Elegant Death Read online

  “That sounds as if you experienced it firsthand,” Carlina said.

  Benito shook his head. “Not me. My boyfriend at the time. He had a burnout after four months.”

  “It seems the fashion industry is not very healthy.” Fabbiola crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “Oh, no, it's not.” Benito looked at her. “But the glamour! The fame! There's no better industry.”

  “What about that useless Alessandro?” Aunt Violetta asked. “Is he still in the company?”

  “Oh, yes. In fact, he ended up being the sole owner when his father died a year ago of cancer.”

  “You mentioned a deal earlier,” Carlina said. “What about it?”

  “Well, within one year of his father's death, Alessandro managed to run the company into the ground. The people who had stood his behavior until then because of loyalty to his father left in a hurry, and he made every mistake you could possibly make. He even tried to introduce a children's line with the same brand name … utterly ridiculous, of course. A man wants to feel like a man, particularly an Arabic man, and I can only imagine their feelings when that prestigious brand started to throw out pink tutus. It made them ridiculous.” He sighed and stared into his glass. “It's a tragedy for the brand. So sad. Now, if I had the money . . . I could do something with that brand.”

  “But the deal?” Carlina felt another shiver running up her spine. Were they finally on the right track of the murderer?

  “Well, Alessandro soon realized he'd better sell if he didn't want to end up with a lot of debts. But these deals take time, and he wanted out quickly. At that moment, Dorotea got wind of his intentions. She flew down to Florence and proposed a deal.”

  “When was that?” Stefano asked.

  “Three months ago.” Benito nodded. “I still remember it like yesterday because it was my birthday. She came to my office, her chin held high, and told me she was about to buy Camicie d'Oro. You could have knocked me down with a feather.”

  “Didn't she discuss the decision with you beforehand?” Carlina asked.

  “Oh, no. She always decided these things on her own, sometimes with external consultants, but she never involved any of the directors.”

  Stefano narrowed his eyes. “Why did she tell you especially? Why didn't she tell all the directors together or make a formal announcement via e-mail?”

  Benito looked at him. “You're quick, aren't you? She came to me because she knew I had a secret soft spot for the shirts from Camicie d'Oro. I mean, I love our shirts, but there are some occasions when you truly want to stand out, when you want to hold the center stage and be in the limelight, and for those moments, the Camicie Di Silva shirts are just no good. So she told me about it. I bet she wanted to test my reaction.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I was speechless. Couldn't believe it. And to be quite honest, I was dismayed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she wasn't the right person to lead that brand. She was Snow Queen, she was cool and elegant no matter what, and she wouldn't have been seen dead in one of the shirts from Camicie d'Oro.”

  “Then why did she buy the brand?” Aunt Violetta asked.

  Benito shrugged. “She was a shrewd businesswoman, and she knew she could never appeal to some people with our shirts. Maybe she wanted to reach a different target group, mostly in another country, to spread the risk. Then again, maybe it was a sense of power. With the addition of the brand of Camicie d'Oro, she was undisputed queen in the market for men's shirts. Or it might have been revenge. Nobody knows what her father told her on his deathbed.”

  “Sounds pretty melodramatic to me,” Carlina said.

  “But darling!” Benito flashed her a smile. “Melodrama is the spice of life! And you know as well as I do that all the soap operas written today are based on real life.”

  “Quite.” Stefano's voice was dry.

  Benito finished his drink. “Actually, I wondered if maybe she wanted to put me in charge. I never told her, but she guessed I had a hankering for a bit of glamour.”

  Carlina bit her lip to avoid smiling. It didn't take a lot of insight to come to that conclusion.

  “It would have been the chance of a life-time.” He grimaced. “And it would have offered me a chance to get a bit of a distance from her.”

  “But wouldn't you have been forced to live in Florence?” Fabbiola lifted her eyebrows.

  He looked at her. “My dear, if I could lead the brand of Camicie d'Oro, I would be willing to live in a one-dog-town! After all, I could always have gone back to town for the weekends.”

  “And did she offer you that job?” Aunt Violetta asked.

  “No.” He sighed. “I didn't sleep for three nights, but she never mentioned it again.”

  “So she dangled that carrot in front of your face, purely to see how you would react.” Carlina frowned. She was so glad her brother was free of that woman.

  “It seems like it.” Benito shook himself. “Well, never mind. We'll see what our new CEO has to say.”

  “When was the deal officially signed?” Stefano asked.

  “Last week.”

  Carlina jumped. “Last week? But you said she told you about it three months ago!”

  “Oh, these things always take ages. You have to get the banks to agree, and then, there are audits, and agreements, and negotiations . . . In fact, three months is record time.”

  “And she didn't tell any of you how she planned to go ahead with this new company?”

  “Well, she informed all of us during the director's meeting last Friday that the deal was signed on Wednesday, and that she would fly down to Florence during the weekend to kick off the proceedings on Monday. She said she had already developed a concept, and that it wouldn't touch us at all. She planned to keep the two brands absolutely separate.” He sighed and looked into his empty glass. “So much for my dream.”

  Aunt Violetta had listened to his tale with rapt attention, her eyes large and brilliant. Now, she blinked as if waking from a beautiful dream, and said, “You know, if you should ever like to work in a different field altogether, I might have an offer for you.”

  Carlina's mouth fell open.

  “Really?” Benito turned to her. “Will it be as exhilarating as our time together in Versailles?”

  “More so.” Aunt Violetta winked at him. “I can guarantee that.”

  Fabbiola frowned. “What on earth do you mean? You don't have any jobs for a marketing director.”

  Aunt Violetta grinned until all her wrinkles trembled. “I didn't say it would be a position for a marketing director.”

  Fabbiola gulped. “You don't mean . . . ?”

  “I think I'll explain it personally to you, Benito.” Aunt Violetta said with the dignity of a condescending monarch. “Let's meet here in the lobby tomorrow evening, and we'll go into the details. You said you'd sometimes had a hankering for being in the spotlight. I can guarantee that this new job would give you an excellent basis for being continually in the spotlight.” She dived into a small handbag and pulled out a card. “This is the number of my telefonino, my cell phone. Just call me, and we'll arrange the details.”

  Carlina didn't know if she should cry or laugh, but before she could say anything, Enzo arrived in the lobby, saw them and came to their table. “Here you are!” He looked at them all. “Oh, hi Benito. I didn't see you at first.”

  “You know, I don't think anybody ever said that to me before. In fact, it's an insult if I ever heard one.” Benito placed his hand over his heart. “You've wounded me deeply.”

  Enzo's eyes widened. “I'm sorry. I had no idea –“

  Benito waved a languid hand. “Never mind. I was joking. And I only dropped in by chance.” He looked to the door. “There's my date arriving.” He unfolded himself from his chair. “Thank you for the pleasant company, and have a wonderful evening.” He removed himself with grace.

  “Half the time I don't know that he's talking about.” Enzo threw
himself into the vacated chair. “I say, did you know that your boss came to see me today, Stefano? I told him all we'd learned, and he left in a super bad mood.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “So let's celebrate that I'm not arrested yet!” Enzo beamed at them. “I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Have you decided where to go for dinner?”

  Carlina threw a glance at Stefano. She could tell where this was leading.

  He met her gaze, a rueful smile in his eyes. “No dinner for two, I guess?” he said so low only she could hear.

  “I'm afraid it'll have to be dinner for ten.”

  “Ten?”

  “Yes. Enzo, mamma, you, me, and Aunt Violetta counts for the remaining six.”

  He laughed. “I see.” Then he looked at the rest of the family. “Carlina and I would like to go out for Thai. You're welcome to join us.”

  Fabbiola stiffened. “Thai? What's wrong with plain Italian food?”

  “Nothing. We just thought we'd like a change.” Carlina got up. “But you don't have to join. I believe it's not good for your sensitive stomach anyway.”

  Fabbiola opened her eyes wide. “My sensitive stomach?”

  “Yes.” Carlina gave her a sunny smile. “Didn't you say it gets upset easily?”

  Her mother shook her head. “I don't know where you get your ideas, Carlina. I never said anything of the kind. But I don't like Asian food.”

  “That's no problem.” Carlina took Stefano's arm. “After all, we don't have to eat together every night.”

  “I'll join you, if you don't mind,” Enzo said. “I love Thai food, and I know just the right place. It's not far.”

  Fabbiola got up. “I guess we'll have to come, too,” she said with a martyred air. “After all, I don't know how long I'll be able to enjoy eating in the company of my son.”

  Half an hour later, she was looking at the steaming soup in front of her with a critical expression on her face. “It's very yellow,” she said.

  “It's green curry soup, and it's delicious,” Carlina replied. “Try it. It'll warm you up inside, and that's exactly what we need after the cold wind outside.”

  Fabbiola sighed and dipped her spoon into the liquid with as much reluctance as if she'd been asked to eat fried grasshoppers.

  Enzo was spooning his soup with a happy expression on his face. “You can't imagine how great I feel now that the police have another suspect.”

  “Oh, they do?” Fabbiola's face lighted up.

  “Yes. The director of finance. Apparently, he's been cooking the books.”

  Aunt Violetta angled her head to the side. “He must be clever.”

  “Not clever enough for Dorotea.” Enzo swallowed another spoonful of his soup. “She found him out and may have talked to him about it on Friday.”

  “Which would have given him an excellent motive.” Aunt Violetta beamed her approval.

  Enzo nodded. “Did you find out anything else today, Carlina?”

  “Yes. Your secretary is having an affair with Franco di Rosa.”

  Fabbiola frowned. “Who's Franco di Rosa?”

  “The sales manager. The one who looks like a jockey.”

  Enzo didn't bat an eyelid. “I told you he knows how to charm women.”

  “And did you also know Dorotea had given Liza her notice?”

  Enzo frowned. “No, I didn't. How odd. Why?”

  “Because she wasn't efficient enough.”

  Her brother gave a bark of laughter. “If she hadn't petrified her into a stone, she might have been more efficient.”

  “So you'll keep her on?”

  Enzo shrugged. “For the time being, sure. I don't feel like looking for another secretary when I know less than she does. Besides, I'm not sure for how long I'll stay myself.”

  Fabbiola dropped her spoon with a splash. “What do you mean?”

  “I told you from the beginning I don't want all this money. It's crushing me. If I survive the next months, I'll find a way to get out of the rat race.”

  His mother groaned. “But the position! The glamour! You've got such a powerful position now. Think of everything you can do!”

  “I'd rather think of everything I won't have to do anymore. What's the use of riches if I can't live the way I want to live?”

  Aunt Violetta nodded. “That's a very good attitude. And if you should ever feel like something a little unusual to get you out of the humdrum life of living with sand between your toes in your flip-flops, you can come to me, and I'll give you an interesting job for as long as you want it.”

  Fabbiola shrieked.

  The owner of the restaurant, a petite woman with dark hair, exquisitely dressed in a colorful Thai robe, rushed to them, her eyes wide with concern. “Is anything the matter?”

  “Nothing at all,” Carlina gave her a reassuring smile. “Just a little family dispute.” She turned to Aunt Violetta. “You should stop recruiting people for a business that doesn't even exist.”

  Aunt Violetta pursed her lips. “I haven't even talked to that delicious Patrizio yet. He would be a true magnet for my business, a masseur and VIP expert.”

  Carlina sighed. “It's bad enough that you've talked to Benito, and now you're even trying to recruit Enzo.”

  Enzo grinned. “I, however, have a huge advantage. I know Aunt Violetta, and I know the exact nature of her business plans, so I won't even be tempted.”

  “Oh, won't you?” Aunt Violetta glared at him.

  “No, I won't.”

  “And what if I offer you benefits?”

  Carlina laughed. “He doesn't need your benefits.” She threw a quick look at Fabbiola who looked as if she was about to explode any second. Better change the topic before the poor restaurant owner comes rushing to our table once again. “Enzo, Benito told us about a company merger tonight. Something about Camicie d'Oro being bought by Dorotea. That company is based in Florence, so they might have something to do with the murder. Do you know anything about it?”

  Enzo nodded. “Yeah, she mentioned it when we were driving to your wedding.” He grinned. “But actually, I knew about it before.”

  “Really? I thought mergers and acquisitions are top secrets?”

  “They are, but you see, she talked in her sleep.”

  Carlina sat up straight. “Dorotea talked in her sleep?”

  “Yes. She was quite lucid, and she even answered questions she would never have considered answering when she was awake.”

  Stefano gave him a sharp look. “And did you ask her questions when she was asleep?”

  Enzo looked sheepish. “Just once, when she said something about me.”

  “What did she say?” Fabbiola sounded belligerent.

  “She usually started by mumbling, and then a few words came up that made sense. The time I remember best was when she said, 'he's sweet but soft'. I happened to wake up and just caught the tail end of that sentence. As I was only halfawake, I asked, 'Who is?' and she said, 'Enzo'. Then she slipped into deeper sleep again.”

  Stefano frowned. “When was that?”

  “About a month ago. It irked me, and when I woke up the next morning, I wondered if I should tackle her about it, but then, I let it go. I wasn't sure if I had dreamed the whole thing. Until last week.”

  “What happened last week?” Aunt Violetta's eyes glittered.

  “Last week, she crowed in her sleep, you know, a little laugh that sounded perfectly happy. It woke me up. I pushed myself up on my elbow and switched on the light. She was deeply asleep, not even twitching an eyelash. And then, she said, 'Oro Di Silva and Camicie Di Silva. What a perfect combination. I'll keep the star, though. He'll just have to swallow it.'”

  Fabbiola frowned. “What on earth did she mean?”

  “She was talking about the merger. At the time, I didn't understand, but when she explained everything to me in the car on the way to the wedding, I suddenly knew what she'd been talking about.”

  “Which was?”

  “Did Benito
tell you about the history? That it used to be one company, and that they split it up later?”

  “Yes.” Stefano nodded.

  “Well, Alessandro Stellini realized he had to sell the company if he didn't want to end up being bankrupt, but he didn't want to give up the heritage. So he asked Dorotea to keep the brand name Camicie d'Oro without any changes.”

  Carlina opened her eyes wide. “Was that part of the contract?”

  “Not in the final version.” Enzo shook his head. “Alessandro didn't pay attention to details. He did remember to put it into one of the first drafts, but when such an agreement is made, you usually have five or six drafts until everything is settled to everyone's liking. His lawyer put in the condition that the name shouldn't be changed, and the sale would only go through under this condition. Her lawyer took it out again.”

  “And he didn't see that?”

  “His lawyer did see it and put it in again.”

  “Sounds like a never ending story to me,” Carlina said. “Maybe they should have sat around a table and talked.”

  Enzo snorted. “That wouldn't have helped. I know how Dorotea worked. If you sat with her at a table and agreed on things, the contract that arrived a day later often said quite different stuff than the content you'd agreed on.”

  “Gosh. Isn't that criminal?”

  Enzo spread his hands. “It's business. At least, it was business if you worked with Dorotea Di Silva and her ilk.” He sighed. “Why do you think I wanted to get out of it? You had to be on your toes the whole time while doing business with her.”

  “She sounds like an abominable woman.” Fabbiola shook her head.

  “But incredibly capable.” Aunt Violetta's voice held a wistful note.

  “Oh, there were plenty of people in Milan who didn't shake her hand anymore. But to get back to the contract. About halfway through the negotiations, Alessandro's lawyer walked out, and Alessandro decided he could finish the negotiations by himself.”