Tricky Death Read online

  Carlina blinked. “It's much too short notice to do effective advertisement. Besides, you don't have that famous young Master of Ceremony yet.”

  “I'll get one.” Aunt Violetta sounded fierce. “And we already booked a radio slot quite some time ago. In fact, it's the first thing I did, right after I had the idea.” Her wrinkles deepened into a beatific smile. “I've always wanted to do radio broadcasts. This is so much fun! And with social media, you can work wonders at short notice. Ernesto will cover that part, Facebook, Twitter, all that crap.”

  “Eh?” Ernesto dropped his fork.

  Carlina grinned.

  Aunt Violetta looked at Carlina. “Ah, that's better. Now, are you in?”

  Carlina returned the look. “Promise me you'll return everything to top shape. If you mount a TV on the wall, you'll have to fill in the holes and paint everything afterwards. I don't want any visible damage on my walls.”

  “Done.”

  “And you all need to help.” She looked around the table. “Two hours before the event, my merchandise needs to be packed up and put away. Otherwise, too much will be stolen. You have to help me to pack it, put it into a van, and unpack everything again the next day.”

  The family nodded.

  Aunt Violetta beamed at her. “And I'll pay an extra fee to make up for your lost turnover. Besides, you'll have that amazing marketing effect. Believe me, it'll boost your store no end.”

  “Sure.” Carlina didn't sound as if she believed a single word of it.

  “And if Lucio should be free, he can help as well,” Emma added.

  The whole family turned as one person and stared at Garini.

  He got up. “No promises. But I'm working on it. His boss is already detained in prison, though I don't know for how long we'll manage to keep him there.”

  “Hurray!” The Mantonis clapped their hands. “Way to go, Stefano!”

  This is worse than their criticism. Garini bent and kissed the top of his wife's head. “I've got to run. See you later.”

  He escaped into the street and took a deep, Mantoni-free breath. Master manipulators, that's what they were. Poor Carlina. He shook his head. An event for guinea pig racing inside a luxurious lingerie store. Whatever would they come up with next? Well, they had to be grateful that they hadn't come up with this brilliant promo idea when Aunt Violetta still planned to open her brothel for women. Chuckling to himself, he went once again to the Inferno 'Oro. It was high time to talk to the owner of the club, Salvatore Ditto. With all the other leads going on, he'd neglected to talk to him, even though he was one of the key persons. In his mind, he still had the image that Tonio had conjured up. During the raid, Salvatore Ditto had remained behind the bar, in the dark, polishing glasses and spewing curses. Not quite the usual behavior. Had he tried to take off all fingerprints from possible customers? It was an idea …

  When he was seated opposite Salvatore Ditto in the bar, he had the impression of talking with a malevolent barrel. The man was stocky and dark, his broad chest round, his short legs full of muscles. He eyed Garini with a frown so heavy that his eyes almost disappeared behind the eyebrows. “What is it, this game you're playing?” he asked instead of a greeting.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You're trying to let me stew, is that it? I don't like it, let me tell you that.”

  Garini said nothing.

  “You talk to everyone, my employees, my customers, everyone, but you don't talk to me. Why not? You think I got nothing to say?”

  “I'd be happy to hear everything you've got to say. May I record your statement?”

  “Yes.” Ditto fairly snapped out the word. “And now you listen. This useless cousin of mine, Bianco, is it true he's in prison?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  Garini paused. Ditto was nervous, that much was clear. He couldn't lie to him, but he certainly didn't want to allay his fears. “I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to talk about signor Brillo's statements.”

  “Ha.” The stocky man hit the table with his fist. “That's what I thought. Putting all the blame elsewhere. That's Bianco all over. He was always like this, even when he was a child. Stole the chocolate, then shoved it into your hands when the adults came. I shouldn't have trusted him. I shouldn't have allowed him to use the Inferno, my beautiful Inferno, for his schemes. But murder – oh, no. I don't do murder. I've got my standard, and that's something I won't touch. Aurora was a mean little thing, out to get the most she could, but still, it doesn't do to go around and kill people. That never pays.”

  “Did you see anything that would help us to catch the murderer?”

  Ditto shook his head. “No. I've got my little ideas, but I'm not like my dear cousin, Bianco. I don't walk around and blame people. That night, I didn't see anything. I was around, I was at the bar, everything seemed like usual.”

  “With usual, you mean there was also a bit of drug trafficking being done?”

  Ditto's gaze shifted. “I'm not responsible for the things my customers do.”

  “Did you notice a woman with a baby coming into the club?”

  Ditto stared. “A woman with a baby? You must be mad. This is not a baby care center.”

  “A woman with a bag of flour?”

  The man fairly jumped. “Yes! I did see her! Very strange it was, but I left her alone. Sometimes, it's better if you're not too curious.”

  “Do you know who she is?”

  “That young woman? I'd never seen her before.”

  “She owns the bakery across the street.”

  Ditto's mouth fell open. He stared at him like a fish out of water, then he found his voice with difficulty. “You're not saying …”

  “What?”

  “That was her?”

  “Yes.”

  “But … but her picture was completely different. And … and she didn't bring the white flower.”

  “Did you ask her here?”

  “I … no. No, I didn't.”

  Garini made a decision straight from his gut. “I think I'll tell you what I know, signor Ditto, so you'll feel free to talk.”

  The owner of the club eyed him askance. “Go ahead.”

  “We know someone approached the owner of the bakery across the street with an offer to sell. He refused.” They hadn't yet confirmed that detail, but to Garini, it was obvious. “Next, someone found out that his daughter, the co-owner, dreamed of going to the United States, and he used it to become friends with her – only via the telephone.”

  Ditto pursed his mouth but didn't say anything.

  “By pretending to be an architect, the young American asked the girl all kinds of details about her house, including the cellar.” Garini bent forward. “There are rumors that this club might have a secret exit or tunnel which ends up in the cellar of that bakery. Two exits are really not enough for the kind of business you run here, isn't that right, signor Ditto? And you were willing to go that extra mile to get access to a third one.”

  Ditto shrugged.

  “When you had the girl where you wanted her, full of romantic ideas and dreams, you arranged a meeting, here in the club. But you only had a picture of her as she looks every day, and she was supposed to bring a white flower. Instead, she made such an effort she looked totally different, and on top of that, she brought white flour instead of a flower. In English, those words sound almost the same.”

  Ditto stared at him.

  “And so, the meeting didn't take place, and unfortunately, it was the night of the raid, so you got cold feet and cut off the connection. Is that right?”

  Ditto shook his head, defeated. “It was Bianco's idea. He always had these crazy ideas. I didn't think it would work out, not at all. But he knew a young man who'd grown up in the US as a child, so he could sweet talk for hours with that American accent of his.”

  “And did the young man appear here?”

  Salvatore Ditto sighed. “No. He lives in Venice, and his car broke down. We didn't want
to cancel the meeting, as we thought it would be too disappointing for the girl. He had her just where he wanted her to be. So I was supposed to go to her and tell her about the delay, and at the same time, try to get her to talk some more about her house, but I didn't see her. I thought she'd gotten cold feet and never come at all.”

  “You never made the connection with the flour, even though she really didn't fit into the club?”

  “She was supposed to bring a white flower, uno fiore bianco! Not white flour, farina bianca! Besides, she looked completely different from her picture!” Ditto's face turned puce. “Women!”

  “And why was the tunnel so important?”

  Ditto threw up both hands. “What a question, commissario! In a nightclub, it's always good to have secret ways of escape. Above all else, my customers demand discretion. You know why – jealous wives might appear, that kind of thing. It's very expensive to create tunnels. Besides, you never know what you might dig up or destroy accidentally in the process, like power lines or water pipes. So we thought it might be worth a little effort. And the rumors about secret exits in the area were quite persistent. After all, there's no smoke without fire.” He shrugged. “It almost worked. Most of Bianco's crazy ideas work, even though one wouldn't think so.”

  Garini leaned back and took a deep breath. So this mystery was cleared up. But it didn't help him solve the murder.

  “Did you ever hear that anyone threatened Ambrosia?”

  “No.”

  “Can you imagine why anyone should have wanted her dead?”

  “No.”

  “No quarrels?”

  Ditto shrugged. “Not that I knew of.”

  “Did she get along with the other girls?”

  “I think so. They share an apartment. There's no trouble.”

  “So you have no idea at all why Ambrosia was murdered?”

  “Well, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?”

  “Yes?”

  “She was found in the arms of the man who'd killed her. I guess they had history, and maybe he was jealous. I really don't know why you keep digging around here when the facts are fairly shouting in your face.”

  Garini balled his fist. Always the same answer. Dead ends wherever he looked. Damn it all, he had no idea what to do next. “Thank you. I'll be in touch.”

  He got up, pocketed the recorder, and left the nightclub, feeling he might just as well give up. Suppose Emma had surprised her husband in the arms of the prostitute. He wouldn't put it beyond her to plunge a knife into her rival. But it would have been a spur-of-the moment thing, and in that case, she wouldn't have grabbed the knife from the bar earlier, before going in the direction of the bathroom.

  Or maybe it had been Lucio, influenced by the alcohol. Going berserk before losing consciousness, and as he honestly couldn't recall anything, he was so convincing.

  Garini sighed. Maybe he should give up, change his job. Maybe he was getting too old, seeing problems where there were none. Maybe he was too influenced by the Mantonis, too prepared to believe they couldn't have done it, when in fact, they were capable of doing absolutely anything. Look at the way they had kidnapped Lucio. No professional gang could have executed that plan in a better way. Yes, they were a scary lot, these relations of his wife. He sighed again just as he walked into the police station.

  “What's the matter, Stefano?” Gloria looked concerned. “You look as if someone died.”

  “It's nothing.”

  “Well, I'm sorry to bring bad news, but Tonio from the drug squad called again. He's really attached himself to you, hasn't he?”

  “What did he want?”

  “He said you should immediately come to the prison hospital and wait for him there.”

  “Immediately?”

  “Yep. He said it's a matter of life and death.”

  Chapter 14

  Stefano turned on his heel and walked out again. If Tonio said it was urgent, he'd better hurry. When he arrived in front of the prison hospital, Tonio was already outside, pacing on the sidewalk. “Thank God you're here,” he said between pants. “Come on in.”

  Garini followed him with long steps. They hurried through the glass doors and went up the stairs, two steps at a time. “What's happened?”

  “It's Bianco Brillo. He's got the measles.”

  Garini stopped dead. He couldn't help himself, he had to laugh. “And why is that such an emergency?”

  “Please don't stop. Come on, let's go up.” Tonio grabbed his sleeve and pulled him forward. “These childhood diseases can be quite threatening for adults, and Bianco Brillo fairly exploded with fever. No matter what they do, they can't manage to bring it down. Apparently, he's only got one kidney left, so they can't put him on the medication they would usually administer.”

  “And why do you want me? I'm not a nurse.”

  “He's asking for you. Shouting. Thrashing around. It's quite scary.”

  Garini sighed. “I hope he's not mistaking me for a priest.”

  Tonio gave him a quick look. “The idea had crossed my mind.” He opened a white door while talking.

  “Great.” When Stefano walked into the room, it smelled of flowers and dry heat from the radiator. Next to the bed was a nurse. She had her arms crossed and looked at the patient in bed with an exasperated expression.

  Bianco Brillo lay on his back, his round face red and sweaty, his hair wild. He turned his gaze to the door. “Finally.” His voice was croaky. “I have … to talk to you.”

  “I'm listening.”

  Brillo made a move with his hand. “You … you record this.” He seemed to have trouble speaking.

  “I can only record our conversation if you're of sound mind.”

  “What? What?” Brillo struggled to sit up but didn't manage. “You think I'm delusional?”

  The nurse took his wrist and felt his pulse. Then she looked at Garini. “Just start the recording, commissario, otherwise, he'll fall into a frenzy.” She sounded as if it had already happened several times.

  Garini shrugged, pulled out the recording machine, and switched it on. “All right, signor Brillo. You can go ahead.”

  Brillo briefly closed his eyes. “I … I may die. My damn kidneys … I thought I had overcome them. And now … to be stopped on the pinnacle of my success, by a child's disease. It's humiliating.”

  Garini wanted to point out that being arrested for drug peddling could hardly be described as the pinnacle of success, but he restrained himself. Instead, he said: “Signor Brillo, I'm not a priest. You may wish to talk to one instead of me.”

  Brillo jerked his arm away from the nurse. “Damn you, I don't want a priest. Those namby-pamby fellows only wave incense around and talk rot, and then they want money. I want to talk to you!” His color deepened.

  The nurse glared at Garini.

  Garini sighed and shrugged. “Please go ahead.”

  Brillo wheezed a bit, then he said. “I set him up.”

  A shiver went down Garini's back. “Who did you set up?”

  “This young man. What's his name …? Lucio?”

  “Lucio Casanuova?”

  “Yes.”

  Garini suddenly felt light and floaty. Here was the break he'd been praying for. Who'd have thought that the measles would have such an effect? “Tell me more.”

  Brillo stared ahead and didn't move. Finally, he rapped out, “Alfredo got greedy.”

  “Who's Alfredo?”

  Brillo made an impatient move with his hand. “Alfredo Anticola. Lucio's predecessor. He found out too much and had to go. But only two days later, I learned that the drug squad was hard on our heels.” His mouth worked, and his feverish eyes stared at Garini. “Sometimes, you're lucky. Sometimes, you're not. If I had known how close they were, I'd have left Alfredo alone. He was in a perfect position to take the blame. But I couldn't foresee that.”

  Tonio made an involuntary move, as if he wanted to ask something.

  Garini made an infinitesimal move with his head to sto
p him and looked back at Brillo. “So what did you do?”

  “We … we came up with the idea to find someone young, inexperienced. Someone in need of money. If I'd had a bit more time, it would have worked. Sometimes, you're unlucky.”

  Garini wondered if Brillo knew he was repeating himself. Just how clear was he in the middle of this feverish attack?

  “Don't look at me as if you doubt I'm sane. I'm all here, I can tell you.” Brillo sounded waspish.

  “Tell me more.” It took all his concentration to continue to ask open questions, nothing that could be seen as suggesting anything. He doubted that the interview would be admissible in a court case later, but he was going to do his utmost to salvage any information he could.

  Brillo chuckled. “We set up a headhunter. He was nothing of the kind. A nephew of mine, a smooth talker. He was incredible. And this young man came in like a lamb.”

  Garini clenched his teeth. The lamb had ended up in prison, thoroughly confused, shaken to the very roots of his being, his wife in a panic, the whole Mantoni clan in an uproar. But he managed to hold his peace.

  “We made sure all the critical files were related to Lucio, so he wouldn't be able to explain things away. We knew the drug squad was about to find out too much, so I had the exit strategy all planned.” Brillo chuckled. “In fact, I had three.” He sighed. “But sometimes, your luck just doesn't hold.”

  “What happened?”

  “The murder happened.”

  “Tell me more about that.”

  Brillo sighed. “You sound like a psychoanalyst. Won't you ask me how I felt about it?”

  Garini didn't hesitate. “No.”

  “That's right.” Brillo winked at him. “You're a policeman after all.”

  “I am. Continue, please.”

  “That night, we had it all planned. We knew about the raid.”

  “How did you know about it?”

  Brillo frowned. “Salvatore told me.”

  “Salvatore, the owner of the bar?”

  “Yes. He's my cousin. He overheard something.” Brillo sighed. “Salvatore is reliable, but a bit lame. Never willing to take any risks. No vision. That's what I always say. If you don't have vision, you don't go anywhere.” He stared at Garini. “Do you have vision?”