rage, though, a strange sense of relief flooded through me.  I had been falling out of love with Richard since…honestly, since the moment I met Massimo.  Or had I ever been in love with Richard at all?

A knock on my hotel room door startled me out of my musings.  Tossing the pillow aside, I squared my shoulders and walked with dignity over to the door.  Peering through the peephole, I was shocked to see Massimo standing on the other side of the door.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out, instinctively pulling the ratty tee-shirt I had worn to bed down my knees to hide myself even though he couldn’t see me.

“Good morning.  I wanted to take you to breakfast.  Is that okay?” He queried, sounding more than a tad nervous.

“Breakfast?” I echoed, trying to remember the last time I had taken a shower.

“Yes, but not a date,” he said hurried
ly.  “Just a thank you meal for working so hard to solve the crime.”

“I’d love to,” I breathed, glimpsing his smile through the peephole.  “Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said chivalrously as I dashed to my suitcase and rummaged through my unworn outfits.