temptation in florence 04 - expected in death (18 page)

He closed his eyes and reviewed all the facts again in his mind. Everything pointed to Fabbiola. But there had to be a crack somewhere. He just had to find it. He had to. His instinct led him to Ugo, Olga's son. Inheriting a million was powerful stuff. And it wasn't as if Olga had been an easy mother to deal with. If Carlina was right and he had just fallen in love, this might have been the trigger. No doubt Olga liked her son to be a
mammone
, a boy who spent his life underneath his mother's heel, never moving out, never starting a family of his own. Dammit, Carlina had been right. She had given him an important clue. But still, he would prefer her not to meddle. She was underestimating the danger. He pressed his lips together, remembering their fight. How could she accuse him of being a macho, when he only wanted to keep her safe? After all, hunting criminals was his job. She wasn't trained for it. If he had been a pilot in dire need of help, she wouldn't have walked in and wouldn't have tried to fly the plane herself without the slightest idea of what to do. Why didn't she get it into her head that being an investigating officer wasn't a sort of hobby anybody could take on? He wasn't overprotective or trying to hedge her in. He was just trying to save her from the consequences of sheer lunacy. Why didn't she see that?

He shook his head and forced himself to keep on reading. Maybe in the middle of all this nonsensical stuff, he would find the one thing that would solve the riddle. He just had to keep on looking. He just needed one little inspiration. Was that too much to ask?

But by eleven o'clock at night, he knew he had to stop without having glimpsed anything that looked promising. His eyes were gritty, and he realized that he had repeatedly turned the pages without taking in a single word.
Damn.
Cervi would not leave him working on Olga's case much longer. He expected him to close the file and only left him at peace because he thought that he was wrapping up all the paperwork involved in arresting a murderer. But he couldn't go on; he had to rest, just a few hours.
Time to go home.
He froze in the middle of the movement. Home, at the moment, was Carlina's apartment. He didn't feel that he was welcome, not after the fight they'd had.
Damn.
It took him ten minutes to compose a text message that would not sound as if he had given up on their love but would still let her know that he wasn't coming home. “Working late. Don't wait for me. Miss you.” Then he went to his own apartment, dragging his feet as he went upstairs, but when he entered his bedroom, he had to hold his breath. The wet ceiling and mattress had started to smell, and the musty atmosphere made him gag. Besides, there were new wet patches on the ceiling.
No way.

He turned on his heels and booked himself into the hotel next door, feeling like an outcast in his own home town.

III

At six the next morning, he was back in the office and went through all the files left on his desk, but it was useless. Not a single clue ignited his tired brain. By nine o'clock, he was exhausted and welcomed even a call from Gloria with relief.

“A lady is asking to see you,” Gloria said with her usual bored voice.

“What about?”

“The murder of Olga Ottima.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“No.”

Garini suppressed a sigh. “All right. Send her up.”

Gloria made a strange sound in her throat. “I can't send her up. She asked you to go to her place. Like royalty, she was.”

“She asked me to come to her place? Did you note the address?”

“She said you knew it. She said to tell you that Aunt Violetta is asking for a visit.”

Garini suppressed a groan.
Oh, no. Another member of the Mantoni family on a mission to pressure him.
Then he sat up straighter. Maybe not. He really had to take the personal angle away from this investigation if he was to judge it clearly. Aunt Violetta had threatened Olga during her birthday party. She had said that she would find a “solution” for Uncle Teo. Was it possible that she had acted on it? Garini frowned. From all he had seen so far, Omar would do anything that Aunt Violetta asked of him. If Omar had indeed killed Olga, then Violetta was now in great difficulty. Her adored Fabbiola in prison, and her adored son the culprit. “I'm going to see her immediately.” He hung up and jumped on his motorbike to go to Aunt Violetta's villa, not taking Piedro on purpose. Let Cervi throw a fit; he didn't care. Who knew what Aunt Violetta was going to reveal? Maybe this was the light at the end of the tunnel.

Omar opened the door for him and inclined his head like a royal butler. The image of a lethal piece of beautiful wood came back to Garini as he looked at the dark face that gave nothing away. When Omar turned to close the door, Garini smelled a whiff of expensive aftershave. It reminded him that Omar may look and act like a servant but was also the beloved son and heir of Aunt Violetta.

Garini followed Omar into a living room at the back of the villa that looked strangely empty. But then he recalled that the wheelchair took up a lot of space which was probably the reason for the wide spacing of the furniture. Through the open French doors came sunlight and right in the middle of one broad shaft of sunlight sat Aunt Violetta on a sofa covered with faded brocade. Today, she was draped in a wide dress all in black that consisted of so many layers that her figure was camouflaged to the point of making him look for the person underneath all that fabric.

“Commissario!”
It sounded like a bellow.

Garini inclined his head.
“Signora.”
He couldn't very well call her Aunt Violetta. By the daggers in her eyes, he could tell that this wasn't going to be a friendly call.

Omar sat on the sofa next to Aunt Violetta and leaned back, stretching out his long legs. However, for some reason he didn't look relaxed.

Violetta pressed her lips together and bent forward. “I have asked you to come to me because I want to know how you could have been so incredibly stupid to arrest Fabbiola for murder.”

Garini looked at her for a long moment. He could either take the official route and refuse to impart any information. Or he could spread out all the facts and see where it would take him. The latter approach was more likely to get her to talk – and to get her to let slip any clue he might not yet have heard about.

“Let me present the case to you by just listing the facts,” he said. “And then, you may judge for yourself.”

“Hold on.” She turned to Omar with a question on her face. He nodded, got up and came back with a hearing device that he handed to her. She fitted it onto her ear and fiddled with the regulator, then bent forward, her face serious. “Go ahead.”

“Olga Ottima upset everybody in the Mantoni family when she started to go out with Uncle Teo. First, because of the history with Fabbiola during their last year at school. Second, because she was an agent for the
Finanza
and collected information. Third, because she made poisonous remarks to each and every member of the family whenever Uncle Teo wasn't near. The family was in an uproar because of her.”

Aunt Violetta listened with an intensity that would have been flattering under any other circumstances. “Did she upset Carlina?”

For an instant, Carlina's angry face flashed through his mind as she had paced through the apartment after her confrontation with Olga. He could still hear her voice saying 'I'm going to kill Olga with my bare hands'. “Oh, yes, she did.”

Aunt Violetta pressed her wrinkled lips into one thin line. “Then it was bad. Go on.”

“On Monday morning, Fabbiola found a letter in her box. It was delivered by hand, and it asked her to come to the Tower San Niccolò by five o'clock. It also told her to eat the letter upon receipt.”

Aunt Violetta snorted in disgust.

“Fabbiola didn't eat it; she burned it. And she kept the appointment, because she believed that someone from her knitting circle wrote it. According to her, she went up the tower, didn't see anything or anybody as she was facing the wrong direction, then heard a shout, ran over to the other side of the tower, looked down, and saw Olga lying on the ground. She recognized her by her colorful raincoat. She got scared at that point, ran away, and told us she had been at home the whole day. However, later she was identified by a shop owner down the street, and finally, she told us the whole story as I'm telling it to you now.”

Aunt Violetta's mouth was working. “What a rigmarole.”

“When Olga was taken to the mortuary, they discovered a knitting needle inside her. It was the same size as one that Fabbiola was missing.”

“Che cazzo.”

Garini pretended he had not heard the swear word.
At least she doesn't tell me anymore that I'm a fool.
“Based on that evidence, I was ordered to arrest her.”

Aunt Violetta's milky eyes focused on him. “And do you believe that she did it?”

Garini slowly shook his head. “No. But she had the motive, the weapon, and she was on the spot. It's difficult to get her out of this one unless we can find an even better match for that murder.”

“Ah.” For an instant, the old woman stared into space. Then she asked, “Why do you think she didn't do it?”

“It's too organized. The . . . the psychology, for want of a better word, doesn't fit. Or maybe we'd better call the structure. The structure of the murder doesn't fit Fabbiola's character.”

Aunt Violetta nodded to herself. “I wasn't mistaken in my first impression of you. You're intelligent. Maybe a bit too crusty, but clever.”

Too crusty, my foot.
Garini bent forward. “Actually, I'm glad you contacted me. I'm still trying to go back to the roots, back to what happened thirty years ago. To me, it seems incredible that Olga should harbor a grudge for such a long time. It's not normal.”

Aunt Violetta slowly shook her head. “You can't judge Olga by normal standards. She was crazy. I mean pathological.” Her gaze sharpened as she took in his skeptical expression. “Nuttier than a nutcake, if you want it in other words.”

Garini frowned. “She didn't seem like it.”

“That's why she was so dangerous. One didn't notice at first.” Aunt Violetta stared into space. “I once talked to Nico.”

“Nico de Niro, Olga's boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Aunt Violetta nodded. “I knew his mother and ran into him at her house. I took him to the side and questioned him.”

I can well imagine that.
“What did he say?”

“He said he was afraid of Olga.”

“Afraid of her?”

“Yes. She smothered him, wanted everything. He didn't have room to breathe. So he tried to finish the relationship three months before that dance night with Fabbiola.” A wheezing cough shook her body, then subsided. “But Olga would have none of it. She threatened to kill herself. He gave in and promised to stay with her. But when the weeks passed, he felt more and more under pressure. He couldn't call his soul his own anymore, he said. Then he realized that Fabbiola was interested in him. He knew that Fabbiola was strong and assertive, and he figured that she might be a good match to put against Olga. Besides, with school being over, they would not be forced to see each other every day, so he invited Fabbiola to the dance.”

“You mean he used her like a . . . a pawn sacrifice?”

“Exactly.” Aunt Violetta nodded. “But when Olga came to the dance and boxed Fabbiola to the ground, he realized that he had gotten in deeper than he could handle. So he decided to cut his losses and left town.”

Garini frowned. “Fabbiola said that Nico's mother always accused her of taking away her son. That doesn't fit to your story.”

Aunt Violetta lifted a withered eyebrow. “His mother had the same IQ as a flower. She never saw beyond her nose. Besides, Olga always made a point of being charming when she was around.”

Garini nodded. He had seen that side of Olga in action. “Are you still in touch with Nico's mother?”

“She died of cancer, ages ago. And before you ask: Nico and his wife are also dead. A car accident. I always wondered if Olga organized it, but of course, you can't prove anything. So you see, you can't ask them anything anymore.” She stared into space. “You know, even though Olga was a sick person, in some respect, she's right: It's during your youth that you set the course for the rest of your life. You choose your job and your partner for life – or at least, that's what you hope you do. Even if the marriage should break up, it will still be an important part of your life that you'll never forget. And it'll leave scars on your soul.”

Garini frowned. He had the impression that Violetta was speaking from experience.

“Don't you sometimes wonder what your life would have been like if only some little incident had been different?” Her old eyes pierced him, but she didn't wait for an answer. “One tiny detail, and everything careens off course. I bet Olga spent years mulling over that evening and its consequences for her life. She would not have seen that her own actions before the dance were to blame for Nico's flight from town.” She sighed and shook herself. “Anyway, it's as I said. You can't talk to Nico and his wife anymore.”

“Right.” Garini nodded. “So I've just got to believe everything you say.”

“You could do worse.” Aunt Violetta looked pleased with herself.

To wipe the smug expression from her face, Garini said, “By the way, where did
you
spend Monday?”

Aunt Violetta started to laugh until her whole body and the old sofa was shaking. “You're not seriously asking me if I climbed up to a Tower and heaved a woman over the top, did you? In my condition?”

“You might not have done it personally,” Garini replied with an even voice. “You threw Olga out during your birthday party. You said you would find a solution for the problem. And you have a son who's willing to do anything for you.”

The laughter stopped as if cut off.

Garini met Omar's gaze. Omar didn't bat an eyelid, but something in the atmosphere changed. So far, Aunt Violetta had orchestrated the meeting. Now, Garini was having the upper hand. “Where were you on Monday between four and five in the afternoon?”