Elegant Death Read online

  He led her to a small room where Asian music mingled with the titter of birds. Carlina looked around. No bird cages, so they were part of the music. The air smelled of lemon grass and patchouli or something else slightly exotic, and three square candles flickered on a wooden sideboard that also held a Buddha. In the middle of the room was a massage bed covered with white towels. The headrest had a hole in the middle. “Please lie down on your belly and make yourself comfortable,” Rambo said.

  No, no, she must stop thinking of him as Rambo, or she'd never relax. What did he say his name was? Patrizio. It didn't fit at all.

  Carlina used the small step provided to climb up on the bed and stretched out, trying to relax.

  He sprinkled some sort of warm oil onto her back, and the smell of lemon increased.

  Then his hands started to knead her shoulders, and she could feel her bones melting into the bed. This was so good.

  “Is that all right?” he asked. “Not too hard?”

  “No, this is perfect.” She could feel the tension falling away from her.

  “You're quite tense.” His voice was a bass rumble. “But we'll soon set that to rights.”

  “Thank you.” She gave herself over to enjoyment, until she remembered with a start she had a job to do. “I already feel better,” she said by way of starting a conversation. “I bet you've been doing this for some time.”

  “Seven years.”

  “Wow. And have you been working here all the time?”

  “Yup. All the time. I started as a trainee, and I'm now the head masseur here.”

  “It sounds as if I'm lucky I got you.”

  He chuckled. “Sometimes, you have to luck out in life. Would you move your right arm a bit to the side?”

  She did as instructed. “And do you like it?”

  “Love it. It's a great job, and I get to know many interesting people.”

  Yes! Thank you for the right keyword. “Did you also know signora Di Silva personally?”

  The hands checked for an instant. “I did.” He sounded sad.

  “I couldn't believe it when I heard about the murder.” Carlina had no trouble slipping into her chatty personality again. “I mean, she was an icon, wasn't she?”

  “She definitely was.”

  “But also a difficult person to work with, I've heard.”

  He chuckled again. “You might say so. I never found her difficult, though.”

  “So she was one of your personal clients?”

  “Yes. I did all of her massages.”

  Carlina wished she could roll over and see his face. After the initial check, his hands had continued to work on her back with routine, and his voice sounded troubled but neither frantic nor delighted. He sounded normal.

  “You must have known her very well.”

  “I wouldn't say that. She didn't talk much. I think she enjoyed the massages as a moment to drop out of the world.”

  “I can relate to that.”

  “Many people do. It's like an oasis in here.”

  “So when did you see her last?”

  “On Saturday morning.”

  “You mean the very day she was killed?” Carlina made sure she sounded shocked.

  “Yes.”

  “Gosh, I can't believe it. How dreadful you must have felt when you heard the news!”

  “It was a terrible shock. I couldn't believe it when I heard it on the radio, and I called the head of the sports studio to confirm it wasn't a hoax.”

  “It's awful, when you think about it. Here she was, thinking it would be just another weekend, and a few hours later, she was dead. Life is so unexpected, isn't it?”

  “It sure is sometimes.” His voice still sounded dark and rumbly, sort of soothing.

  “Some people get premonitions. Did she talk about her weekend and mention anything? Maybe she had a feeling about it?”

  “Nothing of the kind. She was just like usual.” The steady kneading of her muscles continued as he worked his way down her spine.

  Carlina suppressed a sigh. She wanted to get some juicy details, but all her questions seemed to lead nowhere. “It'll be different now she's gone. Did she take an active part in the running of the spa?”

  “Oh, no. She came here three times a week for her massage and her workout like clockwork. If she saw things she didn't like, she called the manager and told him about it, so we all took precious good care to have everything in tip-top shape, but otherwise, I don't think she did much. It was a bit of a private thing. She wanted to have the pool, the workout machines, and the massage handy, and she felt it would be good to offer something to the employees. They get a special rate. Apparently, a PR person once told her to do it.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Let me see, that was roughly nine years ago.”

  “So she saw it as her private place but the employees were allowed to use it?”

  “Yes. She came early in the morning. On Saturday, she was usually the only one up here. Once, a guy tried to attach himself to her and started to come early, too.”

  “What did she do?”

  He chuckled again. “Oh, she told him to his face she appreciated her privacy at the spa and didn't like people who tried to climb the company ladder by attaching themselves to the CEO like leeches. He vanished without a trace.”

  “Gosh, I can imagine. How humiliating.” But was it humiliating enough for murder? “Did that happen recently?”

  “No, that was ages ago. Two years or more.”

  A pity. “She could verbally cut you into pieces, I've heard.”

  “Yes, that's true. I always took good care not to talk to her unless she wanted to.”

  “And did she want to?”

  Patrizio had reached her lower back and was now working his way up again. “Not very often. She was a private kind of person.”

  “I see.” Carlina sighed. “Well, it's a pity. She was a beautiful woman.”

  “Very much so. And extremely fit. She took good care of her body.”

  Carlina hoped he wasn't comparing her body to Dorotea's right now.

  A soft gong went off. “We're done, Caroline. I hope you enjoyed the massage.”

  Carlina gathered the towel around her and sat up. “It was absolutely lovely, thank you so much.” She slid from the table. “I think I'll finish the relaxation with a visit to the sauna now. My husband will be waiting for me.” Ha. That sounds so cool.

  Patrizio was busy washing his hands in a little sink at the side. He grabbed another fluffy towel and turned, drying his hands. “Well, I hope to see you here again soon.”

  “Thank you. We'll stay for a few more days, and I hope I'll have the time to come back.” Carlina managed to find her slippers and shuffled through the door in the direction of the sauna. Stefano was waiting for her. “There you are. Did you have a good time?” He opened the door to the sauna for her, and a blast of hot air came out.

  “So-so.” Carlina smiled at him as she went through. “The massage was great, but –“ She turned to see if there was someone in the sauna or if she could go on talking. Her gaze fell onto the wooden bench, and her whole body stiffened. Then she screamed.

  Chapter 6

  “Gosh, Carlina, stop screeching and shut the door. It's getting cold.” The irritated voice of Aunt Violetta came from behind the steam. Veiled by the white air, she looked like a huge gnome on the lowest bench.

  “I really don't see why you scream blue murder when it's only us,” her mother's voice added from the highest bench. A sudden swirl of the steam revealed her henna-colored hair for a moment before hiding her again.

  “Well, that's a surprise.” Stefano's voice sounded mild.

  “What are you doing in this sauna?” Aunt Violetta demanded like royalty.

  “Why, much the same as you, I imagine. I came to relax.” He sat down on the bench opposite of Aunt Violetta.

  “This is an all-female sauna!”

  “No, it's not. I made sure to ask.” Th
e aggressive note in Aunt Violetta's voice seemed to completely pass him by.

  Carlina climbed onto the middle bench and stretched herself out. Relax. That's what you came for. “The more pertinent question, dear mamma, and dear Aunt Violetta, is what are you doing here?”

  Fabbiola sat up straight. “I came to protect my son.”

  “By doing what, exactly?”

  “I'm going to find the murderer, so that Cervi can't arrest Enzo.”

  “Lovely.” Carlina's voice was dry. “And you, Aunt Violetta?”

  “Why, I'm here to do market research.”

  Carlina threw a look at Stefano, but he was staring at the floor as if he was far away. Maybe that's the best way to cope with the antics of the family. Just pretend you're not there. But she knew she couldn't do it, so in spite of herself, she asked, “Market research? What about?”

  “Gosh, Carlina, I thought forgetfulness comes with old age, but you seem to have the problem already. You remember about my plan to open a brothel for women?” Aunt Violetta's voice was sharp. “Officially, it'll have to be a luxury spa and escort service because of the narrow-minded laws in this country, and I figured that I'd find the best choice here in Milan.”

  Carlina gulped. She'd tried to forget her great-aunt's determined career plans. At the age of ninety-nine, it hadn't been too much to hope that Aunt Violetta would soon concentrate on something else. But no. The old matriarch clung to her idea, and it seemed she was already taking decisive action.

  “It's field research.” Aunt Violetta sounded well pleased with herself. “If you want to be successful, you have to study the market and make sure you know what the competition is doing. That's stage one of the business plan. I've already checked the ones in Florence, and Milan was next on my list.”

  “And I thought it would be a good idea to accompany her,” Fabbiola's voice sounded grim, “to make sure she doesn't make a laughing stock of our good family name. This whole idea is disgraceful. Someone has to keep her in check.”

  Aunt Violetta slapped her hands on her legs as if she'd heard a good joke.

  Carlina felt sweat breaking out all over her body and didn't know if it was a family or sauna reaction.

  “Don't worry, Fabbiola.” Aunt Violetta shouted with such vigor that the glass door rattled. “We're being totally discreet. Just a few questions here and there. After all, we don't want to alert the competition too early.”

  “So you're going to every single spa in town?” Stefano asked.

  “Just the high-class ones,” Aunt Violetta answered. “I searched them on the internet, and I've also got a letter from the Institute of Health that I can show, so they'll give me some background information.”

  “A letter from the Institute of Health?” Carlina blinked.

  “Yes. It explains that according to paragraph 342 in the recently approved health law regulations of the tribunal of Milan, every spa and sports institute is subject to an annual check-up from the government. I'm the one who does the initial check-up, and I'll report back to the responsible department.”

  “I don't think the tribunal of Milan is responsible for this kind of thing.” Stefano's voice was dry.

  “Well, you can doubt all you want,” Aunt Violetta snapped. “But I'm sure people will swallow it hook, line, and sinker, because my letter looks super official. It even has a stamp.”

  Carlina stared at her through the mist. “Where did you get that letter, Aunt Violetta?”

  “Ha.” She chuckled. “You'd love to know, wouldn't you? But I won't tell.”

  “It's a fake!”

  “Of course it is.” Aunt Violetta didn't sound repentant. “But if you want to advance in life, you shouldn't allow small obstacles to stop you.”

  “I think I've just turned a bit deaf,” Stefano said.

  “Yes, I think you'd better.” Aunt Violetta said. “I keep forgetting we now have police in the family. It's a bit unsettling, my dear. Couldn't you have married a lawyer? We still need one.”

  “And a doctor,” Fabbiola piped up. “We urgently need a doctor in the family.”

  Carlina rolled her eyes. “Too late, mamma. You'll have to focus on Annalisa. She's the only one without a partner. Maybe she can find some kind of superman, doctor and lawyer all rolled in one.”

  “No, no, that won't work,” Fabbiola said. “He'd have to study way too long before he can make any money.”

  Carlina closed her eyes.

  “I don't see why you say she's the only one without a partner,” Aunt Violetta cut in. “After all, I'm single, and so is Fabbiola.”

  A strangled noise came from Stefano's direction.

  “Age doesn't matter nowadays,” Aunt Violetta continued. “Who knows? We might find someone quite nice here in Milan. There's a bigger selection than in Florence. Talking about which, have you met the delicious Patrizio?”

  “Yes.” Carlina wondered what they would discuss next.

  “He's eye-candy, isn't he?” Aunt Violetta sounded eighty years younger than her real age.

  “Hmm.”

  “We're not here to discuss Violetta's erratic career and partner plans,” Fabbiola said. “What have you done to save my son? That's what I want to know!”

  “I didn't say I wanted Patrizio to be my partner.” Aunt Violetta wasn't to be deflected from her topic. “In fact, I'm considering hiring him.”

  Carlina gulped. “Hiring him?”

  “Yes. The whole project hinges on having attractive and charming men available. Do you think he would be willing to work for me?”

  “As a playboy?” Stefano asked. “Someone should warn him.”

  “As a high-class escort who occasionally offers the all-inclusive package deal,” Aunt Violetta said with dignity. “Starting with a massage.” Her voice trailed off, and she sank into pleasurable thoughts, judging from the low chuckle that came through the mist.

  Carlina found her voice before Aunt Violetta managed to reveal more details of the all-inclusive package deal. “I . . . I suggest you'd better wait a bit until you approach him.”

  “Why?”

  “You first have to get a better overview about the whole market. I mean, you can't hire the first good-looking guy you meet, can you? Take your time, look around, and then, choose the top people in the industry to work for you.”

  “I really don't understand why we talk about Violetta's nonsensical ideas while my son is in danger,” Fabbiola interrupted. “I'm sick and tired of talking about spas and escort services. It's a dirty business, and I refuse to be related to it in any way whatsoever. And now I want to know what you've done so far to clear Enzo.”

  “We've talked to everyone who knew Dorotea would come down to Florence for the weekend,” Stefano answered.

  “And?”

  “And it's difficult.”

  “Of course it's difficult,” Fabbiola snapped. “If it was easy, everybody could do it. What did you learn?”

  “Well, as far as we could find out so far, there are seven people who knew about Dorotea's plans to go to Florence.”

  “Who?”

  “Number one, her secretary, a mouse-like woman who seems completely harmless.”

  “You never know with mice.” Aunt Violetta wagged her head.

  “Number two, the finance director, who doesn't talk, doesn't laugh, and is about as unpleasant as you can imagine.”

  “I bet he's the murderer,” Fabbiola said with satisfaction. “He sounds just like a murderer.”

  Stefano continued without paying any heed to her. “Number three, the purchase and quality director who's been with the company for decades and looks forward to retiring soon.”

  “Nah.” Aunt Violetta shook her head. “Wrong age.”

  “Wrong age?” Carlina frowned.

  “If he's about to retire, he won't risk anything by murdering someone. Trust me, I know. If he were younger or older, he might do it. But not at that phase in life.”

  “He might have just snapped,” Carlina said.


  “No way.” Aunt Violetta spoke with utter conviction without ever having met the man.

  Stefano wasn't distracted. “Number four, the marketing manager who simultaneously claims that nobody will miss her and that she's quite irreplaceable.”

  “He sounds nice,” Aunt Violetta said. “I like complex men.”

  “Well, this one isn't for you because he's as gay as they can get.”

  “Pity.” Aunt Violetta sat up straighter. “You know, I've just had an idea. Maybe my spa should offer something for gay people, too. It would round off the whole thing, wouldn't it?”

  “Not yet, Aunt Violetta.” Carlina made sure her voice sounded firm. “You first start with the basics, and then you diversify. Otherwise, it gets too confusing for the customer.”

  “Oh, all right. Where were we?”

  Stefano stoically continued. “Number five, the sales manager, who looks like a jockey and talks with the speed of a machine gun. He's nervous, and he's the only one who doesn't admit Dorotea was an ogre, which in itself is suspicious.”

  “I bet he's the murderer,” Aunt Violetta said.

  Carlina stared at her. “Really? Why?”

  “I don't like small men.”

  Carlina sighed and dropped her head back onto the headrest.

  “Number six, the production director. He's probably the only one with an alibi, as he stayed with his family at the lago di Garda during the weekend.”

  “Never trust an alibi that's given by family,” Fabbiola said.

  “Well, not all families work like the Mantoni family,” Stefano replied.

  Fabbiola lifted her chin. “Now what exactly do you wish to imply, Stefano?”

  “Merely that we're tightly-knit, mamma.” Carlina tried to make her voice as soothing as possible. “Who's number seven, Stefano?”

  “Enzo.”

  “Enzo!” This time, it was Fabbiola's shout that made the glass door rattle. “How can you add my son to the list of possible murderers?”

  “I didn't list possible murderers. I listed the people who knew where she would be on Saturday night.”

  “There could be more,” Carlina hastily added before things could escalate. “Dorotea might have gone out on Friday evening with someone we don't know about, or she might have talked about her plans here at the spa. She came here on Saturday morning, and she got her regular massage from Patrizio.”