Charmer's Death (Temptation in Florence Book 2) (22 page)

The temperature had dropped still further, and Garini pulled up the collar of his leather jacket as he got out of the car in front of Cervi's house. He clenched his teeth as he mounted the few steps toward the villa and pressed the bell with a ridiculous feeling of inevitability.

She opened the door herself.
Thank God.
“Good afternoon, Signora Cervi.” Stefano forced himself to smile at the wife of his boss.

She had improbable blond hair, piled high on her head, a tanned face in the middle of winter, and glitzy earrings combined with a Chanel costume. The twenty-five kilos she had gained in the last years had shrouded her beauty in a more cuddly frame, but they didn't conceal how attractive she had been, even when she frowned. “Commissario Garini? Is anything the matter with my husband?” Her voice was the least attractive thing about her - it sounded high-pitched and squeaky.

“None at all.” He shook his head. “I'd like to discuss a personal matter with you, if I may.”

“
Of course, though I can't for the life of me imagine what you'd like to say to me.” She opened the door wide. It was decorated with a tasteful Christmas wreath and a tartan ribbon, looking very American and out of place.

He followed her into the villa. Marcella Cervi had been an heiress with excellent political connections. She spent her days on several committees and unofficially ran parts of the town. Garini had met her at several official meetings and soon realized that she was a dangerous woman, greedy and unhappy. Whenever possible, he gave her a wide berth, but he knew he had to interview her just like all the other women on his list if he didn't want to lose his self-respect. Still, he wished he was anywhere but in Cervi's opulent villa right now and only hoped that his boss wouldn't take it into his head to return home on this frosty winter afternoon.

She opened a door to a room too perfect to be decorated by anyone but an interior architect. A white carpet complemented the shiny wooden floor, white brocade curtains were held back with broad linen tassels, and the walls were painted in a soft muddy color that was probably called misty taupe in the designer's catalog. Elaborate stucco provided an adequate frame for the glistening chandelier, and the furniture - a sofa and two armchairs - were too pristine white to have ever been put to serious use. In the middle reigned a low table made of heavy glass. The only note that didn't fit was the smell of cold smoke.

Marcella Cervi draped herself on one of the large armchairs and pulled a cigarette from a golden case. “Do you want one?”

“No, thank you.” Garini pulled the copy taken from Trevor Accanto's little book from his jacket but held it so she couldn't see the picture.

“
I forgot, you're always uber-correct.” She narrowed her eyes, lit the cigarette and pulled at it with a nervous move, then bent forward and placed the spent match with care onto a heavy glass ashtray.

“
I'll be brief,” he said.

“
You always are.” Her voice sounded tart.

He ignored her, though his heart-beat accelerated.
She'll make this difficult.
“You will have heard that the millionaire Trevor Accanto was strangled at the Basilica di Santa Trìnita four days ago.”

She didn't reply.

He didn't take his gaze off her and thought he could see a cautious withdrawal, a watchfulness in her eyes. “When we got access to Signor Accanto's private documents, we found this.” He passed her the picture. “It was part of a highly suggestive album, one that leads us to believe that the ladies shown were his lovers.”

Marcella Cervi looked at the picture without moving. For an instant, her fingers clenched on the paper, then they relaxed again. She lifted her head. “What is your question, Commissario?”

“I'd like to know everything you can tell me about Signor Accanto.”

She pulled at her cigarette again and gave a high-pitched laugh. “I suggest that you concern yourself more with the present than with the past. If I had had a grudge against Trevor, I would not have waited some twenty years before acting on it.”

“When was this picture taken?”

She shrugged. “I don't recall exactly, it's all so long ago. Twenty-five years ago? Twenty-six? I don't know.”

Garini didn't take his gaze off her. “I think you could remember very well if you wanted to.”

She blew a ring of smoke into the air. “I assure you, dear Commissario, that I never remember unimportant things.”

“Were you already married then, Signora Cervi?”

She bent forward, her dark eyes suddenly sparkling in anger. “So this is it? I admit I'm surprised. I'd never have taken you for the kind of man who goes for a bit of blackmail every now and then.”

Stefano clenched his teeth. “I am investigating a murder, Signora Cervi, no more and no less. Your husband doesn't know that I'm here, and if the information I get from you has no connection to the murder, I will not tell him about it.”

She leaned back and gave him a supercilious look. “What about your reports?”

Damn. With unerring instinct, she had placed her finger into the wound. As the wife of his boss, she knew that he was obliged to put every single bit of information, no matter how unimportant, into the reports. If he offered to leave out the information, he was making himself vulnerable, and she would use it to her advantage as soon as she was out of danger.

However, if he left it in, he also knew that Cervi would take it as a personal insult and would take it out on him. He couldn't win.

Stefano held her gaze. “My report will contain every word we have exchanged.” He had by no means decided what he would do with the information he could get from her, but under no circumstances would he tell her so. What a difference to Carlina, Carlina who was straight-forward, honest, and never played games. Suddenly, he missed her with such intensity that it felt like a shot of pain going straight through him.

“
Aha.” She stubbed out her cigarette. “So I've not been mistaken in you. That's something, at least.” She got up. “However, I see no need to give you any further information. My past has nothing whatsoever to do with the murder of Trevor Accanto. You have my word on that.” She gave him a faint smile. “That should be enough.”

Garini stretched out his legs, pretending to make himself comfortable. “Pray remain seated, Signora.”

She met his cool gaze with a look of blazing temper. “What do you want? I'm not going to tell you anything.”

He took out the pictures of Snow White and Laughing Eyes, with Trevor cut away. It cost him an effort to reveal their pictures to someone as uncooperative as Marcella Cervi, but she had been Trevor's lover a year or two after them, and she might remember their faces as they had been then, even if the women had changed drastically in the meantime.

“Could you look at these pictures and tell me if you recognize these women?”

As he had expected, her curiosity was stronger than her hostility.

She held out her hand.

He first gave her Snow White.

A quick shake of the head. “Never seen her.”

Laughing Eyes.

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, then she closed it again. “Never seen her, either.” She returned the pictures. “Is that enough or do you plan on remaining sitting here for the rest of the day?”

He got up without hurrying. “You have given me all the answers I need.”
So she knows Laughing Eyes but wants to keep the secret.
He frowned. Why? It could be loyalty. Hard to imagine in a woman like Marcella Cervi. He could better imagine that she would hide her knowledge for other motives . . . power, for example - or maybe even blackmail. Yes, he could see Marcella Cervi using her knowledge to get an advantage she would otherwise not have had. If that was her plan, it was dangerous.

He turned at the door and fixed her with his most intimidating gaze. “I have to warn you, Signora Cervi, that this killer is ruthless.”

She lifted a mocking eyebrow. “Aren't they all?”

“
Possibly.” His voice was dry. “If you should realize that you want to add something to your statement, get in touch with me immediately.”

“
I could also tell my husband.” She gave him a saucy smile.

Heaven forbid.
“Of course.” He nodded and went down the stone steps leading from the villa. An icy wind blew straight between his neck and his collar, but he felt better outside, with a bigger distance from the wife of his boss.
Phew.
Now he had to look for a woman in competition with Marcella Cervi. Who could it be? An acclaimed beauty? Maybe even a previous lover of her husband. Stefano shuddered. He'd rather not investigate a case that had its roots deep in the Cervi family.

On an impulse, he took out his phone and called Carlina.

“Hello Commissario.” Her voice was faintly mocking, but tender.

He could feel his mood lighten. “Hi.”

“Is anything the matter?” Her voice sounded worried now.

Strange, how much he wanted to smooth that fear away. “No. Nothing more than you already know, that is.”

“Good.” A pause.

He could hear her taking a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something.

“So why are you calling?” she asked.

He hesitated, then said the first thing that came to his mind. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Oh.” She laughed.

It sounded as if it was a private laugh just for him, low and intimate, and it gave him goosebumps. “Are you all right? No after-effects from the shock this morning?”

“I'm fine.” Her voice was calm. “The rest at lunch time helped a lot.”

“
Good.”

“
You sound strange,” she suddenly said.

“
Strange?”

“
Yes. Preoccupied.”

He gave a snort. “No wonder. I just interrogated the wife of my boss.”

“I see.” She sounded thoughtful. “Was she cooperative?”

“
Not in the least.” He felt better already, just talking to Carlina. “In fact, I'm one hundred percent sure that she knows one of the other ladies, but she didn't tell me. I assume she is working to her own agenda.”

“
Scary.”

“
Hmm.” He could get addicted to this. “So, what are you up to tonight?” he asked.

“
We have a meeting with Sabrina.”

“
Sabrina?”

“
She's the mayor's wife, the one who organizes the Florence Christmas fair.”

“
I remember. You also had a meeting with her the night I walked you home.”

“
Yes. By the way--” she broke off.

“
Yes?”

“
Oh, nothing.”

Garini frowned. Was she hiding something? Something to do with the case? He opened his mouth to ask, but she beat him to it.

“We're all of us meeting at the historical palazzo where the Christmas fair will take place. It's called the Palazzo Davanzati. I'm sure you know it. We'll discuss how to set up the booths, and then, she'll invite us to her home for a drink.” Carlina sighed. “It'll be a long night, but I think it'll be worth it. I have to make sure I find a chair somewhere. It would be too cruel if she invited us without sufficient chairs.”

He smiled. “When is the fair going to take place?”

“Tomorrow.”

Garini frowned. “Tomorrow, the twenty-third? Isn't that one of the biggest shopping days of the year? How will you manage?”

“The fair will only start at three in the afternoon and will continue until ten at night. I'll set up the booth early in the morning,” Carlina sighed, “between six and nine, in fact. I've asked my mother to tend the booth between nine-thirty and three, because I plan to spend the morning at Temptation. I know that quite a few of the other store owners will do the same thing.”

“
Sounds exhausting.”
I hope her mother won't let her down.

“
If you run a small business, you have to be flexible. Anyway, in the afternoon, I'll leave Annalisa and Marianna at Temptation and will return to the Christmas Fair together with Ricciarda.”

Garini frowned. “Who's Marianna?”

“You don't know her, but she's a part-time help. She often helps out when I'm on vacation or in other emergencies.”

He grinned. How like her to call a vacation an emergency. “And on the twenty-fourth?”

“That'll be the last and most hectic day of the Christmas battle.” Carlina sighed again, “and I'll probably fall asleep in the middle of midnight mass when it's all over.” She laughed. “But I usually do that anyway.”

“
I'll see if I can drop by at the Fair tomorrow,” he said.

“
That would be nice. You can do some last minute Christmas shopping.”

“
Last minute is done on the twenty-fourth,” he answered. “But maybe it's time for a more sedate lifestyle.”

Sabrina's steps sounded hollow on the polished parquet floor. The medieval room on the first floor had a high ceiling with small windows giving onto the street, but the early winter night had already closed in, blackening out the view of the honey-colored stone houses opposite.

Carlina followed Sabrina together with the other exhibitors. She studied a hand-written map and tried to find the right location for her booth.

“I had to promise the town that we would under no circumstances nail anything onto the wainscoting or damage the parquet floor.” Sabrina said to the group. “That's why we developed the cardboard folding walls with the soft edges as a background for each booth.”

Carlina smiled. She was delighted with the crinkled gold foil and the distinctive Temptation logo in the center of her folding wall. It made a great backdrop for the three mannequins she planned to show. Three hollow black cubes would serve as storage areas and sitting places at the same time. She had asked Sabrina for a position in a corner, so her customers would be able to try on her special lace underwear behind the folding wall without being seen.

Sabrina turned around and faced the group of fourteen women in front of her. “So if you plan to bring any additional furniture, make sure you glue felt underneath any sharp edges.” She handed out large pieces of felt with an adhesive on their backs. “I've brought one for each for you, and you can cut it into the necessary size. If you need more, come back to me.”

Carlina fingered the gray felt. It felt furry and a bit rough. How typical of Sabrina to prepare every detail.

“Also, we have to make sure not to place anything over these trapdoors.” Sabrina pointed at several squares, placed in a long row, on the floor. “They might not be sturdy enough to bear the weight.”

“
Trapdoors?” Carlina asked. “What use did they have? There's no room beneath here, is there?”

“
No.” Sabrina shook her head. “Below this room is only the arch that is part of the main entrance. In medieval times, if your enemies tried to storm the house, you could open the trapdoors and pour liquid lead onto them. That proved to be quite an efficient way to stop them.”

Carlina's friend Rosanna shivered. “Gosh, I would think so.” She gave the trapdoor next to her a wide berth.

Carlina shook her head. “It's funny; I've lived in Florence so long, but there are still so many things I don't know.”

“
That's because you're not a tourist.” Rosanna said. “When they come to Florence, they spend a full week looking into every crook and nanny, listening to the complete history, starting with Caesar's colony . . . and afterwards, they're experts.”

Carlina smiled. “Well, as long as they manage to look into our stores as well, I'm fine with that.”

They advanced together with the group. Sabrina explained that the bathrooms were on the same floor just around the corner, and that she would open the building at six o' clock the next morning, so they could start the setting-up of their booths. Several ladies groaned.

Sabrina smiled. “You can come later, if you wish, but I know that some of you have to be at your own stores later in the morning. As long as everything is done by three o'clock, you can start whenever you want.
The Christmas fair will officially close at ten PM, and afterwards, we'll start the dismantling. We have to return this room to its original condition by midnight.”

Carlina clenched her teeth. Maybe she had taken on too much. It was sheer lunacy to leave Temptation to Marianna and Annalisa, just one day before Christmas. But she felt she personally had to be at the Christmas fair to study the reactions to her new lace collection. If they resembled in any way Annalisa's feelings, the collection would be dead before it was born. She had decided to take Ricciarda with her because she knew that it would be impossible to deal with any crowds if she was on her own. Also, as soon as Temptation closed in the evening, Annalisa would join them at the fair, to help during the last hours and with the dismantling. At least, that was the plan. However, if they should only have a few customers, Carlina had already decided to send them home early.

She suppressed a sigh. Hopefully Annalisa would prove to be a help and not a hindrance. What if she had one of her fits in front of a customer?

She shook her head.
Nothing will happen. It's just another crazy Christmas.
Once the fair was over, she only had the 24th to survive, and on December 25th, she could collapse, sleep until eleven, and later sit down to the traditional family lunch that Benedetta would have prepared with as much love as usual. In between, she still had to wrap her gifts, but that was done in less than thirty minutes . . .

Sabrina clapped her hands. “I'd now like to invite you to a small drink at my home, to celebrate that we have survived the preparations. We'll drink to success, because tomorrow evening, we'll be too exhausted to do so. It's right behind the Uffizi Museum.”

Laughter greeted her announcement.

When Carlina dismounted from her Vespa in front of Sabrina's house, she thought her joints would crack, being frozen by the sharp wind. It seemed to get colder every day. Maybe they would even have snow. She shivered and hunched deeper into her jacket. “As long as it doesn't snow tomorrow,” she murmured. If it snowed, traffic in Florence would come to a total stand-still. The inhabitants would either refuse to set a foot outdoors or would drive as if their cars had developed into drunken centipedes, with legs slithering all over the place - with the exception of a few chosen lunatics who drove as if they had seven lives to lose.

She was grateful for the warmth of Sabrina's house when the door was opened to her. A glass of Prosecco, the festive Christmas-tree in a corner of the elegant living room, and the babble of excited voices lifted her mood. “I wanted to say thank you for inviting me to join the Christmas Fair,” she said to Rosanna who was sitting next to her on a modern chaise longue. “I really appreciate it. I got to know so many interesting women.”

Rosanna lifted her glass and clinked it with hers. “I'm glad you were able to join. Here's to our success tomorrow.” Her pixie-like face shone.

They smiled at each other and drank.

Carlina placed her glass on a small side-table and turned to her friend. “I need to go to the bathroom. Do you happen to know where it is?”

“Yes.” Rosanna pointed toward the back of the house. “You have to cross the music room, past the piano. Just go straight on. You can't miss it.”

Carlina winced when she got up. Her feet were hurting her. After all these years, she should be used to standing all day long, but for some reason, it didn't get better. With mincing steps, she crossed the room and opened the door Rosanna had indicated. When she closed it again behind her, the babble of voices was cut off and sudden peace descended. Carlina took a deep breath and looked around. The piano room had an unusual shape, like an octagon, placed in a strategic position in the middle of the house. Several doors led from it.

It smelled of hyacinths. Carlina turned her head - now she could see them standing on a sideboard. Next to it two tall lamps threw muted pools of light against the stucco ceiling. Their light reflected on the shiny surface of the grand piano and the silver frames that decorated it. “What a serene room.” She went past the piano, one hand trailing over the smooth surface.

By pure chance, her gaze came to rest on one of the silver-framed pictures, and when she recognized the faded picture, she froze in horror. She stopped in the middle of her move, her hand half stretched out toward the picture.
It can't be.
Carlina swallowed. Her heart beat hard against her chest, and her breath came out in sharp gusts.

She looked around her. She was still alone in the room, but the peace she had felt earlier had gone. Suddenly, the smell of hyacinths had become suffocating - and the silence a threat. She bent forward and narrowed her eyes. No doubt. The woman in the picture was Laughing Eyes, Trevor's second lover some twenty-five years ago. And now she knew why she had seemed so familiar. The different hair cut had misled her, and the changes that came with many years, but she should still have recognized the bone structure, and of course those unusual eyes. It was Sabrina.

A door clicked softly behind her.

Carlina whirled around.

“Ah, you're admiring the pictures,” Sabrina came up to the piano, not a hair out of place.

Carlina's heart stopped for an instant. She cleared her throat. “Yes.” Her voice sounded rough. “It's a lovely room.” She made a wide gesture with her hand and turned away from the pictures. “Gorgeous flowers.”
Anything to distract her.

Sabrina gave her a sharp glance. “I see you've recognized that ancient picture.” She shrugged. “I should have hidden it, but I had forgotten that it was on the piano until I caught you staring.”

Oh, no.
Disconcerted by the direct attack, Carlina took a step back and faked a smile.
Pretend you haven't heard her.
“I think I'll return to Rosanna. She'll be wondering what became of me.”

“
Not so fast.” Sabrina's cool hand encircled Carlina's wrist. “I think we need to talk.”

“
I really have to go.” Carlina took a step to the door and pulled her wrist away.

Sabrina let her arm go but blocked the way with her body. “You don't need to be afraid of me, Carlina.” She smiled. “I won't hurt you.”

Carlina shivered. She had never noticed how tall Sabrina was. Her slim figure might well stem from extensive sessions at the fitness studio, making her stronger than she looked, stronger than Carlina. She forced herself to meet Sabrina's gaze. “You don't have to explain anything to me.” Her voice sounded way too squeaky, showing her fear louder than words.

“
But I want to.” Sabrina closed her lips until they were a tight line.

Carlina sent a silent message to Garini. If ESP worked, this was the moment to prove it.
I'm in danger.
She turned half away from Sabrina and used the move to slip her hand into the pocket of her trousers, assuming a relaxed stance. If she could call Garini without Sabrina noticing it, he might get here in time. He had once made her program his name so it came up on top, but she couldn't recall which button she had to press first. Her fingers slid over the tiny keys. Darn. She had no idea if she was reaching him or somebody else, somebody totally useless, like the answering machine at Temptation, or, even worse, her mother. To cover up her gestures, she shrugged and faked a smile. “Well, if you want to talk, go right ahead.”

Sabrina picked up the picture and looked at it with a frown. “It was a long time ago.”

Carlina measured the distance to the door. It was too far to escape. “Yes.”

Sabrina looked up, her face distorted with hatred.

Carlina flinched.

“
Marcella Cervi was here this afternoon. She saw a picture in the police files. A picture of me and Trevor. Marcella recognized me, but she didn't tell anybody - or so she said.” Her shoulders shook. “I thought I was safe. Twenty-five years, and now this old story is blowing up into my face.”

Carlina pressed a few more keys, praying silently.
I'm in danger.
“What story?”

“
I had been married one year. Only one year, but Trevor blew me away.” A wistful smile played around her lips and disappeared.

A sudden feeling of sadness swamped Carlina.
I've heard this before.

Sabrina lifted her head. “Can you imagine that Marcella Cervi had the effrontery to blackmail me? She came to my house today and threatened to blab unless I helped to push her into the top position on certain committees.” Her eyes blazed with anger.

Carlina took a shaky breath.
Is Marcella Cervi still alive?
“Really?” It sounded like a croak.

“
That slimy, inefficient, fake--” Sabrina broke off, her chest heaving.

Carlina took another step back.

Sabrina narrowed her eyes and followed her. “Stay.”

“
I think you should talk to the police,” Carlina swallowed hard. “They know what to do with blackmailers.”

Sabrina laughed.

The mirthless sound chilled Carlina.

“
Oh, I don't need the help of the police.” Sabrina narrowed her large eyes. “I have my own way to deal with Marcella and her kind.”

“
Great.” Carlina took another step toward the door. “I . . . I'm glad to hear that.”
Why does nobody have to go to the bathroom? Have they all left?

Sabrina's hand shot forward and grabbed her wrist again. “I don't want you to run to the Commissario now. Stay.”

Carlina felt sick.
I'm in danger.
“Why did you kill Trevor?” The question came out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Sabrina reared back. “Me?” She sounded flabbergasted. “I didn't kill Trevor.”

Carlina's knees started to tremble. “You . . . you didn't kill Trevor?” Her head whirled.

“
Of course not.” Sabrina shook her head. “Oh, I knew he was in town every Christmas; I met him at a reception of the American consulate three years ago.” Her mouth twisted. “He was with a girl young enough to be his daughter.”