Elegant Death Page 20

  Then, with a blind movement, Lorenzo took two tottering steps forward, held out his hand, managed to grab one of the black leather chairs, and dropped into it. He pulled out a big white handkerchief and mopped his face with it. “Signor Belfiore?” he asked with a shaky voice. “But… I had lunch with him. He was completely all right when we separated.”

  Cervi pounced on him like a tiger. “When was this?”

  Lorenzo Vitali stared at him. “At one-thirty. We only did a short lunch because we had the meeting with the supplier scheduled for one-thirty.”

  “If you had the meeting scheduled for one-thirty, you probably left him before that time, didn't you?”

  Vitali shook his head. “No. I remember looking at my watch as we came into the building. We'd been to the Mexican restaurant across the piazza, and I was in a hurry because I didn't want to be late.”

  “Did he say what he was going to do?”

  “He said he wanted to talk to signor Ashley.”

  Carlina could feel the blood draining from her face.

  All eyes turned to Enzo who slowly shook his head. “I didn't see him.”

  Liza hiccuped. “He's right. Signor Belfiore didn't come to the office.”

  Cervi turned to her. “Were you at your desk the whole time?”

  Liza nodded in slow motion. “Oh, yes. We had all this commotion going on.”

  Lorenzo Vitali frowned. “What commotion?”

  Enzo made a weak move with his hand. “Alessandro Stellini came to beat me up. He'd heard about the plans to change the brand name of Camicie d'Oro.”

  Franco di Rosa's head shot up. “You plan to change the brand name of Camicie d'Oro?”

  “Not I. Dorotea did. He learned about it, rushed to Milan, and came to tell me what he thought about me.”

  “More than that,” Liza added with real anger in her voice. “He rushed past me, threw himself on signor Ashley and tried to strangle him. Fortunately, Signor Garini stopped him.”

  Bellini sighed and looked up from his fingernails. “A true hero. The only complaint I have is that he tied up the villain with my scarf. Which will never be the same again, I regret to say.”

  Marco Riva frowned at Stefano. “Could you please give us a comprehensive account of what happened? I find it hard to see my way with all these unimportant details.”

  Stefano didn't hesitate. “Liza found the body of signor Belfiore at two-thirty in the women's bathroom.”

  Bellini's eyes widened, and deep in them, something glittered. “In the women's bathroom? What on earth was he doing there?”

  “I imagine he was deposited there after his death. It's the closest door to the staircase, and as there are few women on the seventh floor, the chances were high he wouldn't be discovered immediately.”

  Marco Riva frowned. “You sound mighty cool, as if you do this kind of thing every day.”

  “He does.” Cervi cut in. “He's an investigating officer at the Florentine homicide department.” A malignant gaze revealed he was quite happy with blowing Stefano's cover.

  “My, my.” Bellini clapped his hands. “How exciting. So you were here undercover?” He turned to Carlina. “And you, my love? Are you a policewoman, too? And you two aren't really married after all, but only pretending to be because of this job? You surprise me. I could have sworn there were violins hanging above you two.”

  Carlina bit back a smile and exchanged a quick glance with Stefano. “We are indeed married,” she said with a lift of her chin and left it at that.

  “So we need to know who had an alibi for the time between one-thirty and two-thirty today,” Stefano summed up.

  Silvio Orlando and Lorenzo Vitali looked at each other. “We were both with the supplier during the whole time. You might wish to take down his name,” Silvio said. “It's ENCO technologies. They're from Bologna.”

  Carlina breathed a sigh of relief. She liked both men and was happy to cross them off the list of suspects. Unless two different people had killed Dorotea and her lawyer, but she didn't think this was very likely.

  Marco Riva and Franco di Rosa looked at each other. “We were together during the whole time, too,” Franco di Rosa said. “We've been discussing the budget for next year from one-fifteen until you called us.”

  Marco Riva nodded. “I can confirm that.”

  Franco di Rosa made a grimace. “I'd never have thought I'd be grateful for a budget meeting one day. Just goes to show.”

  “And I . . .” Benito said. “When I left your office, signor Ashley, I returned to my own and tried to find expert advice on the internet on how to get creases out of a Prada scarf.”

  “Did anybody see you there?” Cervi asked.

  “I don't think so.” Benito slowly shook his head.

  Marco di Riva narrowed his eyes. “How was signor Belfiore strangled?”

  Benito eyed him with acute dislike. “Not with my Prada scarf, if that's what you're trying to insinuate.”

  The finance director lifted his chin. “I'd just like to know where it is right now. You're not often seen without a scarf.”

  Cervi shook his head. “The victim was strangled with bare hands.”

  Liza whimpered.

  Enzo took a long look at Marco Riva. “Working with you is about as comfortable as swimming in a shark tank,” he said, then turned to Cervi. “I stayed in my office the whole time from when you left to chase Stellini until Liza discovered the body. Carlina Ash– I mean Garini is my witness to that.”

  Liza stiffened. “Does this mean everybody's got an alibi but me?” She lifted both hands as if to ward off a blow. “It wasn't me! Franco, they want to pin it onto me, but it wasn't me! I swear! I'm the only one without an alibi, but there are tons of people in this building! Tons! Anyone could have murdered him.”

  Franco put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his chest, ignoring the astonished glances from the directors. Then he glared at Cervi. “Don't you dare accuse her. She didn't do anything wrong.”

  “They'll arrest me! And before that, I'll be killed! The murderer will get to me! To us, Franco. Do something! You have to keep us safe! The police are useless! Useless!” Liza's hysterics came muffled from his crisp white shirt.

  “Interesting sequence of activity, that,” Benito Bellini said to Stefano. “I say, have you ever arrested a corpse?”

  “Shut up!” Franco glared at him. “You have no feelings at all, for all your feminine wiles.”

  Bellini put a hand over his heart as if he had been shot. “Ah, no! How can you say this to me? When I'm the most sensitive person in the room!”

  “Cut it out, Benito.” Carlina gave him a nudge with her elbow, then faced the directors. “In the beginning, we focused on all of you as possible suspects.”

  “On us?” Silvio Orlando frowned. “Why on earth?”

  “Because you were closest to Dorotea and because you alone knew she would spend the weekend in Florence.”

  “I'd say Enzo Ashley was the person who knew best where she would be.” Marco Riva's tone was silky.

  Carlina held her breath. For an instant, it was so silent they heard the wail of a siren outside as if it was in the room.

  Enzo gave his finance director another long look. Then he said, “I was not going to discuss this in front of all the others, but after what you just said, I feel we can put everything out into the open. You might be interested to learn that the Chicago Consulting Group received a special auditing request from Dorotea several weeks ago. This morning, I got the final confirmation that there were fraudulent actions on the company accounts, and that the director of finance is irrevocably involved.” He nodded at Cervi. “If you still have a pair of handcuffs available, you might put them to good use now.”

  Marco Riva had turned white, but he didn't move.

  Benito danced toward the door. “Hold on a second! Just let me get my golden handcuffs! I feel they are singularly appropriate to the occasion.” He beamed at Marco. “Aren't they, dear?”


  There was no warning. One moment, Marco di Riva stood like a tree, and the next, he'd swung out his fist like a sledgehammer.

  However, before it could touch Benito's stomach, he jumped back, flinging both arms up. “Help,” he screamed in an exaggerated high voice. “The fraudulent director of finance is also violent. Who'd have thought he could move so fast?”

  Sergio and Stefano jumped forward, each grabbing one of Marco Riva's arms.

  “I can't stand that little swine,” Riva said between clenched teeth. “Take him away from my eyes, or I'll . . .”

  “I don't think you can ask for anything right now.” Enzo glared at him. “You don't seem to have understood your situation.”

  That earned him a furious look. “I'd just like to point out that signor Ashley here started his totally unbiased accusations the minute we had him in a corner.” He looked at Cervi. “You'd better make sure to look into his alibi closely. If I'm not mistaken, she,” he made a disdainful movement with his chin to Carlina, “is his sister, and you can smoke that alibi in a pipe and forget it.”

  Benito swished around and stared at Carlina, then at Enzo. “Of course! That's why I thought I'd seen you before!”

  “You didn't.” Carlina said. “On the contrary. You said you hadn't met me in a single one of all your previous lives.”

  One eloquent move with his hand wiped her memory away, but before he could say something, Cervi cut in. “That's enough.” He looked at his subordinates. “Take signor Riva down and hand him over to the local police. They can take over. It's not our case. I'll call the Milan colleagues while you're on your way, so they'll know why. Then come back. We need to discuss more details.”

  Silvio Orlando took a deep breath. “What about us? Can we go?”

  “Yes, you can go.”

  “I mean, really go? Leave the building? Go home?”

  “Yes. Just don't go out of town without letting me know.”

  The directors trailed out, looking like wrung-out towels. Carlina felt sorry for them, but she imagined they'd had this feeling after each meeting with Dorotea before, so they probably had recuperative forces stowed somewhere deep inside them. At least she hoped so.

  As soon as the door had closed behind them all and she was left alone, she sank onto one of the leather chairs and closed her eyes with a sigh. Her thoughts scrambled all over the place, without order, without reason, but she let them drift. She was too exhausted to rationalize, too overwhelmed by all that had happened.

  All the suspects had alibis. All but Liza, but she couldn't imagine her strangling a man. Anyway, now that they'd learned about the hidden GPS device in Dorotea's clothes, the case had completely shifted. They'd been concentrating on the wrong batch of people. All along. Her heart sank when she remembered all they'd done, all they'd discussed. For nothing. Yes, the murder had been carefully planned, just as they had assumed, but the murderer didn't need to know Dorotea's plans beforehand at all. He'd just followed her and had waited for a good opportunity. And her marriage to Stefano in Florence had been the perfect opportunity. Perfect because it was far away from Milan, and perfect because Enzo was a good culprit.

  She frowned. What was this she'd just thought? How did the murderer know that Enzo was a good culprit? Had the murderer known about the will? If yes, things pointed to signor Belfiore. He knew. Who else could have known about the will? She had no idea, and her brain refused to work.

  Carlina sighed. She was tired and hungry and exhausted from all the emotions and fights today. Madonna, what a life. Was working in an office always like this? What had Enzo called it? A shark tank. Everyone out to secure the biggest chunk of the cake for themselves, no matter how many people and principles they had to elbow to the side. She shuddered. Thank God she had Temptation, her own store, her own universe. She was looking forward to returning to Florence as soon as this was over. Florence might not be the hub of everything, but it felt a lot more comfortable. A sudden yearning for the gently rolling hills of Tuscany came over her. She'd go for a long drive with Stefano, across the hills, enjoying the last warmth of autumn, as soon as she was back, as soon as the case was solved.

  She stopped herself, and her eyes flew open, fixing themselves onto the two green skyscrapers of the bosco verticale, standing not far away, in the hazy smog of Milan. What if they never found out who'd killed Dorotea? It would condemn Enzo to continue his life as CEO of Camicie Di Silva. Actually, even though Enzo would hate it, it was still the best fate to befall him. If she knew Cervi, he would not accept keeping this case unresolved. It would be a smudge on his record, a black mark in his reputation, and he would prefer to imprison someone, anyone, before he would let that happen.

  Carlina shuddered. No, she couldn't accept that. She had to think. She closed her eyes again and pressed her hands against her temples. Think! Something nudged her memory. Something about Enzo when she'd thought about the wedding. Something had struck a bell deep inside her. Yes, that was right; she was on the right track. Why should the murderer wish to implicate Enzo? Could it be because -

  “Are you asleep?”

  The voice made her jump. Her eyes flew open, and she stared straight at Cervi. “No. I'm thinking.” But it's gone. She had been close to discovering something, but now, it had slipped out of reach again. She could have stamped her foot in vexation.

  “I'd like to ask you to leave this room.”

  She sat up straight. “Why?”

  “Because I need it to discuss the case as soon as your husband and Sergio return.”

  Carlina fixed him with a clear gaze. “I think it would be to your advantage to let me join in the discussion.”

  “We never admit civilians into our internal discussions.”

  “Yes, you do.” Carlina was glad Stefano had told her as much. “When you need expert advice.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “And you are an expert?”

  “Indeed I am.” She didn't elaborate. Instead, she said. “Besides, in any sort of brainstorming project, mixed genders are of advantage.”

  “Oh, really? Why is that?” His voice sounded way too ironic.

  “Because a good mix brings the best results.” She'd read that somewhere, numerous times, but the male population of Italy mostly managed to ignore that well-documented fact.

  “I still fail to see what kind of expert you are.”

  Carlina got up, so she was able to look at him on eye level. “I don't think anybody explained to you what Stefano and I have been doing here these last days.”

  He frowned. “Well?”

  “Enzo officially employed us as consultants with the goal to improve the inner-company communication.”

  “Good God. Whose idea was that?”

  “Mine.” Carlina continued before he could stop her, “And every consultant first documents the status quo before he or she recommends a course of action.”

  He eyed her. “So?”

  “So we talked to all these people. Numerous times. And we learned quite a few details that are important for this case.”

  “Stefano can tell me all about them.”

  “He doesn't know them all.” For once, she managed to lie without blushing.

  “What?” He eyed her. “Married for less than a week and already, you've got secrets from each other?”

  She ignored his tone. “I haven't yet had the time to bring him up to date on everything.” Hopefully, she could tell Stefano about his lack of knowledge before Cervi talked to him about it.

  “Look, even if I should accept you as an expert, though heaven knows that's a far-fetched description, I can't have you joining in our internal meetings when you're the sister of the main suspect.”

  “He's not the main suspect anymore.” Carlina wanted to shake him. Did he ever manage to change his mind once an idea had settled into his brain? “Remember the GPS device? He wouldn't have needed it.”

  Cervi shrugged. “Camouflage.”

  “Nonsense. If he'd planted it as camouflage, he'd have
long ago found a way to draw your attention to it.”

  He sighed. “You're too stubborn for your own good. I really don't know how I should ever be able to justify you joined our discussion.”

  Carlina cheered inwardly. Now he was looking for reasons to justify her presence. Excellent. But before she could reply, Stefano's voice came from the door. “Besides all the knowledge she gathered in the last days, she'll be able to bring a female point of view to the table. You shouldn't underestimate that.”

  Cervi looked up. “Oh, so it's you, is it? Have you managed to get rid of Riva?”

  “Yes,” Sergio answered while closing the door behind him. The cut on his face had stopped bleeding, but he still had a rakish look on his round face. “Signor Riva tried to wrestle us down when we were on the stairs, so we accepted Benito Bellini's offer after all. They took him away, golden handcuffs and all.” He grinned.

  Carlina couldn't resist. “I hope they won't scratch them. Benito will never get over it if they do.”

  Sergio laughed and dropped into one of the leather chairs. “They're also looking for Stellini. I just hope we'll find him soon. I'm putting my money on him. He had a powerful motive for killing both of the victims, and no alibi to speak of. After all, Dorotea cheated him out of his inheritance with the help of her lawyer, and it sounds plausible he took his revenge on both of them.”

  Stefano slowly shook his head. “I'm not so sure. If he'd really murdered Dorotea, he wouldn't have come charging into the office with steam coming from his nose and ears. Instead, he would have kept his distance, would have preferred to lie low. As it is, he drew all the attention onto him, and that would have been too stupid.”

  “I think so, too.” Carlina pulled out a chair for her husband and took the place next to him. If Cervi wanted to get rid of her, he would have to carry her out, heavy leather chair and all. “But on the other hand, I admit to feeling discouraged. We had concentrated on the inner circle of directors because we thought they were the only ones who knew where she would spend the weekend. Instead, we learn about the GPS device, and that has blown the case wide open. Anyone could have killed her.”