Charmer's Death (Temptation in Florence Book 2) (12 page)

Enrique shrugged. “Around twelve, I believe.”

Clearly, Carlina wasn't the object of his desire. But at least it fit with Carlina's statement.

“
So Ricciarda left the store at one and came directly here?”

“
Five minutes past.” Obviously, the wait had been endless. “Yes, she came directly here, and she also returned directly to the store.”

“
Was she in any way different?”

He frowned. “No. She was calm, as always. Maybe quieter than usual, even. She's like a saint, you know, always friendly.”

Gag.
“Quite.” Garini leaned forward. “And you are quite sure that Ricciarda didn't ask you to confirm these times? It sounds a bit too perfect, you know.”

Enrique blanched. “She didn't. I tell you. I wouldn't want to hurt her, not for a minute.”

“If you are covering for her, you would do her the worst possible service.”

The young waiter sat up straight. “I only said the truth! I can't help it that I notice the time when she's here. It's . . . it's just the way it is. You can't blame her for that.”

Indeed I can't, and somehow, you're more convincing than you know.
Garini changed track. “Did you see an American in sports clothes going into the store? Middle-aged, slim, tall, black hair?”

Enrique shook his head. “I can't recall someone like that at all, but then, I don't see everybody.” A lopsided smile. “When I know that Ricciarda is unlikely to come out, I stop checking the mirror. When was it?”

“Between nine and ten in the morning.”

“
Oh, no.” Enrique lifted both hands. “We only open at ten, so I wouldn't have seen him anyway. Besides, in the morning, I'm often clearing up and can't keep an eye on the door of Temptation.”

Garini switched off the recorder. “Thanks. I might come back later to check some details.”

“Sure.” Enrique jumped up. “Anytime.” He hurried to serve his customers while Garini stared at his back with a frown. This young man was a bit too convenient. But then, if Ricciarda had needed an alibi, she would not have constructed one that was so obvious. Somehow, Enrique didn't look like a good actor.

Friendly, yes.

Open, yes.

Devious? Not at all.

He did not believe for one minute that someone as intelligent as Ricciarda would place herself in the hands of someone who might turn out to be a liability. Unless . . . He went up to Enrique and stopped him before he could get within hearing distance of the next table. “One more word, Signor Passo.”

“
Yes?”

“
Be a bit careful in the next weeks.”

Enrique's mouth went slack. “What? Do you think I'm in danger?”

“I didn't say that.” Garini looked him straight in the eye. “Just avoid dangerous situations, will you?”

The waiter swallowed. “Yes.”

When Garini left the café, his cell phone rang. With one hand, he pulled it out and answered it while using his other hand to pull the collar of his leather jacket closer around his neck. The wind had a sharp edge to it today.

“
Hello, this is Piedro speaking.”

“
Piedro. What happened?” His assistant rarely ever went to the trouble of calling him.

“
We just got a report about Signor Accanto's uncle.”

“
Good.” Garini sensed his mood perking up. The uncle would help him to get a better picture of Trevor Accanto, to show another side he had not yet been able to investigate - about his family, about a person who had been with him over a longer period of time, as opposed to the ever changing women at his side. “What does it say?”

“
He doesn't exist.”

“
What?” Garini felt his hope dropping to the floor with a thud.

“
The report says they hunted for relations of Signor Accanto high and low, but they did not discover a single trace. He had a mother whose birthday was January 3rd and it seems he often came to see her when she had still been alive.”

“
Damn. When did she die?”

“
Seven years ago. She was eighty-nine.”

Garini's mood sank. It seemed Trevor had preferred all his relations to be short-lived or superficial. A sad life, when you thought about it.

“Commissario?” Piedro sounded insecure, as always.

“
Yes?”

“
Do you want to know anything else?”

Garini curbed his impatience. “Does the report mention anything else? If yes, then I'd like to know about it.”

“Oh.” Piedro sank into ruminative silence. “No, I don't think the report said much else.”

Garini decided to read it himself as soon as possible, just to be on the safe side.

“Oh, yes,” Piedro suddenly added with a voice as if he had discovered a new painting of Leonardo da Vinci in a hidden attic. “Now I know. His mother's neighbors remembered him.”

“
Yes?”

“
They said he was very charming.”

Garini closed his eyes in exasperation.
Tell me something new.

“
And that he loved the Christmas season in Italy.”

“
Hmm.”

“
Because it was so . . . so natural, and less artificial than in the States.”

So that solved the question why Trevor Accanto preferred to come to Florence in winter. It sounded like a weak reason, but who was he to judge the idiosyncrasies of an American millionaire? Even so, it did not get him one iota closer to his murderer. “Is this all the report said? Nothing else at all?” Garini asked again.

“That's all.”

“
Where are you?” The message blinked on her cell phone, innocent, innocuous, and yet, it released a storm of emotions inside Carlina. All day long, she had felt down, and even the meeting with the other Christmas Fair participants hadn't helped to release the feeling that she was walking under a dark cloud. All through dinner, she had sat like a statue, listening to her vivacious hostess Sabrina, the wife of the mayor, with only half an ear. She had lost Garini, and the void inside her ached.

But now, he had sent a message, and if felt as if it pulsed right through her veins. It wasn't exactly a lover-like message, and maybe he just needed to talk to her about the case, but at least he got in touch.

She frowned. It wasn't like her to be so desperate. When had she become dependent on Garini's approval? Drat the man.

She pushed back her chair and made sure everybody around her was busy with the conversations going on. They were discussing the last organizational things about the fair. Good. Carlina's fingers slid over the display. “At a restaurant close to Palazzo Pitti. Dinner with mayor's wife.”

His answer came a heartbeat later. “Impressive.” She could almost hear the irony in his voice. “State banquet?”

“
Prep dinner for the Florence Christmas Fair.” Would he remember she had told him about it?

“
Can I accompany you home?”

Carlina blinked. Did he know she had left the Vespa at home, planning to take a taxi later on, knowing she would drink too much wine? He didn't miss much. “Yep. Half an hour?”

“OK.”

It was hardly a lover-like exchange, so why did she suddenly feel as if the room had turned brighter? She looked at he
r friend Rosanna across the table, discussing ways to decorate her flower booth with an interior designer she had not known some weeks previously. Even if the fair should prove to be a disaster from a sales point of view, it had brought them all forward, had created connections that would prove valuable, and had made each of them stronger.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder. Even before she turned, Carlina knew it was Sabrina.
Her perfume was unmistakable, French, expensive, lingering on long after she had gone
. “Are you enjoying yourself?” Sabrina's voice was deep and resonant, almost like a man's.

“
Very much.” Carlina smiled at her. “I was just thinking that you helped us tremendously by bringing us all together. The men all have their clubs, their connections of old. We women need to learn how to network.”

Sabrina nodded. “Thank you. That's exactly why I set up this fair.” She looked around the table, her dark eyes shining. They made an interesting contrast to her short, light hair.

Carlina wished she could move with as much self-assurance as the wife of the mayor but maybe it was something that came with more experience. She estimated Sabrina to be somewhere in her fifties, though it was hard to guess because she was such an attractive women and seemed much younger.

A satisfied smile spread across Sabrina's face as she saw the animated people around her. “It's good to know that you can make a difference if you apply yourself to it.”

Carlina glanced at her with curiosity. She didn't know Sabrina well, but the way she had focused on this project and had managed to bring it all together filled her with respect. “Somehow, I don't think it's the first thing you've applied yourself to.” She smiled. “You seem an old hand at it.”

Sabrina nodded. “Thank you. I have to tell you that I'm very impressed by your lace collection. I plan to be one of your biggest customers.”

Something warm pooled inside Carlina. “How nice, thank you.” The words sounded inadequate compared to her feelings. She had worked so hard, and to meet someone who appreciated it made such a difference. However, Sabrina's next words jolted her out of her happiness.

“
I've heard you know the investigating officer of the Santa Trìnita murder.” Sabrina moved her hand and watched the light sparkle on the flashy ring she always wore.

Carlina's mouth dropped open. “Who said that?”

Sabrina smiled. “My husband told me.”

“
Oh.”
And just how does he come to know that?
She didn't dare to ask.

Sabrina pulled up a chair and sat next to Carlina. “He got a report from the police and told me about it.”

“I didn't think I would figure in a police report.”
What did it say?

Sabrina rubbed her nose. “Maybe I shouldn't have told you. I think it's confidential. But Temptation is mentioned as one of the last places where--,” she paused and swallowed, “where the victim was seen alive.”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

“
So you knew him?”

“
Trevor?” Carlina smiled a bit. “Yes, I knew him.”

“
What was he like?”

I wonder why you want to know. Is it natural curiosity or is there anything else behind it?
“ He was charming. Good-looking. Very self-confident.” Her words sounded reticent.
Just where is this conversation going?

“
I see.” Sabrina looked at the wall opposite as if it had some interesting feature only she could see. “And do they already know who killed him?”

“
Not that I know of. But I'm not in the confidence of the police.” Carlina covered her cell phone with her hand. If Stefano should send another message now, it would say she had just gotten a message from “Aaawful Commissario”. Garini had once made her program his name in a way that would make it come up first, so she could call him in a second if she needed him.

Sabrina laughed, a silver laugh that sounded light and fresh. “Of course they don't share news with civilians, I know that. I just wondered if maybe you noticed what they focus on, you know, what questions they ask. You might have realized that when the police interviewed you.” She started to turn her shining ring on her hand. “I'm an avid reader of mysteries, and when Fabrizio told me about it, I wondered if you could tell me some details.” She gave Carlina a charming smile. “You'll think my interest is completely gruesome.”

“That's fine.” Carlina couldn't help herself, she had to smile back. “I'm also curious myself. But so far, it doesn't look as if they've made much progress.” The minute the words left her mouth, she felt disloyal to Garini. “Though they're hunting high and low.”

“
This Commissario, the one who's responsible for the case, is he good?”

“
Very.” Carlina nodded.

“
Really?” Sabrina bent forward. “How do you know?”

Carlina swallowed. “We're . . . friends.”

One finely arched eyebrow went up. “Friends?”

Carlina held her gaze. “Yes.”

“I see.” Sabrina dropped her gaze and turned her ring once again. “And do you think he will manage to solve this case?”

“
I should think so. He's very intelligent.” She looked at Sabrina. Something in her face made her add, “And incorruptible.”

“
That's great.” It sounded like a mechanical reply. Sabrina looked over the table.“Oh, that's Barbara, giving me a sign. I have to go.” She jumped up.

Carlina followed her. “I've got to go, too. Thank you for organizing the fair.” She bent forward and air-kissed Sabrina's cheeks. “Buona notte. I'll see you at the fair.”

When Carlina came out of the building, the wind attacked her like a living thing. It jumped into her face and pulled at her hair, howling with anger. Carlina shivered and snuggled deeper into her coat. What a night. At least it had stopped raining.

A shadow detached from the building opposite the street and went up to her. “You'd better take this.” Garini held out a thick scarf.

“Is that yours?” Her heart started to beat faster.
This is not a date. It's part of a police investigation, so stop behaving like a drooling sixteen-year-old.

“
Yes, it's my scarf, but I brought it for you.”

Carlina laughed, pretending to herself and to him that the words didn't touch something deep inside her. “Thanks, but we won't be out long, so I don't think I'll need it.”

In the uncertain light of the street-lamp, she couldn't make out the expression on his face.

“
I thought I'd walk you home.” The wind tore at his hair.

“
You're kidding.”

He looked at her in that inimitable way he had, without moving a muscle, without giving her the slightest chance to guess what he was thinking. “Would you hate it?”

The wind whipped up her hair and twirled it around her face. She looked at him, and suddenly, she knew that she would walk anywhere with him, gale or no gale. “I . . . .” She swallowed. “No.”

He lifted the scarf as if he had done it a thousand times already, brushed back her hair, bound the scarf loosely around her head, so it covered her ears, then looped it around her neck. The howling diminished. What a difference it made if your head was covered. Or maybe the wind had stopped altogether. She couldn't tell.

“Better?” His voice was soft, his face close to hers.

His hands bound the scarf beneath her chin, and for an instant, she could smell leather and soap, before the wind blew his scent away.

She cleared her throat. “Yes. Thank you.”
Now. Tell him now.
“Stefano, I--” She lost her nerve. It sounded too stupid.

“
Tell me.” His voice was quiet. He stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets now, as if he had all the time in the world.

“
I didn't lie to you.” Her throat felt raw. “I know it sounds stupid, and I know you won't believe me, but I forgot about Emma. I really did.”

He didn't say anything. His gaze never left her face.

“It would make me miserable to lie to you.” She bit her lips. “Believe it or not.” The last came out too defiant, as if she was a teenager, unsure of her position in the world. She stared at her shoes, waiting for him to start questioning her, to probe deeper into her thoughts, into her family.

“
I believe you.”

Her head came up. Hope foamed through her as if it had shot through a geyser. “You do?”

“I do.” He took her arm and turned her downhill, toward the city.

She fell in step with him. “Why?”

He glanced at her. “Why do I believe you?”

“
Yes.”

He pushed a hand through his hair. “I don't know.” Another glance. “I shouldn't.” He shrugged.

“Why not?”

“
Because you're a suspect in a murder case. Because you had opportunity, motive, means. Because I know how fiercely protective you are of your family. Because of a thousand reasons.”

His steps lengthened, and Carlina hurried to keep up with him. “But still you do believe me?”

“Yes.” He didn't elaborate. He didn't sound as if it made him happy. He said it as if it was his karma, something inevitable, something out of his control, something you had to accept, even if it made no sense.

“
I'm glad.”

They had come into the light of another street-lamp. He turned his head. A small smile sat in one corner of his mouth. “Well, that's at least one of us.”

She could have taken offense, but she knew why he said it. He was a man who didn't leave things to chance, a man who worked with instinct and hunches, but who never solely relied on them. A man who decided with care, who looked at things from all angles. And now, all of a sudden, he had come upon a blind spot within himself. He had come up to something he could not control, a conviction stronger than reason.

Yes, Carlina understood, and she knew what it meant to him to admit to this blind spot. She returned his smile, a bit lopsided, a bit ironic, but with deep understanding.

His smile deepened. He bent forward.

Carlina's heart-beat accelerated until she could feel it beating inside her throat. She leaned toward him.

A car turned into the street and revved up the motor behind them.

His head came up with a sharp move. One quick step, and he had placed himself between the houses and herself, so she was protected from the side of the street.

The moment of intimacy was gone.

The car passed by without slowing down.

He slipped his arm around her shoulders and resumed walking, his face closed.

Carlina caught her breath. She loved the way he pulled her to his side. It felt so safe, so secure. She had never noticed how well they fit together. Well, she had never had a chance. It was the first time he had placed his arm around her. “What was that all about?”

“Hmm?” He turned his head and looked at her as if she had spoken in another language.

“
Were you afraid of that car?”

“
Sort of.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“A bad dream.” His face remained immobile.

“
A bad dream?” Her eyebrows climbed up. “What about?”