Charmer's Death (Temptation in Florence Book 2) (6 page)

“Oh.” Garini shifted the car into a lower gear as they mounted a hill. “Do you want me to do that?”

Carlina sighed. “I'm not sure. On the one hand, the mere idea of him trailing someone happily and totally unprofessionally makes my blood run cold. On the other hand, he's very lonely.”

“He is?”

“
Yes.” Carlina pressed her lips together. “I often wish I could offer him a job myself, but an old man like him in a lingerie-store . . . he would scare my customers away.”

“
I can imagine.” There was a smile in his voice.

“
However, at night, when I come home, he often waits for me, and he wants to know every single detail of my day, he's so bored. Also, it's the first Christmas without his brother and his wife, and that's so difficult. I'm sorry for him.”

Garini glanced at her once again but didn't reply. “We're here.” He parked the car beneath a gnarled olive tree, its arms bare of leaves, and got out.

Carlina followed him, shivering in the cold wind. “Where are we?” She looked around. The building in front of her looked like a barn, but the door had been replaced by huge glass panes, and golden light spilled out, welcoming her in.

“
The restaurant is called Da Marco. Marco once helped me in one of my cases.” He smiled at her. “He only started up last week, so it's still a bit of a secret.”

She had to return his smile in spite of her misgivings. “Secret enough not to be known to my family, you mean?”

He grinned. “I didn't say that.”

She couldn't suppress an answering smile. “At least admit you had it on your mind.”

“Of course I had.” He shrugged. “After all, you once told me your mother had six brothers and sisters and just as many cousins, and now I expect members of your family to pop up at every corner of Florence.”

“
What a dreadful thought.” She laughed.

He grinned and held open the door for her to go through.

She ordered potato soup because she was too exhausted to chew, and because she needed something warm and comforting and easy. It came with thick slabs of fragrant bread, sweet butter, and tasted so aromatic, she licked off her spoon with a contented smile. “No wonder it's called vellutata di patata, velvet of potatoes. It's like a caress, only inside.” She lifted her head and met his gaze straight on. “Now tell me your worst. Do I gather that you need to trace fifty-four nylons all over Florence and the one who can't show hers is the murderer?”

He frowned. “Why fifty-four?”

“Because I sold fifty-four pairs today.”

Stefano closed his eyes for an instant, his face set like a mask.

“I'm sorry.” Carlina wanted to wipe away the expression on his face. “In fact, there are less because some women bought two. I could--”

“
Did you sell them early or late in the day?”

She stopped short. “What? Oh, late. It was such a strange day. I opened the store with so much expectation; Ricciarda and I even had a bet going on how many pairs we would sell, and then . . . nothing.” She shook her head. “I felt dreadful. All those negotiations, the money spent on the advertising . . . and the effect was zero. At ten to twelve, when we had sold only one pair, I decided to go for an early lunch. I still had to run to the bank before they closed.“ She frowned. “What? Why do you look like this?”

His face was wooden. “Go on. What happened then?”

She had the feeling that every sentence was drawing a noose tighter around her neck, that he didn't want her to go on, on the contrary, but she had to continue, as if destiny was pulling her forward, toward a goal she did not want to reach. “Well, when I came back, everything was still dead. Ricciarda had sold only one slip from the special offers. It was disheartening. So I sent Ricciarda out for lunch and started to clean the--”

“When was that?”

“
What?”

“
When did you come back from lunch?”

Carlina frowned. “Around one, I believe. I treated myself to a nice lunch at the Trattoria delle Stelle, to make up for my lost hopes.”

“And when did Ricciarda come back?” He was in true interrogation mode now; he had even taken out a notebook and scribbled down unreadable things.

“
Around two, I believe. No, maybe earlier, say, half past one.” Carlina shrugged. “I can't tell; I don't clock her time. She's a great employee, reliable, and willing to work longer if there are customers; that's why I don't control her times that much.”

His light eyes scanned her face. “And how many nylons had you sold by the time Ricciarda returned?”

“None.”

“
None?” He almost shouted the word.

Carlina bit her lips. “No. It was crazy, but the customers only started to come by three. I remember because we were discussing at a quarter to three if I should send Ricciarda home early, and we said we would wait until three, and then, as if they'd heard that we were discussing it, they came in hordes.”

He pressed his lips together. “So until a quarter to three, you had only sold one single pair of these brand-new nylons that you would recognize everywhere and could not ever possibly mistake for any other brand?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Did anybody else have access to these nylons?”

“
No.”

“
You gave no one a pair before today?”

“
Well, yes, now that you mention it, I did. Of course I am wearing a pair, and I gave some to Ricciarda, so we could show them off today, and then I gave one to Annalisa, but that's all.”

“
What about the woman who bought them in the morning? Do you know her?”

“
No.” Carlina shook her head. The expression on his face frightened her. “She paid in cash, so I can't even look up her name.”

Garini looked like thunder impersonated.

“Why is that so very bad?”

“
Because,” he reached out and gripped her shoulder in a vice-like grip. “The victim was strangled with your special nylons between twelve and one forty today.”

“
Oh, Madonna.” She could feel the blood draining from her face, leaving her with an unreal feeling, as if she was floating.

He shook her. “Pull yourself together, Carlina. You can't faint now.”

She stared at him, her eyes wide. “Are you telling me I'm a suspect?”

“
Technically, you are.” His hand was still hard on her shoulder, but she could feel the warmth from his fingers through her sweater.

“
But?”

“
But nothing.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “I'll try to get out of this case tomorrow.”

She felt cold. “I don't think that's necessary, Garini. After all, if I have no connection to the victim, it's ridiculous to suppose that I'm a suspect.”

“You know him.”

Her eyes widened. “What? I've heard nothing. It's impossible.” Then she remembered that she had switched off her phone during the afternoon rush. “Who is it?” Her mouth was dry.

He clenched his teeth. “It's Trevor Accanto.”

“
No.” Her voice didn't obey her. Her lips formed the words, but no sound came out. “I don't believe it.” The lights of the restaurant receded. She saw Trevor's handsome face, his laughing, blue eyes in front of her inner eyes. He had been so alive this morning.

Garini was watching her like a hawk, his hand firmly keeping her in this universe. “I came to see you at Temptation because I saw the receipt in his wallet. When we searched his hotel room, we found several bags from Temptation.”

“Not Trevor.” She couldn't take it in.

“
How well did you know him?” Garini sounded cool and official.

“
I--” Something slid into her consciousness. Annalisa! She shook off his hand and jumped up. “I have to go.”

With one smooth move, Stefano stood at her side. “Wait. What's up?”

“I'm sorry, but I really can't stay.”

He took both her arms. “Carlina, please. Could you stay and explain first what's going on?”

Impatience shook her. “I need to go. Really.”

“
Why?” His light eyes scanned her face.

“
Because . . .” Carlina broke off. Should she tell Garini that Annalisa had been Trevor's last lover? Why put her under suspicion? Maybe he would not find out. They had only been going out for five days. Telling him would put her into danger. It was needless and dangerous.
Nonsense,
a voice inside her replied.
You know Garini looks deeper than the surface. He doesn't go for the obvious solution, just because it's easy. If he did that, he would have arrested you last October when you were his best suspect.

His eyebrows lifted, and he loosened his hold on her. A wry smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Are you aware that your face betrays every single thought?”

Carlina squared her shoulders. “So what did I think?”

“
You know something relevant, and you're afraid of telling me, probably because, as usual, you wish to protect someone from your family.”

Her jaw dropped. “Right. Do I still need to go into details?”

“Please.”

She couldn't help it. If he looked at her like that, and asked for her help, instead of commanding or threatening, she had no stand. Carlina dropped back onto her seat. “Trevor was a most charming man.” She frowned as she looked at his immobile face. “You know, with you, it's the exact opposite.”

“You mean I'm not charming?”

“
I mean I can never tell what you think. Never.”

He smiled. “You'll learn.”

Something warm sizzled through Carlina. “It would take decades.”

Their eyes locked. “We've got time, don't we?”

The moment hung between them, like a glass ball, fragile; warm light reflecting in a rainbow of colors, until Carlina realized she had stopped breathing. With an effort, she returned to the topic at hand. “I got to know Trevor some years ago. Four, maybe five. He's a rich American who comes to Florence every Christmas. And every year, he takes up a new lover.”

Garini nodded. “I've heard about that. It's an interesting habit.” His voice was ironic. “Do you know how he achieved that?”

Carlina shook her head. “I've no idea. A combination of charm, money, attraction, whatever.” She shrugged.

“
And how did he get rid of them?”

Of course Garini got to the point with his swift speed that used to terrify her. Funny, she wasn't terrified anymore. She wanted to stop and analyze her change of feelings, but she had to reply first. “He told me it was all a matter of preparation, of telling them from the start it was nothing but a fling.”

“Hmm.” Stefano watched her. “And how did you get to know him?”

Carlina smiled. “It's obvious, isn't it? He was my best customer, and we chatted for a bit whenever he came into the store.”

“I see.” He frowned into space, then focused his gaze again onto her. “Now tell me which Mantoni family member is involved.”

She flushed and stared to play with her spoon. The warm light reflected in the shiny surface as she turned it in her hands. “It's Annalisa. She . . . she started an affair with him about a week ago.”

Again, his feelings didn't show, if you didn't count a certain tightening in his jaw. “So she was the beautiful redhead Peter mentioned.”

“
Who's Peter?”

“
Peter Grant is the manager of the Garibaldi hotel.” He shook his head. “Don't tell me Annalisa accepted her lover's terms.”

She looked up with one swift move of the head. “How do you know she didn't?”

“I had the pleasure of meeting her at the last investigation that involved your family. She's quite--” he broke off, then continued as if he had wanted to use a different word, “willful.”

Carlina bit her lips. “She wanted to convince Trevor to marry her.”

“Had she proposed to him yet?”

She flashed him an angry look. “Stefano! It's not a joke!”

“I'm not joking.” He shook his head. “I just happen to know Annalisa.”

She sighed. “Apparently, she had mentioned the subject, and he had not reacted the way she wanted him to.”

“I'm not surprised.”

His words were so low, she almost missed them. “Very funny.” Carlina pressed her lips together. “But to go ahead and kill him is not the right way to achieve that particular aim. You can't marry a corpse.”

“True.” He put his head to one side. “But what about jealousy? Maybe she didn't want him to find a replacement.”

Carlina shook her head. “He usually stuck with one woman during his vacation. If she had killed him next year, I might have understood. But not this year, not while she still stood a chance to marry him. It doesn't make sense.” She bent forward. “Don't you see? Annalisa was the lucky one this year; she had no reason to kill him.”