Elegant Death Read online

  Stefano narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, signor Belfiore, how do you personally feel about her death? For someone who has known Dorotea since she was a child, and who has closely worked with her for many years, you show remarkably few emotions.”

  “I say!” Fabbiola turned on the lawyer. “He's right! How can you be so calm?”

  Signor Belfiore pressed his thin lips together. “It was a great shock to me. But I don't believe in showing my feelings.”

  “Can you describe her to us?” Carlina asked. “I only met her for about five minutes. What was she like?”

  He looked at her, but his gaze didn't seem to take her in. “She was a visionary who wasn't easy to please. Even when she was still a young woman, she knew exactly what she wanted to do, and she did it without looking right or left. When she failed at something, she didn't give up, and that's what made her successful in the end.”

  “You just said you didn't want her to make the will with Enzo as the sole beneficiary?”

  “Quite right.” Belfiore nodded. “But it wasn't the first time she didn't heed my advice. In the end, I've got to make sure that the contracts I draw up reflect her wishes and that they are watertight and correct. That's my job. It's not my job to judge her decisions.”

  “But you felt bad about it?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “I told her to split up her fortune. She could easily have given a large chunk to signor Ashley without endangering the company. She's got managers in the company who've worked there for years and who would have been able to carry on in the same spirit.”

  “They can still carry on, for all I care.” Enzo flung out the words.

  “Yes, but in the end, you'll have to decide, and you'll be responsible.”

  Enzo made a grimace.

  “Why did Dorotea refuse to follow your advice?” Carlina asked.

  “She said the company needed one leader only. If there's more than one, it won't work. That was her firm belief.”

  “And she thought Enzo would be the right leader?” Carlina blinked.

  “She thought it amusing. I do not think for one minute that she expected to die anytime soon. She wanted to chuckle about it in secret, and maybe she wanted to tease signor Ashley about it at some point, and in six months, she would have changed the will again. However, now, she won't be changing her will anymore, and the joke is on her.” The lawyer's voice was bitter.

  “I. Don't. Want. It.” Enzo's voice was flat.

  The lawyer eyed him. “You can of course refuse to accept the inheritance. However, you'd be doing her a bad turn if you did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the next heir would be her cousin, Amanda, and they haven't talked for the last twenty years.”

  “Why not?” Fabbiola frowned. “How can you not talk to your cousin? It's family!”

  “You have to understand that Dorotea Di Silva's father, Carlo, died a sudden death when Dorotea was in her early twenties. His will had been drawn up years before, and it provided a certain percentage of his fortune to Amanda because her father, his brother, had died when she was still a child. In the meantime, Camicie Di Silva had grown and become quite important. Amanda insisted on getting her share paid immediately, which forced Dorotea to take up loans from the banks. It was a very difficult time for her. She begged Amanda to give her some time, as it almost ruined the company, but Amanda didn't care at all about the future of the company. Instead, she took out all she could and went to live in Canada. Dorotea has never forgiven her for that.”

  “That's right.” Enzo lifted his head. “I wanted to go there on vacation, whale watching, and she refused to set foot into the country, saying a hateful cousin lived there, and nothing would compel her to go near her.”

  The lawyer nodded. “That part of her history is the reason why she reviewed her will every six months. 'Whatever happens,' she used to say, 'Whatever happens, Amanda will never see a single penny of my money.' And so she made the craziest wills all the time. At one time, it was the owner of the coffee shop across the street, but she was in a dangerous mood that day. That will only lasted a month, I'm glad to say, and she laughed when we changed it and said she'd been a bit crazy at the time.”

  Carlina swallowed. “And no doubt you expected her to change her will again soon?”

  “Yes, of course. Particularly as it was made in the heat of the moment when she was angry. We had only changed her will two months ago. That one wasn't much better. I had resigned myself to accept that it had become a sort of hobby with her.”

  Enzo looked up. “She was angry when she made the will?”

  “Oh, yes. It was on Monday.”

  Enzo nodded. “We had a fight over the weekend.”

  “So she said.” The lawyer put the will onto the low table in front of him. “I will leave this with you; it is only a copy. My return train will leave shortly. Don't forget to call me so we can arrange a date. In case you don't have my number anymore, I've attached my card to the will.” He got up. “Thank you for your time.”

  Stefano bent forward. “You said you'd gotten Enzo's address from the police.”

  “That's right.”

  “Didn't they want to be present during your interview with him?”

  The lawyer gave him a cool look. “Oh, yes, they did. I refused.”

  “Did you tell them about the contents of the will?”

  “Yes. They had a right to know. But I really have to leave now.”

  Uncle Teo, who had not said a single word since they had entered the apartment, now opened his mouth for the first time. “I'll take you to the station,” he said.

  “There's no need; I can call a taxi.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  When the door had closed behind them, they sat and stared at each other.

  “Wow.” Carlina felt limp with shock and dropped against the cushions. “What a day. And I'd thought I would just pack the last things for our honeymoon today.”

  Enzo bent forward and took her hand. “Carlina, I beg you, please help me. It was bad enough without the will, but with it, I'm practically convicted already.”

  “Nonsense.” Carlina tried to sound encouraging. “Stefano, tell him he needn't worry. The police will look carefully into everybody's motive.”

  “Who's everybody?” Enzo said. “She didn't know anybody here in Florence. The only person she'd been in touch with was me. I was in the garden at the time of the shot, probably not far from the murderer. I had a brilliant motive. I was thinking of breaking up with her after the fight the week before. The invitation to the wedding came only three days before the event, and we only decided the day before that she would come with me. Do you really think someone from Milan knew about it and drove down four hours, just to shoot her here?”

  Carlina swallowed.

  “Are you a good shot?” Stefano asked.

  Fabbiola jumped up. “That's a good point! Enzo, you've got to tell the police you've never handled a gun in your life.”

  Enzo sighed. “That won't wash. I took shooting lessons this summer, and while I'm not a master shot, I'm not that bad, either.”

  “Why on earth did you do that?”

  He shrugged. “Dorotea. She liked it, and she took me along.”

  “Well, I never. What a strange hobby for a woman.”

  “Do you also own a gun?” Stefano asked.

  “No. I always borrowed one at the shooting range, or I used one of Dorotea's.”

  “Dorotea had guns?”

  “Oh, yes, quite a collection.”

  “I have to say I like her less and less, the more I learn about her.” Fabbiola crossed her arms.

  Stefano face was grim. “I'm afraid it looks bad, Enzo. There's a damn lot of circumstantial evidence pointing your way. Did the police ask you to stay in town?”

  Enzo shrugged. “They did. But I told them I would have to do my job. I promised to let them know my whereabouts.”

  “Did
they accept that?”

  “Well, they didn't want to. In the end, I gave them my passport and my cell phone number. They finally accepted that.”

  Fabbiola jumped up. “You've got to help your brother, Carlina. How could you even enjoy your holiday when you know he's on his way to prison?”

  “But what could we do?” Carlina lifted both hands with the palms up. “Stefano can't go out and interview people. He doesn't have any official standing!”

  “You could come to Milan with me,” Enzo said. “The murderer must have come from Milan. This is where she lived and worked, and this is where her enemies are. What's more, she rarely did anything but work. She lived for the brand, and she lived at the office. The murderer must be from the office, so if you dig around there, you're bound to find him. Or her.” A crooked grin appeared on his face. “I'll even pay the Principe di Savoia for you, or, if you prefer something more modern, the Mandarin Oriental. You can take the train or drive up with me. It's not worth while to take a car to Milan, you'll only end up being stuck in traffic jams.”

  “I will come, too.” Fabbiola nodded in a determined way.

  Carlina suppressed a shudder and shook her head. “It won't help at all, Enzo. We can't very well go all over the place and interview people. They would smell a rat immediately.”

  Enzo frowned. “You're right, that would seem a bit strange. Unless . . . yes, I've got it!” He clapped his hands. “I'll hire you as a consultant.”

  Carlina's mouth dropped open. “As a what?”

  “As a consultant! I'll hire both of you as a power couple, and I'll tell everyone at the company you're my consultants, so they'll have to answer all your questions. I've worked with consultants before; you won't believe the number of questions they ask.”

  “A consultant for what?” Stefano asked.

  Enzo lifted both hands. “Whatever.”

  Carlina bent forward. “For . . . inner-company communication. Processes and efficiency. That'll give us plenty of room to maneuver. I mean, people who hate each other will try to block each other's projects, so it's important to find out about their feelings. And at a time like this, with the murder of the CEO just days before, they'll be ready to talk about anything and everything, once they get going.”

  “And what happens when the murderer is found and we drop work from one day to the next?” Stefano shook his head.

  “Oh, don't worry about that.” Enzo made an airy move with his hands. “Most consultants hand in a big report that only the CEO is allowed to read, and afterward, it disappears in some drawer or other and is never seen again, and nothing happens. Nobody will wonder about that.”

  Fabbiola nodded. “It sounds like a good plan. Will you do it?”

  Carlina looked at her brother. “If you want us to start working as consultants, you'll have to accept the inheritance, Enzo. If you decline it, you've no right at all to change anything at the company.”

  Enzo face fell, then he shrugged. “It's not as if I had much choice. If I decline the inheritance, Stefano's boss would only think I'm trying to divert suspicion, and he'll arrest me anyway. I'll end up in prison no matter what I do. So will you do it?”

  Stefano exchanged a long look with Carlina, then he said with a sigh, “We'll do it.”

  Chapter 4

  Enzo told them to come to the office on Tuesday because he wanted to use Monday to “prepare the team,” as he called it. They agreed to meet at the office at ten o'clock.

  The offices of Camicie Di Silva were right next to Piazza Gae Aulenti, a futuristic square created in late 2012, with skyscrapers that bristled with glass and steel. When Stefano and Carlina emerged from the bustling Garibaldi subway station and saw the long elevators leading up to the piazza, Carlina swallowed. “I had no idea Italy could look so modern.”

  Once they had arrived on the huge platform, they walked along a row of shops which were built in an elliptical shape around several water features. Above them towered the skyscrapers. When they'd gone to the far end of the square, they found their goal: a modern building of eight stories, completely white, with huge glass fronts, and the logo of Camicie Di Silva on a small, white marble plate to the side of the door. They pressed a bell, and the wide doors slid to the side, allowing them to enter the gleaming marble lobby. Carlina's heart beat hard, and suddenly, she was uncomfortably aware of her new business outfit. The shoes pinched, and the pantyhose felt too hot.

  Their feet echoed in the vast hall, and a faint whiff of perfume hung in the air. In front of them, a massive counter made of chrome and pure white Carrara marble stood like a curved wing beneath the logo that hung in massive golden letters on the white wall. Camicie Di Silva.

  It was impressive and cold, and Carlina didn't want to be here. She suppressed the urge to take Stefano's hand and wondered if he kept thinking of that wind-swept lonely island where it didn't matter what clothes you wore.

  “Buongiorno.” Stefano greeted the receptionist with complete calm. “We've got an appointment with Enzo Ashley at ten. Garini Consultants.”

  “Benvenuti, signora Garini, signor Garini.” The receptionist was alert and polite. “Signor Ashley is already expecting you and told me to send you right up. Once you've signed the visitor book, you can take the elevator to your left. It's on the seventh floor.” She pointed to the side.

  Carlina signed the name of Garini with a little inner thrill. When she turned to the elevator, she exchanged a quick look with Stefano. At least they'd decided to act as a couple, so she didn't have to pretend not to care about him. He looked classy in that suit, but a bit intimidating. It reminded her of the time when she'd just gotten to known him. He'd been like a panther, quick and dangerous, and he gave her that same impression today.

  She looked at herself in the mirror of the elevator and decided that a casual style suited her much better. With a sigh, she pulled at the sleeve of her dark jacket and at the hem of her business skirt.

  “No need to be nervous,” Stefano smiled at her. “You look nice.”

  “I feel like a fraud.”

  “Just remember we're here to find a killer and to help your brother.”

  She gulped. “Yes.”

  The door gave a little ping, and they came out on the seventh floor. No carpet for the Snow Queen – that would have been too soft and cushy. White marble spread like a gleaming sea in front of them and ended in another counter, a miniature version of the one in the lobby. Enzo's secretary lifted her sleek, dark head with alacrity. “Benventui da Camicie Di Silva.” Her gaze took them in, resting for a moment in approval on the shirt Stefano had bought the day before, spending more on a single garment than in his whole life before. “Signor Ashley is already waiting for you.” She ushered them through a room with another large desk, full of files, then knocked on a door and took them through.

  “Buongiorno!” Enzo jumped up from behind a huge white desk and came to welcome them.

  The secretary closed the door behind her without making a sound.

  Enzo's welcome smile fell to the floor, and he looked around with a grimace. “Can't believe I'm here,” he said. “Feel like a fraud all the time, thinking Dorotea will walk in and ask me what the hell I'm doing at her desk.”

  The office was, of course, filled with white furniture only. The gleaming desk made of marble was virtually empty, with the exception of the latest model in laptops, also in white. Across the wall was a large screen for video conferences, and one end was filled by a round table with three leather chairs. Carlina shivered. The room gave one message, and one message only, as if it was spelled in invisible words all across the room: Power.

  For relief, she turned to the expansive panoramic windows. The sky was gray, and to the left, the slim Unicredit skyscraper dominated the view of modern Milan. Behind it, much smaller because of the distance, she saw two skyscrapers that looked as if they'd sprouted trees on every level. Carlina stretched out her arm. “Enzo, what on earth is that? The green skyscrapers over there?”


  Enzo threw them a disinterested look. “Oh, that's the bosco verticale, the vertical forest. The investor created it in such a way that huge trees could be planted all around the building, on every level. The model was tested in a wind canal that's used to simulate hurricanes, and the apartments there are super expensive. They have three full-time gardeners who care for the forest.” He stared at the view and sighed. “Dorotea once played with the idea of buying an apartment there.”

  “Why didn't she?”

  “She decided she didn't want all that uncurbed, green growth around her.” For an instant, he was silent, then he said. “I can't believe I'm standing here, in her office, talking about her like that. It feels so unreal, and I feel totally lonely, after one day already. People who used to ignore me suddenly can't waste enough smiles on me, and the people I used to joke with are stiff and uneasy. I have no idea if anybody really dares to tell me what they think. It's a nightmare, I tell you.” He rotated his shoulders uneasily, then clenched his teeth and turned to her. “Anyway, I can't help it. I guess this is better than total honesty in prison.”

  Carlina gave him a hug. “We'll find the murderer.” She said it to comfort him as much as herself.

  Enzo returned the hug. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I think you should refrain from hugging here.” Stefano's voice was dry. “We did agree that we wouldn't disclose our relationship, though anybody with eyes in their head and a sharp mind can see you're from the same gene pool.”

  “I made sure to plaster my hair to my head today,” Enzo said. “To hide the curls.”

  “You look very smart.” Carlina grinned. “And just a little bit icky.”

  “Thank you.” He made a wry face. “At least I can count on you to keep me grounded.”

  “Anytime.”

  Enzo made an inviting gesture to the leather chairs. “Sit down. I'll explain a bit about the set-up, and then, we'll have to face the lions. I'll take you on a tour around the department, will present you to the directors, and finally, the production director will show you around the workshop. Most of the production is done in Turkey, but of course we have our own studio here for quick alterations and to create the samples for the fashion shows in January and September. That's when they work all through the night, but thank God we have a few comparatively quiet weeks now.”