temptation in florence 05 - seaside in death (8 page)

Stefano's jaw went slack.

Pucci continued, “In the meantime--”

Rulo cut in. “You can't arrest my client without a warrant.”

“It's
ferragosto
, and that's why I can't get a hold of the right people at the moment.” Pucci said in a nonchalant way as if his behavior was standard procedure. “Now don't confuse the issue. The warrant is a mere technicality in this case.”

“The mere technicality, as you call you,
Signor,
is absolutely necessary. Who do you think you are? The Gestapo?”

Pucci's voice rose. “I have a right to make an immediate arrest if I fear that the suspect is going to escape.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” Ernesto sounded close to panic.

Carlina made a step forward, but Garini pulled her back.

“You've heard my client.” The lawyer's voice was cold. “Besides, your findings are way too weak to justify an arrest at this point.”

“That's where you're wrong,
Signor
!” Pucci was shouting now, so Carlina and Stefano had no problem following the conversation. “We've found the murder weapon underneath the suspect's bed!”

“What?” Ernesto's voice rose an octave. “The murder weapon was found underneath my bed?”

“Yes.”
Commissario
Pucci was clearly proud of himself. “We searched the house this afternoon, while you were all out, and we found it right away. It wasn't a very clever hiding place, you know. I've just returned from the station with the result, and yes, the bullet did come from this gun.” There was a rustling sound. “Here it is. Now, do you recognize it?”

“I've never seen it in my life,” Ernesto's voice shook. “Never!”

“I didn't expect you to say anything else,” Pucci's voice was an insult.

“Did you check if it's registered?” The lawyer asked.

“Not yet.” Pucci sounded patient, as if he had to explain things to a slow child. “But how many more facts do you want?”

“Quite a few,
Commissario.”
Rulo's voice couldn't become any icier.
“
As you said yourself, the hiding place was too obvious. Someone else might have put the gun underneath my client's bed.”

“Rubbish. I don't understand at all why you have to go ahead and make things complicated when everything is crystal-clear.”

“Have you ever heard of a solution that's too easy?”

“Bah!” Pucci said. “Ninety percent of the people who find the victim are the murderer.”

It became so still that they could hear a lone cicada singing in the garden.

Then Domenico Rulo said, slowly, pronouncing each word with care, “What's your name?”

“I'm
Commissario
Pucci, and I'm in charge of this case, though as far as I'm concerned, it's already solved. You may say what you want, but--”

The lawyer interrupted him, “Where is
Commissario
Garini?”

“
Commissario
who?”

“The man who called me in.”

“He means Stefano Garini,” Ernesto said. “You talked to him when . . .” he gulped, “when you came to see the body.”

“Oh, him.” Pucci's voice was full of contempt. “I don't know where he is. He's not important.”

Rulo said, “He will be.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Pucci's voice was waspish, “and I sure don't want to know. You're obstructing the police. Now, let's go ahead with the arrest.”

“You're not proceeding with this outlandish arrest, my lad,” Rulo said. “Go back to where you came from and get the necessary documents. Once you have them, you can contact me again. Here's my card.”

“I'll hold you personally responsible if the suspect escapes!” It was clear from Pucci's tone that he had finally realized his weak position.

“Yeah, sure.” The lawyer sounded bored. “Now go.”

The door banged, and for an instant, they could hear nothing but the excited buzz of the cicada.

Then Rulo said, “Can you explain how the gun came to be underneath your bed,
Signor
Santorini?”

“No!” Ernesto's voice was still much too high. “I swear to God, to the Madonna! I've never seen the gun in my life.”

“Never?” Rulo's voice was dry.

“Never! I don't even know how to shoot! I've never held a gun.”

Rulo sighed. “You're hiding something, and let me tell you that you're doing a bad job. Even a fat loser like this
Commissario
Pucci can smell a rat when it's as badly hidden as that.”

“I'm not hiding a rat.” Ernesto sounded like a stubborn child. “I'm not hiding anything.”

“Wrong.” Rulo cut in with angry tone. “I know better, and I can tell you that your behavior is obstructing the case. Look, I've gotten quite a few criminals out, but you have to work with me to make it happen. I'm on your side.”

“Nobody's on my side.” Ernesto said so softly they almost didn't hear it.

Carlina swallowed. What had happened to her easy going cousin?

“Have it your way, but you have to know that I don't like to be defeated. If you're not willing to work with me, then I'll refuse to take your case.”

“Why did you come in the first place?” It was clear from Ernesto's tone that he had decided to keep the lawyer at arm's length.

“Because Stefano Garini called me. I don't have much use for him; he's too straitlaced, but the fact that he called me intrigued me. He must have been pretty scared to call me in, so I couldn't resist coming and having a look. But I won't be defeated by the stupid behavior of a scared teenager.”

“Stefano? Scared?” Ernesto sounded as if he had only taken in half the words.

“Yes.” Rulo said with an openness that bordered on brutality. “And from all I've seen, he has a right to be scared. So will you tell me all you know or won't you?”

Ernesto didn't reply.

Rule gave a snort. “Here's my card. I'm leaving. When you change your mind, call me. I've booked a hotel two streets down. I'll give you until eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. If you don't contact me by then, I'll be off again to enjoy the rest of my holidays.”

Carlina grabbed Stefano by the arm. “Come along,” she whispered. “We've got to talk to Ernesto.”

They hurried around the house, keeping to the shadows as much as possible to avoid being seen. A thin moon was rising, and a soft murmuring wind relieved the heat of the day. Just before they came around the front corner, Carlina stopped. “Wait,” she hissed. “I don't want to meet Rulo.”

They watched as the lawyer strode out of the lobby; a scowl on his face. He had his cell phone at his ear and was barking something into it. Then he threw himself into a black Mercedes convertible and raced out of the hotel parking lot with tires screeching.

Carlina ran forward. She hurried through the lobby, intent on reaching Ernesto, but a wheelchair shot out of nowhere and came to a stop right in front of her. Carlina stumbled over it and lost her balance, but managed to avoid a fall by gripping the wheelchair. For a moment, one side of the wheelchair hung in the air, and it was touch and go if the whole thing would overturn with Aunt Violetta in it.

However, Aunt Violetta was much more flexible than her bulk and age led one to expect. She threw herself to the side and managed to get the wheelchair back onto the ground again. “What on earth do you think you're doing, Carlina?” Her booming voice filled the lobby.

“Sorry, Aunt Violetta.” Carlina still held onto the armrest of the wheelchair. “I . . . I just wanted to reach Ernesto.”

“He's talking to that lawyer. A nasty bit of work, that man, if you ask me.” Aunt Violetta glowered at Garini. “I have no idea why you called him in. He doesn't even have a nose.”

“He's the best attorney I know.” Garini said. “When did you talk to him?”

Aunt Violetta drew herself up. “I wanted to be present when he talked to Ernesto, to help the lad, but this . . . this terrible piece of work threw us out.”

“Us?”

“Yes. Benedetta, Fabbiola, and myself.”

Carlina saw a muscle twitch at the side of Stefano's mouth and could guess what he was thinking. No lawyer in his right mind would allow those three undeniable forces to join in a difficult interview. Hastily, she said, “Let's see if we can talk to Ernesto now.”

“I'm coming, too.” Aunt Violetta turned her wheelchair with dexterity and rolled down the lobby.

Carlina gave Stefano an apologetic look and shrugged her shoulders, then she ran after her.

When they reached Ernesto's room, the door stood half-way open. Aunt Violetta flung it open. “Ernesto, what did that awful man--?” She broke off.

Carlina looked over her into the room and saw that it was empty. The French door leading to the garden was open, with the thin gauze curtain that veiled the doors moving like rippling water in the soft wind.

“Maybe he's in the bathroom.” Aunt Violetta rolled her wheelchair over and flung open the door without so much as a knock.

But Ernesto wasn't in the bathroom, either.

“He's gone.” Her voice was bitter. “I wonder where he went.”

“No doubt he needed a bit of time to recuperate this strength.” Carlina gripped Stefano's hand and pulled him back. “In fact, I think I need some time to recuperate, too. It was an exhausting morning. See you later, Aunt Violetta.”

Before her determined relative could hold her back, Carlina hurried down the corridor, pulling Stefano with her. When they reached the haven of their room, she closed the door behind her with a bang and turned the key for good measure. Then she leaned with her back against it and faced Stefano across the room. Her words were a challenge and yet, full of fear. “Do you think Ernesto killed him?”

He didn't bat an eye. “I'm not sure.”

Carlina took a deep breath. “Neither am I. Just an hour ago, I would have sworn that he could on no account have had anything to do with the murder, but his behavior is--” she broke off, looking for a word.

“Suspicious.” Stefano supplied.

“Yeah, suspicious. And I couldn't believe it when that stupid Pucci said he'd found the gun underneath Ernesto's bed. It doesn't look good.”

“No.”

She stared at him. “But Ernesto is so gentle. He's not the boxing type, not the typical alpha male who has to prove his worth by showing off.”

Stefano gave her a crooked smile. “Is that what alpha males are doing? Showing off by murdering people?”

“Let's not get distracted by a side issue.” Carlina returned the smile, but her heart was heavy. “Why doesn't he trust us? What on earth happened last night? He's like a different boy. Or man, whatever.” She bit her lower lip. “You know, until now, I've always thought of Ernesto as a boy. But now, I'm not so sure. There's something very . . . very adult about him.”

Stefano sighed. “If you mean that he's covering for someone, and if you mean that this is adult behavior, then I agree.”

Her eyes widened. “Of course, you're right! He's covering for someone. But whom? He has to be very attached to that person. Could it be Benedetta?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Can you see your aunt shooting someone?”

Carlina hesitated. “If it's to protect her children, then yes.”

“But in that case, she would come forward now. She'd never let Ernesto take the blame for something she's done.”

“That's true. How about his sisters? Emma?”

Stefano shrugged. “If it's Emma he's sheltering, I wonder why Lucio isn't involved. He's usually the first to protect his wife. However, I don't see any strange behavior in either Lucio or Emma.”

“Then it must be Annalisa.”

Garini made a wry face. “Annalisa wouldn't come forward to clear her little brother.”

Troubled, Carlina looked at him. “Oh, yes, she would.”

“Would she? Sometimes, my love, I think that you see your family in a way too rosy light.”

She swallowed. “Annalisa has not behaved in any conspicuous way either so far. In fact, she's astonishingly normal.”

“Which is conspicuous in itself,” he pointed out. “But I doubt that Pucci will, even for a moment, entertain that someone besides Ernesto can be the murderer.”

Carlina balled her fists. “Oh, how I wish that you were the one to investigate this case and not that fat, good-for-nothing
Commissario
Pucci.”

Stefano smiled. “That's the first time you've wanted me on a case involving your family.”

“Because I know you're fair! And correct. You don't accept the easiest solution just because it'll cause less work.”

He bowed. “Thanks for the flowers. But you are aware that my investigating this case would once again put a strain on our relationship, aren't you? The family is not amused when I treat them like suspects.”

She swallowed. “Never mind. I believe that
you
will find the truth.” Something inside her cracked, and she ran into his arms. “Please take the case.”

His arms tightened around her, and he sighed. “I'll see what I can do.” He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her skin, combined with the faint summery fragrance of dried grass that came through the open window. It felt good to be alone with Carlina, and he cherished being close to her, but he was also afraid of the way this case could develop. And how could he butt in on a case out of his jurisdiction?

Stefano's cell phone rang. With regret, he let go of Carlina and pulled the phone out of the pocket of his jeans, then looked at the display and raised his eyebrows. “Speaking of the devil. It's Cervi.”

Carlina opened her eyes wide. “I thought your boss had promised not to call you?”

Stefano held the buzzing phone in his hands, reluctant to answer it. Cervi had a tendency to call at strange times, and Stefano had made it a habit to ignore the calls whenever he felt it necessary, but this time was different. He had a feeling that this was about Ernesto, and if it was, he would be doing Carlina's cousin a big disfavor by not answering. With another sigh, he clicked on the green sign.
“Pronto.”

“Why does it take you so long to answer your phone?” Cervi didn't bother with a conventional greeting.

“It's the middle of the night on
ferragosto
.” Garini made sure his voice remained even. “And I'm on vacation.”

“A policeman can never be on vacation when he's needed.” His voice was so loud that it boomed from the receiver.