temptation in florence 03 - bankers death (17 page)

“To get out the bugs. They will drown.”

“But we have three sacks of grain!” Fabbiola said. “How on earth can we wash all of it?”

“In the bathroom.” Rafaele sounded like an authority on the treatment of bugs. “Then you have to kill the ones who try to swim away.”

Fabbiola's eyes bulged. “What?”

Rafaele didn't seem to notice her reaction. He seemed to be busy grappling with an internal thought and stared into space like someone who was trying to remember something important.

“I guess you'd better throw it all away.” Carlina said.

Fabbiola rounded on her. “Have you gone crazy, Carlina? All over the world, people are starving, and you say you want to throw away perfect grain?”

“It's not perfect,” Carlina pointed out. “It's got bugs.”

Fabbiola looked crestfallen. “It's terrible.”

Simonetta, who had tried to get a word in edgewise without success, straightened. “I can't scream on command.”

“Can't you?” Rafaele eyed her in surprise. “I thought you were an opera singer. Isn't that what you do?”

“We'll have to get Maria's help,” Fabbiola made a decisive motion with her hands. “Then we'll wash the corn together.”

Rafaele managed to concentrate on the matter at hand again and nodded in his slow way. “Now I remember. You need to dry it afterward. After the bath, I mean.”

“The grain?” Fabbiola stared at him.

“Of course. What else? On large sheets.” Rafaele nodded again.

“Maybe we should take black sheets,” Carlina couldn't prevent herself from saying. “Then, if the bugs come back, at least you won't notice them anymore. If they keep still, that is.”

“Ugh.” Simonetta made a face. “That's disgusting.”

“You need to turn the grain from time to time,” Rafaele volunteered. “To avoid mold.”

“It sounds like a full-time job,” Ernesto looked at the sacks of grain with dawning respect.

“Mama, I know that people are starving, but don't you think it's better to get rid of all of it, now, at once?” Carlina looked at her mother. “You don't want vermin in the house.”

Fabbiola straightened her back. “I refuse to do something as immoral as throwing away good food.” She bent over the other sacks. “Besides, we don't yet know if the bugs are everywhere or if just one sack is affected.”

A hand grabbed Carlina's and pulled her to the side.

She looked up in surprise.

Garini made a motion with his head toward the door.

She smiled and followed him outside.

He took her by the shoulders. “Your family is not normal.”

“I know.” She grinned. “Wasn't it hilarious? I thought I would drop dead when Simonetta said “bugs”. I had been expecting something unspeakable.”

“I noticed you were amused.” His voice was dry. “Promise me one thing.”

Her heartbeat accelerated. “Yes?”

“Don't try to hide the truth from me anymore.”

She opened her mouth, but before she could reply, Fabbiola rushed through the door.

Carlina felt like stamping her foot.

“Here you are, Commissario!” She placed her hands onto her hips. “You haven't answered my question. Why did you want to talk to Carlina?”

“We were establishing some facts.”

Fabbiola frowned. “Facts? What do you mean?”

“Well, for example we found out that you have nobody in the family who specializes in paid murder.”

Fabbiola's bosom lifted in outrage. “Really, I have to say--”

Carlina felt her patience wearing thin. She was sick and tired of her mother interrupting them all the time. She was old enough to manage her own life, and she didn't want to lose Garini for good. “I have to tell you one more thing, Commissario.” She knew he would notice that she was addressing him with his title. “My mother decided to prepare a trap for the murderer.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Is that so, Mrs. Mantoni-Ashley?”

Fabbiola lifted her chin. “Yes. And I won't tell you what it is. It's my secret.”

“You're crazy, Mama.” Carlina shook her head. “This is not a game, you know. It can be very dangerous.”

“I am aware of that.” Fabbiola said with dignity. “But obviously, someone here has to do something, if the police are not getting anywhere. And my trap will snap shut. Soon.”

Garini bottled up his anger. “Don't mess with murderers, Signora Mantoni-Ashley. It's extremely dangerous, and you might get yourself killed.”

Fabbiola snapped her fingers. “Pooh.”

II

Carlina was late for work. She accelerated the speed of her Vespa and turned around the corner, one eye on the newspaper booth. Ever since her almost-accident, the newspaperman with the mustache waved at her whenever she zipped past, and she waved back. It gave her a nice feeling, a feeling of being at home and welcome. Today, the booth was open, but he was nowhere to be seen.

She was almost past the booth when she spotted a slight woman at the side, doubling over as if in pain, clutching her midriff. She seemed familiar. Carlina swung the Vespa around and slid to a stop next to her. “Maria!” Carlina jumped down. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Maria shook her head. Her light-brown curls tumbled forward and hid her face. “Oh, Carlina.” Her voice was breathless. “I'm so glad you're here.”

Carlina gave her a hug.
How tiny she is; I can feel the bones of her shoulders.
“Can I help you?”

“Just a moment.” Maria took a deep breath. “Just a moment.” She straightened with care and looked at Carlina with tear-filled eyes. “I . . .” she gulped. “I found a . . . a body.”

“What?” Carlina's mouth dropped. “When? Where? How?”

“It's . . . it's the newspaperman.” A sob racked Maria's body. “I wanted to buy the “Quotidiano” for my father, and . . . and at first, I thought he wasn't there. I turned away, but then, a headline caught my eye, and I bent closer to read it, when inside the booth, suddenly, I saw--” She interrupted herself and shuddered. “I saw a knee. That's all I could see. I . . . I stood on tiptoe.” She huddled against Carlina. “I think he's dead.”

“You think he's dead?” Carlina blinked. “Do you mean you didn't check?”

“I . . . oh, no.” Maria's teeth chattered. “I felt so sick, and I turned to the side, all dizzy, and then you came, so--”

“Sit down.” Carlina guided her to the curb. “Just sit down here and don't move.” She waited until Maria had obeyed, then ran to the newspaper booth, her hands clenched into fists. She looked over the partition into the booth, and sure enough, a huddled form lay on the floor.
Maybe he had a heart-attack.
She raced around the booth, to the back, and looked for the entrance. Nothing. Every centimeter of the back wall was covered with newspapers, and she couldn't make out how to get into the booth. Finally, she spotted a handle, half-hidden beneath a glossy magazine.
There it is!
She turned the handle and rushed inside, then bent down next to the dark-haired man. It was dark inside the booth, but she could see that it was her friend with the mustache all right. Her throat tightened. She had no idea what to do next. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? She'd only done that once, for her driving exam, years ago. She felt sick. It smelled of freshly printed newspapers and something else, something she couldn't quite place. It was . . . her brain connected the smell to a word the second her gaze fell onto his chest.

Blood. The white t-shirt of the man had a dark patch in the middle, wet. Her heart contracted. She bent forward and placed her cheek close to his mouth. Was he still breathing? She wasn't sure.
Oh, Madonna
. She touched his face. It was cool.

Once again, she brought her cheek to his mouth. Would she feel his breath?

“Alana.” It was a mere whisper.

“What?” The word came out as a croak. What had he said?

His lashes fluttered. A shudder went through him. He sighed and seemed to shrink.

A feeling of panic grabbed Carlina by the throat. With trembling fingers, she fished out her phone and speed-dialed Garini. As soon as he had picked up, she said, “Stefano, come immediately to the newspaper booth on the corner of the Borgo de' Greci and Via dei Leoni. A man was stabbed, and I'm not sure if he's dead. Bring an ambulance. Hurry.”

She hung up again and grabbed the man's flaccid hand, pressing it hard. Maybe he would feel that he was not alone. Where was Maria? Was she still sitting on the curb, too shocked to move? She didn't dare to leave the man alone.

The door behind her opened.

Carlina turned around. “Is that you, Maria?”

“No, it's me, Simonetta.” With Simonetta's entry, the small space seemed to shrink. “I saw Maria sitting on the curb. She told me something happened to the newspaperman. Can I help?”

“He was stabbed, I think.” Carlina's voice wobbled. “I don't know what to do. I mean, he's . . . I'm not sure if he's dead.”

“Let me see.” Simonetta knelt next to the victim and felt for his pulse. “I . . . I don't feel anything.” She gave Carlina an uncertain look.

“Do you think mouth-to-mouth resuscitation would help?” Carlina swallowed.

“With a knife wound in his chest?” Simonetta shook her head. “Not likely.” She shuddered. “We have to call the police - and the ambulance.”

“I already did so.”

“Good.” Simonetta looked at the lifeless man on the ground. “This is terrible.”

“Yes.” Carlina felt cold. “He was nice, you know. He always waved at me when I drove past.”

Simonetta didn't reply.

“What is Maria doing?”

“Nothing much. She's sitting on the curb and hugging herself.”

“I see.”

“Do you want to go outside and talk to her?”

Carlina hesitated. For some reason, she felt she had to hold on to the hand of the newspaperman. “No.”

Before Simonetta could reply, they heard the wail of an ambulance, coming closer until it seemed to be right on top of them. It stopped, and a second later came the sound of running feet. The door crashed to the side. “Out of the way.” Two men filled the doorway.

Carlina grabbed Simonetta and went outside.
Maybe Garini has come.
She wanted to be in his arms again.
You won't be in his arms,
a sneering voice inside her said.
Don't forget that he put your relationship on hold.
She found she was shaking.

Garini's bike roared around the corner and slid to a stop right next to her. He gave her the once over, seemed satisfied with what he saw, turned on his heels, and ran to the booth.

Carlina dropped onto the curb next to Maria. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Maria's lips looked white. Her fists were clenched, and she was shaking so hard that it was visible. “Is he . . . is he dead?”

“I don't know.” Carlina dropped her head into her hands. “I hope not.”

Simonetta sat down on the other side of Maria. “Gosh, what a nasty thing. How did it happen, Maria?”

“I don't know.” Maria shook her head. “I . . . I just saw his knee, and that shocked me so much that I felt faint, and the next second, Carlina was already there. I don't know anything!”

“At what time was that, approximately?” Garini's voice came from behind them.

They all whipped around.

Maria flinched. “I . . . I really have no idea. I didn't check the time.”

“It must have been shortly before ten,” Carlina said. “I remember I was thinking that I'd be late for work, and that was just before I saw Maria.”

His light gaze assessed her. “Why did you stop?”

“She looked ill. She was doubling over. When I asked her if she was all right, she told me she had found the newspaperman on the floor, and I went to check up on him.”

Garini narrowed his eyes. “Why didn't you call an ambulance, Maria?”

Maria looked at him with wide-opened eyes. “I didn't think of it. I was too shocked to think. I . . . I'm sorry if I made a mistake. This kind of thing has never happened to me before, and I . . . I just didn't know what to do. I felt so sick, so . . . wobbly,” her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “I only wanted to get away.”

Simonetta placed her arm around Maria's shoulder. “Shhh. That's fine.” She gave Garini a malevolent glance. “Don't reproach her.”

“I'm not reproaching her.” Garini's voice was cool. “I'm asking questions.” He turned to Carlina. “What happened next?”

“I went inside. At first, I thought, he'd had a heart attack, and I thought I could try mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, though I've never really done that before, but then I . . . I noticed the smell.”

“What smell?”

“From the blood.” Carlina swallowed. “I was lost; didn't know what to do to help him. I tried to find out if he was still alive, but I wasn't sure. At one moment, I thought he was saying something.”

They all turned on her as if electrified. “He was saying something?” Simonetta asked. “Are you sure? What did he say? Did he give us a clue about his murderer?”

“I'm not sure if I understood him correctly. He said Alana or Alanna or something.”

“Nirvana?” Maria repeated with a puzzled frown.

Carlina shrugged. “Maybe Nirvana. I don't know. As I said, it was a mere whisper.” She looked up at Garini. “I called you then.”

“I got your call at eleven minutes past ten.”

She nodded and looked toward the newspaper booth. “Are they still . . . busy in there?”

Garini shook his head. “No. I'm sorry. He's dead.”

A strange feeling gripped Carlina. For an instant, she felt as if she was floating. The world started to spin in circles around her.

His hand came down on her shoulder, firm, warm.

He shook her, gently. “Don't faint, Carlina.”

She drew herself up. “I'm not fainting.”

“Good.” His voice was ironic, but his gaze rested on her with tenderness.

“I arrived shortly afterward,” Simonetta said. “I saw Maria sitting on the curb like a mashed potato and asked her what was the matter. When she told me, I went inside, but I couldn't do anything, either.”

“Did any of you notice something unusual in the booth?”

They all shook their heads.

“It was dark inside,” Carlina answered. “A tiny space, crammed full with piles of newspapers and magazines and boxes and stuff.”

“Nothing unusual?”