Elegant Death Read online

  “I'm impressed.”

  “We talked about milk and sugar and then, I wanted to talk about a few other things, but it didn't work out that way.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “Because he's just like his coffee, bitter, without milk or sugar. In fact, he was almost rude.”

  “Probably learned it from his boss.”

  “Probably. But it gave me a strange feeling. He's hiding something, and I'd like to know what it is.”

  “Maybe he's having an affair with Liza, the secretary.”

  Stefano opened his eyes wide. “Where did you get that idea from?”

  “Well, she's certainly having an affair with someone from the office, and she claims she walked around Parco Sempione with him here in the center of Milan all afternoon, which would give both of them an alibi, but I haven't yet managed to learn the name.”

  “That was quick work.”

  “Thank you. But I think she's a lot easier to crack than this finance guy. You know, I can't really believe she would take up with such a dry stick, as Enzo called him. She's really quite sweet.”

  “Many sweet women fall for strange men.”

  Carlina gave an exaggerated sigh. “Don't I know it.”

  He caressed her cheek. “Life is strange indeed.”

  She laughed. “No, but seriously. Maybe he's not hiding anything. Maybe he's just a sort of misanthrope.”

  “Possibly.”

  Carlina got up. “We still have to talk to the arty type, the marketing director.”

  Stefano looked at his watch. “He should be here any minute now.”

  As if on cue, the door opened, and a tall man entered. He was slim to the point of being bony, and he wore the tightest pair of trousers Carlina had ever seen, bar Freddie Mercury. His eyes were large and brilliant, and a red scarf fluttered behind him as he shut the door.

  He went to Carlina with his hand outstretched, made an exaggerated bow and sketched a hand kiss, then shook Stefano's hand and exclaimed, “But surely I know you!”

  They both froze.

  “Yes, yes, I've seen you before. You are . . . let me think. I never forget a face. Never. It'll come back in just a minute.” He beamed at Stefano, pulled a pair of kid gloves from his shirt pocket and smoothed them over his long fingers.

  Carlina gulped. What if he recognized Stefano as a commissario of the homicide department? It wasn't likely he would accept the weak excuse of a job change. From homicide to communication? That wasn't a very logical career development.

  Benito Bellini snapped his gloved fingers in the air. “Now I've got it.”

  Carlina held her breath.

  “You were a slave, and I was your master.”

  Stefano's eyes threatened to pop out of his head.

  “Yes, yes. And you were good.” He slowly closed one eye, then nodded. “Yes, I remember I liked to have sinewy slaves like you. Lots of stamina.”

  Carlina had trouble not exploding into laughter. Was he kidding or was he being serious? “When was that, exactly?” she asked with as straight a face as she could manage.

  “Circa 1793, if I remember correctly.” Benito Bellini turned to her and batted his long eyelashes.

  “That's why I don't recall it.” Stefano's voice was calm. “Quite some time ago.”

  The marketing director shrugged. “Few people remember their former lives. Sometimes, I wonder if it's a gift or not. But of course, if you don't believe in reincarnation, it's hard to understand.”

  Carlina bent forward. “Are you saying you haven't forgotten a single face you've seen in all your many lives?”

  Stefano turned his head to his wife and lifted an eyebrow. The expression on his face was as clear as if he had spoken. So you're humoring the mad guy?

  Benito nodded in slow motion. “Not a single one.” He eyed her. “Now you . . . I've never seen you before.”

  “That's because she's unique.” Stefano's voice was dry.

  Benito threw up one hand. “Ah, that's true love. How wonderful.” He dropped into one of the leather chairs and stretched out his long legs. “You asked to talk to me. Something about communication?”

  “Yes. Signor Ashley called us in to do a survey on inner company communication. The goal is to find out where information gets lost and where misunderstandings crop up, and to find a more efficient way of dealing with this type of situation,” Stefano said.

  Benito shrugged. “Now that Dorotea is gone, we'll have to start from scratch. She was the brain in this company, and quite frankly, I doubt anybody can take her place.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  Both hands went up at that. “Miss her? What an impossible question! Do you miss a dragon? A gorgon, someone who's a constant pain in your flesh? Do you miss a genius, making your life hell?”

  Carlina blinked. Did the man ever talk without exaggerating? She cleared her throat. “How do you think the communication could be improved in the company in the near future?”

  Benito's eyes started to glow. “We should do crowd sourcing, ask our target group what they want. Use all the social media channels and get in touch with those who are in the throbbing center of the fashion mania. Let them design the next big thing! The next big trend is out there.” He flung his hands in the direction of the window. “We just have to catch it.”

  Carlina was completely bewildered. When she'd asked about communication, she had expected an answer that would tell her how the people in the company shared information. Instead, he seemed to talk about something totally different. Then, from the depth of her memory, came something she'd learned at fashion college. Communication was part of marketing. Communication as in communicating the core of the company to its customers. They'd been talking at cross-purposes. While she'd been trying to follow him, Benito had continued talking without once drawing breath.

  Stefano now bent forward. “You seem to be convinced about your approach.”

  “I definitely am!”

  “And how did signora Di Silva see that?”

  All the glow dropped from him, as if an iridescent raincoat had slipped from his shoulders. He shrugged. “She hated the idea. You know why? She was an alpha animal, more male than any man I ever met, and she wanted to be the one who decided things. She didn't relish the idea of relinquishing control at all, and the idea of giving the ordinary public the chance to design one of the famous Camicie Di Silva shirts gave her the shivers.”

  Carlina found her voice. “So she blocked the idea?”

  He flung himself against the back of his chair. “You name it. She blocked every single idea, everything new, everything daring. Everything where she wasn't one hundred percent in control. It was disheartening.”

  “So why did you stay?”

  He stared at her. “Did you know her?”

  “No.”

  “Then you won't understand. It was terrible to work next to her, but at the same time, it was exhilarating because she had an air, a way of seeing things, of moving on . . . I found her inspiring.”

  Stefano didn't take his gaze off him. “So you could say it was a love-hate relationship?”

  “Gosh, yes.”

  Carlina remembered her gossipy role. “It's not the first time we've heard this. Can you imagine who would have wanted to kill her? I mean, it seems incredible, doesn't it?”

  Again, Benito flung out his arms. “Take your pick. I think every single one of us cursed her or wished her dead. She was the best hated woman in the industry.”

  Carlina shook her head. “It's so sad. Apparently, there's nobody who really liked her.”

  Benito looked at her. “Try Lorenzo. You met him this morning, didn't you? He's responsible for purchase and quality, and he's been with the company from the very beginning.”

  But when Stefano and Carlina talked to the director of purchase and quality a short time later, he didn't seem heartbroken, either. Contrary to the other directors, however, he didn't show any emotion at all. He was a small, rotund man, with a
fringe of white hair around his head. Deep lines made a triangle from his nose to the corners of his mouth, and when he frowned and looked above his half-glasses with his brown eyes, his forehand folded itself into four exact parallel lines.

  When Stefano had explained the purpose of the interview, he steepled his hands together and said, “I see.” Then, he didn't say anything for a full minute and just stared at his fingertips as if he'd never seen them before.

  Carlina and Stefano exchanged a surprised look. “Signor Vitali? Do you think you could explain a bit about the current communication patterns in the company?”

  He took a deep breath and looked up. “It's very simple. Everything centered around Dorotea. Now that she's gone, we'll have to reorganize the whole company. With so many questions and unsettled things, I doubt it's the right time to engage your services, and I'm surprised that signor Ashley did this without consulting any of the other directors.” His cool look challenged them.

  “I see your point,” Stefano said, “but you should consider that restructuring the company at a time when everything is in upheaval might be a good thing. After all, it's better to start the way you want to continue than to allow the wrong ways to become ingrained.”

  Carlina smiled at her husband. Maybe he should become a full-time consultant. He sounded so convincing, so sure of himself. How she enjoyed being on his side, not on the opposite.

  Signor Vitali shot her a quick look. “Why do you look so satisfied?”

  Carlina's smile dropped from her face, but she rallied quickly. “I was just thinking this is exactly the right answer, though I understand it's unsettling. You were quite close to Dorotea, weren't you?”

  Again, Vitali looked at his fingers. “I knew her longer than anybody else. Her mother died when she was fourteen, and her father just a few years later. I often wondered how things would have turned out if she'd had more time to grow into everything. As it was, she was suddenly pushed into this huge responsibility, and I think it warped her.”

  “Warped her? In what way?”

  “She never knew opposition. From equals, I mean. She could do what she wanted. And because she was successful, she took more and more liberties. I warned her, but she only laughed.”

  Carlina caught her breath. Maybe here, they were finally getting to the heart of the matter. “What about?”

  “About toying with people's emotions. She felt she had to be at the top, had to be in the driver's seat, and whenever someone dared to challenge her, she started to play games.”

  Carlina remembered the will. Dorotea had made that will to tease Enzo, to dangle it like a carrot in front of his face. She wanted to see what money could do, and who knew what she would have done once Enzo had succumbed. Enzo had tried to resist, but he'd admitted how hard it was. Had Dorotea played the same game with other people, people who'd cracked under the pressure?

  Vitali shook himself. “But we're not here to talk about Dorotea. You want to know about communication processes in the company. I still say it's too early. Everything depends on signor Ashley's management style. A brand like this needs a strong hand. Our customers expect a certain style and highest quality, and the world will look extremely critically on the next steps. Signor Ashley's inheritance is not going to be an easy one.”

  “I've heard you're planning to retire soon,” Stefano said. “Would you be willing to reconsider this, to help signor Ashley in this period of transition?”

  Lorenzo Vitali shrugged. “It depends. I'm exhausted, and I've been looking forward to retiring. I've got a small house at the lago di Garda.”

  “Someone said this is where you got the news of Dorotea's death,” Carlina invented. “It must have been a horrible moment.”

  He slowly nodded. “It was horrible, yes, but I wasn't at the lago di Garda. I was here, at home, when the call reached me. I felt so guilty. I still do.”

  Stefano lifted his eyebrows. “Why should you feel guilty?”

  “Because I should have been more insistent. I should have told Dorotea that enough is enough. You can't ride rough shod over people without someone lashing out at you eventually. However, it was so exhausting to resist her, and in the end, I stood back and let it go. I've tried to remonstrate her on so many things, and when it never got me anywhere, I gave up.” He lifted his head. “I don't know why I'm talking to you like this. I shouldn't, but then again, it won't hurt her anymore. I've been silent for so long.”

  “Silent about what?” Carlina's voice was gentle.

  “Silent about the way she treated her employees. It wasn't dignified, and her father would have been appalled. But she said things were different then, and if you wanted to be successful today, you couldn't afford to attend to the sensitivities of everyone.” He shook his head. “In a way, she was right, of course. When she was younger, she wasn't so extreme, and people took advantage of her. That made her hard. She lost the ability to trust in anyone. It was sad, in a way, but few people could afford to feel sorry for her.”

  “Will you miss her?” Carlina asked.

  He nodded. “In a way.”

  And that was as far as he would go. When he'd left the room, they looked at each other.

  “I admit to feeling discouraged,” Carlina said. “There doesn't seem to be a single person who really misses her.” She shuddered. “I'm glad Enzo got rid of her before she could swallow him whole.”

  Stefano made a wry face. “That's like saying you're glad she's dead. Don't let the police hear that. They might get funny ideas.”

  She punched his arm. “You know what I mean.”

  “Of course I do, and I see your point.” He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head. “Maybe we have to look for the one person who sheds crocodile tears. That's our murderer.”

  “We still have one more person to talk to, the sales manager, Franco di Rosa. Maybe he's the one.” She couldn't keep her voice from sounding hopeful.

  He shook his head. “You should first listen to the suspect before you condemn him. Rule number one of police work.”

  “No, really?” She winked at him. “That sounds uncomfortable.”

  He ignored her. “Besides, we still have two suspects. There's also the finance director, Marco Riva.”

  “Gosh, yes, and he's been with the company for five years. Quite long enough to go crazy.”

  But Marco Riva didn't appear crazy. He was as approachable as an iceberg, and so indifferent, it bordered on being rude. He didn't even sit down but said he didn't have much time and kept by the door, one side turned to it, as if he wanted to be ready to run.

  Carlina got up, too, so she didn't feel inferior next to him and looked at him closely. A good-looking man. Tall, slim, dark hair, finely chiseled face. Lips maybe a bit too thin, but the eyes . . . she shuddered when she met his gaze. He looked bored and disdainful. Why did he behave like that? What did he have to prove? “I'm sure signora Di Silva's death must have been a shock,” she said by way of starting the conversation.

  “It was a shock for everyone.” Riva looked at his watch. “You said you wanted to learn about communication?”

  “That's right.” Stefano had also gotten up and leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets.

  Carlina couldn't help but compare the two of them. Riva was a bit taller, but where Stefano seemed relaxed and at ease with himself and the world, tension spoke from every line of Riva's body. “In what way would you improve the communication in this company if you could?” she asked.

  Riva's dark eyebrows snapped together. “There's too much talk going on already. I'd make sure to cut it in half. You wouldn't believe the amount of time lost with people gossiping all the time.”

  “We're looking for the professional type of communication. The exchange of valuable information.” Stefano's voice was mild.

  Riva shrugged. “Well, we've got reports for that, don't we? People should be compelled to read them, and they'd be informed.”

  Carlina swallowed. What a cheery guy. Sh
e decided to provoke him a bit. “Who's the best person in this company? Who do you turn to if you wish to talk to a real professional?”

  Riva shrugged.

  I bet he thinks “I'm the only one” but doesn't dare say it. Carlina let the silence hang.

  “I really can't comment on that,” Riva finally said. “It's hard to find good people.”

  Uh-oh. “How about signora Di Silva? No doubt you'll miss her.”

  “Of course she'll be missed.” He said it without any inflection at all. “She had the sole power to decree anything, and there's no safety net, no structure to cover her sudden loss. Signor Ashley will have to take over without having the least help. She played everything too close to her chest.”

  “Well, she's had two employees who've worked with her for a long time. Lorenzo Vitali is one.”

  Riva dismissed Vitali with a gesture of his hand. “He's about to retire.”

  “There are also external consultants of long standing, like her lawyer, signor Belfiore.”

  Riva narrowed his eyes. “Belfiore.” It seemed as if the name had reminded him of a bad taste in his mouth.

  “And you.” Stefano entered into the conversation. “After all, you've been with her for five years, half a decade. Longer than almost any other director.”

  Riva looked at him. “I fail to see how this helps with the subject you're supposed to be working on.”

  Stefano gave him a mocking smile. “Oh, we're just trying to keep the conversational ball rolling, hoping to revert to the topics that interest us at some moment or other, since you're not very forthcoming.”

  Riva sighed and once again looked at his watch. “If you'd only ask specific questions, I'd be able to give you specific answers. I find your questions very nebulous.”

  Carlina straightened. “Are the accounts of the company in order, signor Riva? I hear there's a fiscal audit coming up.”

  His thin face flushed. “Of course they're in order, but once again, I fail to see how your questions pertain to the subject you're supposed to be addressing. How exactly did signor Ashley find your services?”

  Carlina's eyes flashed, but before she could say anything, Stefano held up a hand. “You'd better ask signor Ashley personally.” His voice was still mild. “You've given us a lot more information than you think, and we appreciate the time you took. We'll come back to you soon for further questions.”