Tricky Death Read online

  Sergio heaved his massive bulk out of a chair and looked at him with something akin to pity on his face. “It's not good, I'm afraid.”

  “So I gathered.”

  “Sit down.”

  Garini threw himself into the chair Sergio indicated. He just wished Sergio would get on with it. Nothing could be quite as bad as the horrible things he was imagining.

  “I got a call at one o'clock this morning, from the colleagues over at the drug squad.”

  “The drug squad?” Immediately, terrible scenarios rose up in Garini's mind. But how could Lucio be involved? He'd always pegged him as a cautious type, conservative to boot – if his temper didn't get the better of him.

  “For quite some time, they've had a certain nightclub under observation for drug smuggling.”

  A nightclub! Garini stiffened. Had Lucio told Emma the truth, then? Did he really spend his business evenings at nightclubs? But what kind of business was that?

  Sergio looked at him. “The club is called the Inferno d'Oro. Ever heard of it?”

  “No.”

  “Well, they don't exactly do any advertising. It's by invitation only. Tonight, the drug squad got a tip-off and stormed the place, just around midnight. They didn't find any trace of the dealers they had hoped they would catch. However, they found … a body.”

  “A body?”

  “Yes.” Sergio heaved a sigh that made his whole bulk tremble. “And it's a real pity because she had just become very useful to us.”

  Stefano got there with lightning speed. “You mean she was an informant? And she was killed?”

  “Yes. She was one of the regular prostitutes at the club. Seems the big boss favored her, but somehow, the relationship deteriorated, and she decided to get back at him by sharing a bit of inside information with the police.”

  “How much did she already share with us?” He was all policeman now.

  “Enough to make it clear that our suspicions of the club were well-founded. It was a hub, a center of the action when it came to drug dealing, but we don't know where the material comes from, and most of all, we still have no idea who pulls the strings and organizes the import. That's why the drug squad had it under observation. Last night, the prostitute sent them a sign they'd arranged to storm the place. She'd promised they would find evidence, and a direct trace to the one in charge.”

  “And?”

  Sergio gave another gutsy sigh. “And they did storm the place, and the only thing they found was the prostitute herself – stabbed.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yes.” Sergio gave a forlorn look at his hands, folded in his lap.

  “Do you mean the place was empty?”

  “Oh, no, not empty. There were quite a few people, and we have to check all their backgrounds carefully. It's too early to say exactly what happened. We might still salvage something. Then again, we might not. Our most important source for information died tonight.”

  “And Lucio was one of the people you caught in the net?”

  “Hmm.” Sergio made a grimace and looked at his folded hands as if they could save him.

  “Sergio?”

  “Yes?” Again, he didn't look up.

  “What are you hiding from me?”

  Sergio winced. “This Lucio Casanuova, he's a true Mantoni family member?”

  “He married into the clan. Just like I did, but his marriage to Emma already took place in September, one and a half years ago.” He was not going to forget it. The day after Emma's and Lucio's marriage, he had met Carlina for the first time.

  “Yes.” Sergio swallowed. “They're quite clannish, aren't they?”

  “Very.” With every word, Garini's discomfort grew. “Now stop dawdling and tell me what happened.”

  Sergio squared his shoulders. “I'll tell you what I know, but you must remember this is all secondhand knowledge. The drug squad gave me the information as soon as I'd arrived on the scene.”

  “Got it.”

  “Well, they sealed off the two entrances they knew of – one in the back of the building, one in the front. The club, by the way, is not out in the country, as usual, but smack in the city center, just one street over from the Santa Maria Novella station. From the outside, you'd never be able to tell it's a glittering nightclub. Nothing but tall walls, a bit of graffiti, a dented dumster that reeks of rotting meat, and a small door with peeling paint.”

  “Sergio?”

  “Yes?”

  “Spare me the poetic descriptions. Please.”

  “Oh. Right.” Sergio cleared his throat. “Where was I?”

  “At the door.”

  “Right. The door. Well, you have to knock in a certain way, and the kind of knock changes regularly. We haven't yet been able to make out by which means of communication they share the knocking code. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. The drug squad was aware that there might be other exits, secret ones, and they did all they could in advance, poring over old maps, analyzing neighboring buildings, checking everything, but so far, they were unable to find anything.” He looked up for a fleeting glance, then down again. “Actually, there is a rumor about a sort of hidden cellar or tunnel or something, leading up to the club. And you know that with the history we have here in Florence, it's not totally unlikely. Just think of the Vasari Corridor, for example.”

  “The Vasari Corridor is not a tunnel.”

  “Well, obviously not, but it's a secret way that even manages to cross the river, so who knows what else the Medici might have built?”

  Garini put his temper on a tight leash. “Let's not discuss the possible activities of the Medicis right now. You were still at the entrance of the club.”

  “Oh, yes. Well, with the information supplied by the prostitute, whose name was Ambrosia Amore, by the way, the -”

  “You're kidding me.”

  Sergio shrugged. “Well, we assume it's a nom de plume. She wasn't prepared to give anyone her real name.”

  “All right. Sorry for interrupting.”

  “So, Ambrosia Amore gave the secret knocking code to the drug squad and told them to come at midnight sharp.”

  “Sounds like a novel.”

  “What do you want?” Sergio spread out his hands. “Life is stranger than fiction, you know that as well as I do.” He expelled a gusty sigh. “Where was I?”

  “At the entrance. Where we've been for a solid five minutes.”

  Sergio eyed him. “You're not losing your temper with me, are you? Because if you are, I'd prefer not to be around.”

  “I'm not losing my temper, but I'd dearly love to know why you considered it necessary to arrest Lucio Casanuova right away, and it seems we're not getting to that point anytime soon.”

  Sergio gulped. “I'm getting there.”

  “Let me make a guess to get us forward. The door opened to the right knock, and the drug squad exploded in.”

  “Right.” Sergio nodded. “After that, it was pandemonium. Someone shot at the light, which went out. People screamed and ran everywhere. The drug squad had left the entrance open, which was very convenient, because it was so small the guests of the club came out one by one and could easily be caught by the welcoming crew they'd installed there for that purpose. The drug squad had also counted on little light, so they'd come equipped with powerful flashlights. They found spilled drinks, even a rat or two -”

  “What? In the middle of the action?”

  “Yes. Strange, eh? I'd thought that rats knew how to make themselves scarce in times of upheaval. But anyway, in less time than you'd think possible, the whole place was empty. Only the owner, Salvatore Ditto, remained. He installed himself behind the bar, polishing cocktail glasses and spewing curses at the police for destroying his business.”

  “He continued polishing glasses?”

  “Oh, yeah. As if his life depended on it. But they ignored him and did a careful search of the premises. Behind a door that was difficult to be found because it was painted in dark gray, jus
t like all the other walls in the building, they found a secret place.”

  “What sort of secret place?”

  “The kind of place where you can meet up with a prostitute, with a big bed and nothing much else.”

  “I see. Was it locked?”

  “Yes. Locked from the inside. We found the key in Ambrosia Amore's pocket. The staff all have keys to the secret rooms. One of the other girls have us hers, and this is how we got in. On the bed, we found Ambrosia Amore, stabbed in the back.”

  “I still don't see where Lucio comes in.”

  Sergio swallowed visibly. “Lucio Casanuova was also in the room.” His voice sounded as if he wished himself far away.

  “In the same room as the dead prostitute?” Garini's heart sank.

  “Yes.” Sergio lifted a trembling hand to his brow. “You know what? I think I'm starting a fever. I feel very strange. Very strange indeed. And there's also this horrible itch on my scalp.”

  “Oh, no, my pal.” Garini grimly shook his head. He knew his colleague's tendency to succumb to every illness under the sun. “Don't even think of it. You're not becoming ill, and you're now going to tell me exactly how you happened to find Lucio.”

  “But I'm telling you!” It sounded like a wail.

  “So far, you're only giving me a lyrical description of a nightclub with gory details like rotten smells and rats, but you're nowhere near giving me the information I want.” Garini got up and bent over the desk. “What about Lucio? He was in the room with the dead woman, you said?”

  “Yes.” Sergio swallowed. “In the same room.”

  “Where exactly was he?”

  “On … on the bed.”

  “On the bed?” Garini blinked.

  “Yes. Actually, in her arms.”

  Garini was speechless. Then he managed to repeat what he thought he'd heard. “He held the dead prostitute in his arms?”

  “Yes.” Sergio made a grimace.

  “Are you trying to tell me kindly that Lucio is also dead?”

  “Oh, no, no. I wouldn't do that for the world. No, no, he's fine. Totally unharmed. Well, if you don't count …” Sergio's voice trailed off.

  “Don't count what?” He was going to strangle Sergio if he drew this out another minute.

  “Well, the alcohol.”

  “What alcohol?”

  “He's got severe alcohol poisoning. In fact, he was senseless. Still is, no doubt.”

  “You mean he held a dead prostitute in his arms, so dead drunk he didn't even notice?”

  “Er.” An embarrassed flush covered Sergio's pale cheeks. “Yes.”

  “And that's why you arrested him?”

  “No.” Sergio shook his head with a sorrowful mien. “No, that's not why I arrested him.”

  “Sergio. Please tell me now without further ado. This is killing me. What made you arrest him on the spot?”

  “I …” Sergio made another grimace. “I arrested him because his fingerprints were on the knife that was stuck in Ambrosia Amore's back.”

  Chapter 3

  Carlina woke with a start. Emma in tears at her door – had that been a dream or reality? Last night’s events came back with clarity. No, it hadn't been a dream. A pity. In slow motion, she lifted Stefano's arm that held her close to him and slipped out of bed. He didn't move. If he slept like this, not even waking up when she left the bed, he was exhausted. When had he returned from the station? And why hadn't he woken them and told them what he'd learned? With a frown, she left the bedroom and softly closed the door behind her. On the sofa sat Emma, looking like a disgruntled beauty queen. She was nursing Zoe, but her focus was on a piece of paper she held in her hands. “Have a look at this!” Her voice was contemptuous.

  “Buongiorno to you, too.” Carlina yawned and took the paper, recognizing Stefano's distinctive crawl. “Lucio didn't have an accident, and he's not with another woman. More later.” She swallowed, sensing all the things Garini had left out. However, for the sake of Emma, she managed to fake a smile. “But that's good news, isn't it?”

  “Not really.” Emma grimaced. “If he's healthy, and if he's not with another woman, then where the heck is he? Why didn't he come home last night? And why didn't Stefano give us more information? I'm sure he knows more, but he's holding back. This isn't reassuring at all.” Her voice had risen, and Zoe lifted her head and made a whimpering sound. Immediately, Emma bent over her. “Ssshhh, my love,” she whispered. “It'll be all right.” Then she turned back to Carlina. “Would you come over to my place? I dread being alone, waiting for Lucio to call or come back.”

  Carina hesitated, but only for a moment. This was a crisis, and she had to stick with Emma, even though her luxurious lingerie store in the historic center of Florence called for her attention. But family came first. “Of course. My assistant can handle the morning on her own, but it's possible that I'll have to go there later today.”

  Emma just nodded, wrapped up Zoe, who was now fed and sleepy, and got up. “Then let's go. Zoe is always like sunshine in the mornings, so we'll have a few quiet hours.”

  Emma lived in the house next door, together with the biggest part of the Mantoni family. The apartments spread over four floors, two on each side, and even Carlina's and Stefano's apartment formed part of it, but for reasons lost in antiquity, they only had access to their apartment from the neighboring house. This was its main redeeming feature, according to Stefano, or he would never have agreed to move into the apartment. Carlina hoped the midnight visit from last night wouldn't change his mind.

  They opened the heavy wooden door of Via delle Pinzochere 10 and were greeted by an angry hiss and a shout. “Close the door, quick!”

  Speechless, Carlina stared at the assembled family members who milled through the foyer of the old house. The younger ones were on their knees, and the eldest were arranged on the stairs like generals overseeing the battle field. They all seemed to be looking for something.

  “Stop standing there. Come in and close the door!” Aunt Violetta, the family matriarch bellowed. Her loud voice belied her age. At ninety-nine, there was nothing brittle about her. Instead, she was massive and strong, and usually in a wheelchair, but today, she stood on the lowest step of the staircase, radiating energy.

  Carlina obeyed with alacrity, pulling Emma and Zoe with her.

  “Ahhh, here's my little girl.” Benedetta, Emma's mother, came forward with a fond smile and outstretched arms to collect her granddaughter. “How are you, my sweet?” she cooed. Her signature red lipstick shone through the dim foyer.

  Zoe gurgled.

  “Can someone please bring more light?” Fabbiola, Carlina's mother, was also on the staircase, two steps above Aunt Violetta. She had her voluminous skirts gathered tight around her and looked like an indignant stork. “We won't find him in this murky light.”

  “Find whom?” Carlina looked around.

  Ernesto, the youngest in the house with his nineteen years, who had crawled around on the floor, now sat back on his haunches and drew his hand through his flaming red hair. “Gustavo II,” he said with a grin.

  Carlina blinked. “Gustavo II? Who on earth is that?”

  Ernesto's grin widened. “He's a guinea pig.”

  “And a pedigree one,” Aunt Violetta snapped. “I paid a lot of money for him, and we can't simply lose him, not after last night's –“ She stopped short and exchanged a look of conspiracy with Uncle Teo, the patriarch of the family.

  He stood in front of the red-painted door that led to his apartment and surveyed the family with a sorrowful look on his face. “Gustavo II can't be far,” he said. “I'm sure we'll find him soon. After all, there's not much room to hide here.”

  “Since when do we have guinea pigs?” Carlina asked.

  “Since Aunt Violetta decided it's the next big thing.” Fabbiola snapped.

  “The next big thing?” Emma drawled while caressing her daughter's downy hair. “In what way?”

  “It's my new business venture.” Au
nt Violetta lifted her wrinkled chin.

  Carlina held her breath.

  “And it's so much cooler than opening up a brothel for women!” Ernesto said from the floor, still grinning from ear to ear.

  Benedetta turned on her youngest, her red mouth pulled down at the corners. “Ernesto!”

  “What?” Ernesto lifted both hands. “That's what Aunt Violetta wanted to do before she started on the guinea pigs.”

  Fabbiola shuddered. “Thank God she gave up on that project.”

  Ernesto nodded. “HR problems,” he said wisely. “Lack of specialized personnel.”

  “Ernesto!” Benedetta glared at him.

  “What's HR?” Uncle Teo asked.

  “Human Resources,” Carlina answered. “But I still don't follow you. What exactly is this new project that involves guinea pigs?”

  Fabbiola shuddered. “Gambling.” Her voice was deep and sounded as if it came from a crypt.

  Carlina's jaw fell. “What? Gambling with guinea pigs?”

  “Yes.” Aunt Violetta beamed at her. “It's totally innovative. I'm a start-up company, and I plan to ask for funding by the state.”

  Carlina swallowed. She'd thought that nothing could be more exotic than planning a brothel for women.

  “I don't understand why your projects always have to be illegal.” Fabbiola sniffed. “Why can't you take up a nice hobby like knitting? Something that fits your age.”

  “It's not a hobby! It's a business venture.” Aunt Violetta drew herself up. “And it's not illegal. In fact, Italy has made great progress in amending its gambling legislation in the last years. It started in 2007, and the last amendment came in 2012, when slot machines were allowed.”

  Fabbiola stared at her. “Do you want to use the guinea pigs in slot machines?”

  “Of course not! That would be cruelty to animals. I'm just citing an example to show you I did my research.”