Tricky Death Read online

  Piedro shrugged. “That they have no taste?”

  Garini suppressed a sigh. “It shows they don't mind spending money on details, and most of all, that they have the money to spend.”

  The door opened, and a rubber ball bounced in. Stefano blinked. Not a rubber ball but a small man in his late fifties. A round face, lots of black hair, a wide smile. In fact, he looked exactly like Ernie from Sesame Street, and he seemed to have the same kind of optimistic attitude: always smiling, always beaming. He darted to Stefano, shook his hand with enthusiasm, almost wrenching his arm from its socket, did the same with Piedro, and dropped into a chair. “I'm delighted you've come.” He spoke in an exaggerated way, with a strong accent that sounded as if he'd grown up somewhere in the east of Europe.

  “That's an unusual reaction when being visited by the homicide department.” Stefano's voice was dry.

  “But no, signori, no!” Brillo made a wide move with his arms. “You are the heroes, you are saving the city from chaos and disorder. I so much appreciate all you do. What can I do for you? Would you like a donation for better equipment for your police station?”

  The more enthusiastic Brillo became, the less Stefano believed him. “No, that's not why we came. This is my assistant, Piedro Cervi. We would like to tape our conversation with you. Is that all right?”

  Brillo beamed at him. “But of course, of course! It's a pleasure to see how well the police work.”

  Gag. “We've come in connection with the murder of Ambrosia Amore.”

  Brillo's eyes goggled, and for once, the smile fell from his broad face. “Who? What murder?”

  “Last night, a prostitute by the name of Ambrosia Amore was stabbed at the night-club, Inferno d'Oro.”

  Brillo opened his eyes wide. “But how terrible. The poor girl.”

  “Did you know her?”

  Brillo shrugged. “Well, I'd seen her at the club. We regularly have to go there, you see, to entertain customers.”

  “And you knew her well enough to know her name?”

  Brillo nodded. “I always make a point of remembering people's names. It brings you better service.”

  Stefano decided to be brutal, to shake him up a bit. “Did you need the services of a prostitute?”

  “Ah, commissario, you are mistaking my words! Of course I'm not interested personally, but my customers – well, that's a different matter.”

  Stefano didn't react to Brillo's ingratiating manner. Instead, he continued at his most wooden, “I know you were at the Inferno d'Oro yesterday. Please describe the evening in your own words.”

  “There's nothing much to say, commissario. It was an evening like any other. We went out to dinner, then -”

  “Who's we?”

  “Well, myself, three of my employees, and two representatives of a prospective customer.”

  “I'd like to have their names, please.”

  “Of course! You know my name already. My employees, Lucio Casanuova, and the brothers Domenico and Giorgio Turati.” He hesitated. “I want to fully cooperate with the police, but you have to know that officially, I never gave you the names of my customers. They would not appreciate it.”

  “We never reveal our sources.”

  “That's settled, then.” Brillo leaned back. “The company is called Super A2Z, and we had dinner with the CEO, Marco Darani, and the head of the purchasing department, Angelo Zino.”

  “Please go on.”

  “We met for dinner sometime around eight, at the restaurant Cinque Stelle Rosse. It's a very good restaurant. Do you know it, commissario?”

  “I'd rather not discuss the quality of restaurants right now, if you don't mind, signor Brillo.”

  “Oh, all right. I can see you're highly efficient, no time for small talk.” Brillo winked at Stefano. “That night, the service was particularly quick, so we finished around nine-thirty and went straight to the club.” He spread out his hands. “It's not what one wishes to do, but the customer is king, you understand.”

  “When did you arrive at the club?”

  “That must have been a quarter to ten or thereabouts; it's not that far from the restaurant.”

  That corresponds to Lucio's times. “And then?”

  “Well, we had a drink or two and watched the show.”

  “When did you leave?”

  “Oh, commissario, I'm not sure. Probably around eleven or so? I was a bit tired.”

  “How about your guests and employees? Did they all leave at the same time?”

  “Oh, no, commissario. What are you thinking?” Brillo winked. “In clubs like these, you don't ask if someone disappears and doesn't come back.”

  “Who left first?”

  “Let me see – I think it was our latest employee, Lucio Casanuova.”

  “When was that?”

  “Really, I have no idea at all, commissario. It's not as if your eyes are glued to your watch when you're sitting in a club.”

  “No. I see. And then?”

  “My customers got up. Marco Darani was the next to leave the table, shortly followed by Angelo Zino.”

  “Do you know if they left the club?”

  Brillo winked again. “I doubt it, commissario.”

  “Please excuse me a moment, I just have to check something.” Stefano pulled out Tonio's printed e-mail with all the names and checked it. Both of the men from Super A2Z were listed. That was a sign in their favor. If you commit murder, you don't hang around for the razzia to come and pick you up.

  “So you were left with two employees?”

  “That's right. And then the brothers left. As I said, I was tired, so I didn't stay much longer after that.”

  Again, Stefano checked his list. The names of Brillo's employees didn't show.

  “Did you notice anything unusual during that evening?”

  “I wish I had, commissario. But I didn't see anything at all.”

  And that might be true or not. Stefano bent forward. “Tell me a bit about your employees. Are you satisfied with them? Let's start with Lucio Casanuova.”

  Brillo waved his hands as if he was a soccer fan at a stadium and wanted to let two little flags flutter. “Oh, Lucio is a good man, a very good man. Conscientious, reliable. Yes, yes, a real asset.”

  “How long has he worked with you?”

  “Some weeks, I believe. I can ask my assistant to check the exact date, if you wish.”

  “That's not necessary at the moment, thank you. Have you seen him today?”

  “Lucio Casanuova?” Brillo blinked. “I only just came to the office myself, but I'm sure he's here. Do you wish to talk to him?”

  “No, thank you.” I'll ask Lucio to send in a message that he's ill.

  “And the brothers?”

  “Oh, they are excellent, truly excellent people. They've been with me for twelve years, when the company was still much smaller.” He patted the pink chair beneath him. “Before we had enough success to buy these beauties. Aren't they special?”

  Garini ignored the deviation. “I'd like to talk to the brothers, please.”

  Brillo jumped up. “Of course, of course! It's a pleasure to work with you, so concise, so to the point. Really, admirable!”

  Stefano suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

  Brillo called in the brothers and left in a flurry of hand-wavings and smiles.

  Once the preliminaries were over, Stefano sat and looked at the two men in front of him. If Brillo was Ernie, this was Bert – only in duplicate. The brothers were long and thin and looked morose. The conversation with them was rather difficult, as they tended to talk in monosyllables. The news of the murder didn't seem to move them much, and they said they'd not known Aurora as all the girls looked too similar. At least Garini got them to confirm the times of the evening. They claimed to have left five minutes after Lucio, just as soon as their drinks had been finished. “Did you notice anything unusual last night?”

  The brothers exchanged a look, and some sort of silent commu
nication passed between them. Then Giorgio said, “Lucio left early.”

  “And that was unusual?”

  “Yes.” Giorgio nodded. “He used to wait until the customers had gone.”

  “Did you notice anything else?”

  Both men shook their heads.

  Not one of them seems to have noticed that Lucio didn't feel well. “How do you like working with Lucio?”

  Again, they looked at each other, then shrugged almost simultaneously. “He's okay.”

  “Quick on the uptake? Helps with the jobs?” Now was their chance to mention that Lucio had not really done much work at all.

  “Fine.”

  This was almost too reticent. “How do you feel about accompanying the customers to the nightclub?”

  “It's not bad,” Domenico said. “Brillo pays for the drinks.”

  And you down them with enthusiasm. For an instant, Garini just looked at them, then he said, “As key account managers, you're often on the road, visiting your customers.”

  The brothers nodded.

  “But you've been here for some time. Do you like being stuck here in Florence?”

  Giorgio said, “It's better on the road, but Brillo asked us to help. So we stayed.”

  Garini's patience snapped. He felt he was wasting time, sitting here, trying to converse with oysters. So he cut the interview short, handed each of them his card, and said, “If you should ever have the feeling that talking to the police might be a good move, call me.” Then he left the office with a silent Piedro on his trail. Garini didn't ask Piedro what he thought of the men they'd just interviewed because he wanted to know if Piedro would take the initiative and start to think by himself. However, all through the drive back to the police station, Piedro sat in his seat and stared straight ahead, as if he didn't have a single thought in his mind. Which was probably the case.

  Back in the office, Garini immediately called Tonio. “Listen, Tonio, I've just talked to the company where Lucio, the murder suspect, works.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I have a feeling something is off there. The name of the company is Capomastro BB Top. Did the name ever come up in your drug research?”

  “No, not at all.” Tonio spoke slowly, thinking it out.

  “I'd like to send some IT experts to go through their files. But I won't get permission if I only say the murder suspect works in that company, so I thought we might add that there's a strong indication of a connection between the murder and the drug investigation, and that we would like to find out more.”

  “And what exactly is the strong indication?”

  “The fact that your informant so conveniently dies in the arms of Lucio Casanuova.”

  For a moment, Tonio didn't say anything. Then he cleared his throat. “All right. I'll clear this with my boss. If you don't hear anything, we'll go through with it.”

  “Thank you.” Stefano hung up and smiled. What a pleasure it was to work with people who were quick on the uptake and willing to move things. Not Piedro at all. Thinking about Piedro, he had to give him a job to do, so he sent him an e-mail, asking him to get some pictures of the knife. Then he took his notebook and entered the preliminary time table into his computer system, staring at the times until his eyes burned. Were they correct? He had to get more corroboration, had to make sure that every point was confirmed by at least two people. One point stuck out, a point that made him feel as if someone had shoved a block of lead into his stomach. He couldn't postpone it any longer. He had to talk to Emma, who had a damn good motive for murdering the prostitute and had been on the spot at the crucial time. Why had he ever thought that working in the homicide department was a good idea?

  At this instant, his telephone rang.

  “Commissario Garini, it's me again, Tonio Ferrero from the drug squad.”

  “That was quick.”

  “Sorry, I'm not calling about the search warrant yet. I just got a call from the team we've left at the Inferno d'Oro. We've closed the club to the public until they've gone over everything with a magnifying glass - all but the room where the murder took place, of course, where your team is at work - but there's an elderly couple bent on raising hell.”

  “An elderly couple?” Stefano felt uneasiness creeping up between his shoulder blades.

  “Yeah. They want to get inside the club without any further delay, and when we said it wasn't possible, they insisted on calling you. Your name didn't convey anything to the team, so they just called me and asked what to do.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Teodoro Alfredo Mantoni and a woman who calls herself Aunt Violetta. Apparently, it's about a lost porcellino d'India.”

  Garini didn't trust his ears. “A lost what?”

  “A guinea pig.”

  Chapter 7

  When he arrived at the dilapidated side street with the hidden entrance to the Inferno d'Oro, Garini found Aunt Violetta and Uncle Teo in front. Aunt Violetta sat in her wheel chair, and Uncle Teo leaned against it. They looked out of temper, exhausted, and cold. Behind them, a sturdy policeman guarded the small door, his legs planted wide apart, his arms crossed. He didn't look happy, either.

  Garini dismounted his motorbike, grateful for the thick leather jacket that shielded him from the wind, and went to greet the two eldest Mantoni family members. “Buongiorno,” he said as friendly as he could while scanning the area. Where were the other Mantonis? “How did you get here?”

  “With a taxi,” Uncle Teo said.

  “Stefano! Finally! Let's not discuss trivialities.” Aunt Violetta shouted the words at the top of her lungs and threw up her hands. “Can you tell this buffoon to please let us in? Right now?”

  The buffoon pulled himself up higher and met Stefano's gaze with a stoic mien.

  Stefano looked up and down the street, discovered a dusty little bakery and café right opposite, and made a quick decision. “This is no place to talk. Let's go to the bakery.”

  “But we need to get inside the club!” Uncle Teo said. His voice trembled.

  “I first need to understand what's going on, and this might take a while.”

  Aunt Violetta blew out her breath so hard, it sounded as if the cold wind had taken on extra volume. “Men. So slow.”

  Garini decided to ignore her, winked at the policeman on guard, and wheeled Aunt Violetta into the café. Uncle Teo followed with tottering steps.

  The café wasn't big, but the aroma of fresh bread smelled wonderful, and after the dusty outside appearance, the inside was a pleasant surprise, clean and warm. It only had two small tables, but they were both free. Garini installed the two Mantonis at one of them and went to the bar to get three cups of hot coffee.

  The girl behind the counter had black hair severely tied back and wore a pair of glasses with a heavy black frame. “I'll bring the cups to you,” she said in a dark voice as soon as he'd paid. “You can go ahead and take a seat.”

  Garini thanked her and returned to the disgruntled family. “Now tell me everything.”

  “It's a long story.” Uncle Teo scratched his nose. His hands had a bluish tinge from the cold.

  Or is it age? With a shock, Stefano realized Uncle Teo had become more fragile in the past months.

  He was glad when the girl brought the fragrant coffee to revive them all.

  “It's not a long story at all,” Aunt Violetta said in her booming voice. “We just have to get access to the Inferno d'Oro to look for Gracy. That's all.”

  Garini frowned. “Who's Gracy?”

  “Gracy is our guinea pig.”

  He blinked. “I didn't know you had guinea pigs. And why are they taken on outings to nightclubs?” I don't think I want to know the answer to that question.

  “I told you it's a long story.” Uncle Teo sounded tired. “But I'll try to explain. Violetta had the idea to start a new business venture.”

  Garini swallowed.

  Uncle Teo gave him a sharp glance. “No need to look like that. This one
is really harmless.”

  Aunt Violetta sat up straight and banged her fist on the table. “It's a unique start-up idea. I plan to race guinea pigs and allow people to bet on the outcome. I'll be a sort of racing broker – only for guinea pigs instead of horses.”

  “A racing broker.” Garini's voice sounded weak to his own ears.

  A sound like a chortle from the other side of the sales counter made him look over his shoulder, but the girl was busy arranging some Fiorentini cookies on a plate. He turned back to Aunt Violetta.

  “And yesterday, we were scheduled to meet a man who would give us some hints about setting up the business. He told us to come to the Inferno d'Oro at nine o'clock in the evening.”

  Suddenly, Garini was on high alert. “What kind of man? How did you get to know him?”

  Aunt Violetta sighed. “He's an expert on all the business aspects of gaming, and he was recommended to me while I waited at the Agenzia delle Dogane e dei Monopoli.” She gave him a grim smile. “That's the agency responsible for issuing the gaming license.”

  “Who recommended him?”

  She waved her hands. “Oh, just another guy who waited there. We got to talking, you know.”

  “Did he tell you his name?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “And this other man, the man you met? What was his name?”

  They both looked a bit uncomfortable. “He called himself Centurione.”

  “The centurio? That doesn't sound too probable. Is that all he said about himself?”

  “Em. Yes.” Aunt Violetta lifted her chin.

  “And you didn't even consider it strange that he invited you to meet at a nightclub instead of a normal office?”

  “Weeell,” Uncle Teo looked at his wrinkled hands. “He said he was already booked during the day, but had to entertain customers later on. So, to make it easy, he suggested meeting us at the club, before his customers joined him.”

  “I see.” Stefano's hair stood on end. What had these two been up to?

  “We met in front of the door at nine o'clock,” Aunt Violetta made a nonchalant gesture in the direction of the club entrance across the street, “and he took us first to the bar, to buy some drinks.” She smiled to herself. “The bartender was a cutie. He gave me an extra large sex on the beach when I asked for it and winked at me.”