Tricky Death Read online

  Carlina stood entranced, watching it all from inside like a theater play unfolding right in front of her eyes.

  The man with the hair – really, there was no other way to describe him – was left standing on the sidewalk, his arms hanging at his sides, staring after the departing Japanese group, in the direction the girl had taken. He balled his fists and said something Carlina couldn't hear, then he returned to the store. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I … I just thought I'd recognized someone.”

  That much I gathered. “She didn't recognize you.” And she should, if she's ever seen you before.

  “No. No, she didn't. But that doesn't matter.” He stood for a moment without moving, then he said, “Look, this request may seem strange to you, but may I see the name on the credit card slip that you just took from that woman, please?”

  She hid a smile. The woman had clearly left him bereft of all senses. “Of course not. You'd need an official request from the police before I can release that kind of information.” Now she would see if her hunch was right. If he protested and tried to convince her, it wasn't Tonio.

  “Oh. Right. Wait a minute.” Tonio whipped out his phone. “Commissario Garini? I think I've found her, the flour girl, I mean. But she escaped me. However, she just bought something at a shop called Temptation, and if you –“

  “What?”

  Carlina bit her lip to stop grinning. She could hear Stefano's voice without any difficulty.

  “I need an official order, so the shop owner will release the credit card information to me. Can you arrange this, please?” Tonio listed to the reply, then stared at the phone in surprise. “He said he would be right over and hung up. But I'm not sure if he can get the document so quickly.” He was talking more to himself than to Carlina.

  “Don't worry,” Carlina said. “I know his credentials. You see, I'm his wife.” It still gave her a little thrill to say that, though they'd already been married for seven months.

  Tonio's mouth opened and closed again.

  She smiled. “Why don't we use the time to finish that voucher? Or have you forgotten the name of the right sister in the excitement?”

  He flushed – at least, his neck turned red. The rest wasn't visible behind the hair. “It's Bianca.”

  They had barely finished when Garini burst through the door. He looked across the store to his wife and said, “Tell me it's not true.”

  She lifted both hands. “It's not my fault.” She pointed at Tonio. “Your colleague wanted to buy a voucher, and while doing so, he recognized another customer.”

  Tonio nodded. “It was her, the flour girl. I know it. At first, I wasn't one hundred percent sure, but when I saw her nose in profile, there couldn't be a doubt.”

  Carlina blinked. “Her nose?”

  Again, the neck turned red. “It's a sweet, upturned nose. Quite unique.”

  Carlina exchanged an amused look with Stefano.

  He came up to her and bent to give her a short kiss. “Well, I'm glad that for once, your involvement doesn't seem to bring you into danger.”

  “I'd like to stress once again that it was entirely involuntary on my part.”

  He shook his head. “Sometimes, the universe freaks me out.”

  “But you often hear those stories,” she smiled at him. “People traveling all around the world, only to meet their neighbor with the baker's wife in a village in Thailand or so. Life is like that.”

  He sighed. “I guess that's got to be it.”

  Tonio looked from one to the other.

  Stefano turned to Carlina. “Would you please release the name of the customer you've just served? I'll make sure to send you the proper documentation as soon as I've got it.”

  She nodded and took out the paper slip. “Her name is Ilaria Marino. Does that ring a bell?”

  Both men shook their heads.

  “I can Google it, if you want.”

  “Yes, please.”

  Carlina pulled her computer closer and entered the name, then she looked up, surprised. “She's the co-owner of a bakery close to the Santa Maria Novella station.”

  “Let me see.” With one quick step, Stefano was by her side and checked the location, then he whistled. “The bakery is right across the street from the entrance to the Inferno d'Oro. I’ve been there.” He turned to Tonio. “What does she look like? Dark hair, pulled back, and black glasses?”

  Tonio exhaled and threw up his hands. “I don't know how you do it, but yes, that's her. At least, it was today. If it hadn't been for the nose, I would never have recognized her. The night of the murder, she had her hair loosely piled on top of her head, with mussed-up strands hanging everywhere. No glasses, lots of makeup. A different woman altogether.”

  Carlina looked at him. “How can anyone who ever met you not recognize you?”

  Stefano smiled. “There's a reason.”

  She looked at him. “Oh. Right. It's a police secret or something.” Then she turned to Tonio. “I think I know.” She cocked her head to the side. “If you change the hair, few people would know who you really are.”

  Tonio sighed. “I hope not all people are as discerning as you are.” He turned to Stefano. “Will you now go to Ilaria Marino and talk with her?”

  Stefano nodded.

  The mop made a curious move. “Do you … would you … I mean, could I … ?”

  “You want to join?”

  “Yes, please!”

  “Sure.” Stefano turned to his wife and looked at her for a moment. Then he cupped her face and kissed her. “I'll see you later, Caralina. Try not to get into mischief.”

  She smiled at their private nickname and lifted two fingers as if to swear. “Scout's honor.”

  It didn't take them long to reach the bakery. When they came through the door, the young woman stood behind the sales counter and wiped it down. She recognized Garini and greeted him, then her gaze fell onto Tonio, and a broad smile spread across her face. “I think I saw you at Temptation earlier, didn't I?”

  Tonio nodded, apparently bereft of speech.

  Garini could feel the excitement humming through his colleague.

  She looked at them both. “What can I do for you?” She was self-assured and friendly, an excellent shop owner.

  Stefano inhaled the alluring scent of fresh bread and sweet biscuits. Working in a bakery had its advantages. “I'm commissario Stefano Garini from the Florentine homicide department, and this is my colleague, Tonio Ferrero. We'd like to talk to you in connection with the murder that took place at the Inferno d'Oro.”

  She paled. “Madonna.” For an instant, she hesitated, then she hung up her towel. “Sit down. I was about to close the store anyway, so we can talk quietly.”

  While they sat at one of the round tables, she locked the door and turned the sign to “chiuso.” Then she pulled up a chair and dropped into it. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Stefano shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  Tonio seemed too besotted to speak for himself, but at least, he managed a small shake of the head.

  Stefano bent forward. “Is it all right if my colleague records this conversation?” He gave the recorder to Tonio.

  She nodded, and they proceeded to take her name and address.

  This done, Stefano just looked at her for an instant. Tonio had been right – she had a lovely nose. Her other features were nothing outstanding, but her brown eyes were intelligent and gentle. He said, “You were at the Inferno d'Oro last night, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a regular there?”

  “Oh, no. It was my first time.” Under her breath she added, “And my last.”

  “Why did you go there?”

  Ilaria bit her lip and looked at her fingers. “This is a bit embarrassing.”

  “It won't go any further unless it's absolutely vital to clear up the murder.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “It doesn't have anything to do with the murder. I can guarantee that.”
/>   “Please tell us.”

  “Well, it was like this.” She hesitated. “I've got to go way back to explain it all.”

  “Take your time.”

  “My family has had this bakery for four generations, and my father is very proud of it. I'm an only child, and he always wanted me to take over and to continue with the tradition. So I complied, but at the same time, I couldn't help but noticing that the district here was developing in a bad way.” She gestured at the street. “I mean, the club says it all. I tried to get Dad to find a new location, but he didn't feel comfortable with that. Besides, it's not easy. This house belongs to us, but in a better area, we would have to rent or buy at a higher price, and that's expensive. So we're kind of stuck. At the same time, I've got this dream.” Again, she looked at her hands.

  For an instant, it was so quiet inside the bakery they could hear the humming of the cooling units.

  “What kind of dream?” Garini gently prodded.

  She lifted her head and took a deep breath. “I'd like to emigrate to the United States.”

  Tonio jumped.

  “But I can't even talk about it. It would break my father's heart. So I'm just dreaming, and learning English, and trying to get into touch with as many Americans as possible. Most of all, I gobble up emigration stories.” Her smile turned sad. “But even though Florence is full of tourists, they don't usually stray into this street, so I don't have as many chances as I'd like to learn and practice my English.”

  “I see nothing embarrassing so far,” Garini said.

  “I'm getting to it.” She took another deep breath. “A month or so ago, an old man came in here. He had a cup of coffee, and we started to chat a bit. He told me his son had left Italy with his mother when he was still small and now lived in Boston. One thing led to another, and I told him about my dream. Then he had this idea.”

  “What idea?”

  “That I should start talking to his son on the phone – he to keep up his Italian, I to learn better English.” Her cheeks grew red. “Well, long story short, we started to call each other, and it soon became … well, more personal. Gino was a bit … special.”

  Garini frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She swallowed. “He told me he was an artist and had firm beliefs about how the society is developing in a bad way. And one thing that he really hated was social media and anything to do with the Internet. So he didn't have a profile anywhere, and he didn't use the computer, or anything.”

  The hair on the back of Garini's neck stood up. “You mean you only had his phone number and nothing else?”

  “Yes.” She clenched her teeth. “You can tell me I'm stupid. I've been telling myself the same thing.”

  Tonio wiped his hair out of his face and looked at her. “What did he do to you?”

  She sighed. “Nothing much. We talked for long stretches of time. It was fun, even if he …”

  “Even if he?” Tonio's voice sounded rough.

  “Nothing. Anyway, one day, out of thee blue, he said he was coming to Florence. I couldn't believe it. He wanted to meet me, the following day. I said we wouldn't even recognize each other, so he told me to bring some white flour, as a sign. He said it was romantic.” She swallowed. “I thought it was fun, because I'm a baker, you see. And then, he said he'd heard of a club, right across the street, and wouldn't it be great to meet there. I started to tell him it wasn't a good location, but then, the line broke down, and I wasn't able to reach him anymore. So I went to the club.”

  Garini didn't take his gaze off her. “And then?”

  Ilaria shrugged. “And nothing. He didn't show up.”

  Tonio and Garini exchanged a look.

  “And the next day, I heard about the razzia and the murder, and I realized how gullible I've been. I don't know why they lured me to that place, and I think something must have gone wrong. Maybe they set me up as a scapegoat or something. Now of course, I realize I've been stupid to believe him. He sounded so convincing, you know.”

  And you were ripe for a bit of romance. Garini thought. Someone knew a lot about you and your dreams and played you with dexterity. “Were you able to reach him on the phone while you were waiting?”

  She shook her head. “No. He never answered. And today, the line is no longer in service.” She swallowed. “That's when I realized what a fool I've been.”

  Tonio made a move as if to take her hand, but restrained himself at the last moment.

  “Did you share your American dreams with anybody else?”

  “I think so, just joking around, you know, never serious. It would get to my father's ears, and he'd be worried. So I did talk about it, but like one does when discussing what to do if one day, one becomes a millionaire.”

  “Who did you talk to?”

  She made a slight move with her hand. “Anybody. The customers. Friends. As I said, I joked about it, to hide how strong it had become.”

  Garini looked at her. “Did Gino – that was his name, right?”

  She snorted. “Probably not. But that was the name he gave to me.”

  “Did you ever have the feeling that he was particularly interested in any special topic?”

  She blinked. “We talked about everything, more or less.”

  Tonio bent forward. “Just now, you hesitated, when you said the talk became more personal. Why was that?”

  She flushed. “I … he sometimes seemed a bit slow. But at the same time, he was very gentle, and I liked that.”

  “What did he reveal about himself?”

  Ilaria gave a little laugh. “Precious little, and when I remember the few things he said, I'm not sure if I should even believe those anymore. He did say he was an architect, so we talked about houses.”

  Garini picked up his ears. “About houses?”

  “Yeah. Like how old the building here was, and what material was used when it was built, riveting stuff like that.” She looked into space. “He had a lovely voice. Dark and caressing, sort of. It didn't really matter what we talked about. I enjoyed it anyway. And I loved his American accent.” She shrugged. “Pathetic, really.”

  Suddenly, Garini remembered Sergio's words, talking about rumors about underground passages. The bakery was right opposite the nightclub, a nightclub that obviously didn't do everything by the book. A secret passage to another house would certainly come in useful. Was it possible that this girl had been seen as the ticket to a secret entrance? “You said this bakery has been in your family's possession for four generations?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any old construction drawings of the house or anything else like that?”

  She opened her eyes wide. “Gino asked that, too.”

  So I was right. “And?”

  She shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

  “Is there a cellar?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Did Gino also ask about that?”

  She nodded in slow motion. “Yes, he did. He said you could learn a lot about the history of old houses if you had a good look at the foundation and cellars. He said he'd love to visit our cellar if he ever came to Florence one day.” She colored. “It was a joke, of course.”

  “I don't think so. I believe it was a not-so-subtle approach to get into your house and try to find a secret entrance.”

  She stared at him. “A secret entrance? It sounds like a romance.”

  “During the times of the Medici, secret entrances and hidden passage ways weren't romantic. They often were necessary to save your life.”

  “But this is just a humble baker's house.”

  Garini looked around. “It might not always have been.”

  Tonio shook his mop. “It sounds very probable. We could go and look for it right now.” His voice was enthusiastic.

  So you can spend more time with the girl you've fallen for? Garini didn't want to be a spoil sport, but he knew he had to channel their resources. “I think we'd better get in some experts. They'll be quicker and mo
re likely to find something.” He wondered at the roundabout way these people had chosen. It took some time and ingenuity to come up with the plan to woo the young owner of the shop in order to get into her cellars. “Did you get any offer for this property in the last few months?”

  She frowned. “No, I didn't.”

  “Are you the owner?”

  She shook her head. “No. The house still belongs to my babbo. I own half the bakery, though.”

  He considered this point. “If your father got an offer for this property to sell, do you think he would have shared it with you?”

  Ilaria's eyes widened. “I … I'm not sure. He knows about my wish to find another property, but he's very attached to this house, so he might just keep quiet about it.”

  Garini nodded slowly. “And that's why they had to find another way to get at it.”

  She frowned. “Who's they?”

  Garini shook his head. “I don't know. I have a feeling this is a big web. We've only grabbed different strands so far without seeing the whole.” He stopped and bent forward. “Here's my card, and Tonio will also give you his. If you ever think of anything else, let us know. Oh, and you might wish to avoid dark and lonely places. Also, please make sure you close the house securely during the night.”

  “You mean –?”

  “It's a safety measure. We'll let you know when there are new developments.” He looked at Tonio. “Tonio, would you please get permission to search the house, particularly the cellar?” He knew he didn't have the official power to ask Tonio to do anything, but this was a promising lead for the drug squad, and if he wasn't mistaken, Tonio would jump at the chance to spend more time close to the girl.

  Tonio nodded with alacrity. “Sure.”

  Garini got up. “All right. I'll leave you to it.”

  He returned to his office in dire need to clear his head. With a sigh, he sank into his chair and held his head. The image of the web with the different strands stuck with him. What did he have?