Delayed Death (Temptation in Florence Book 1) by Beate Boeker Read Free Book Online Page B

lock her up.
    Carlina shook her head. "Now relax, my girl," she said to herself. "Forget the policeman made of stone and think about it without emotions." She forced herself to think through her options. Even if the interview didn't go the way she had planned, nothing worse could happen. They would make that stupid autopsy; they would realize it had been a natural death, and that was it. She could relax now.
    She bit her lips. Just one problem remained. What if the autopsy revealed that Grandpa had died earlier than Carlina had claimed? She had no idea how long he had been dead when they had found him. Not very long, but what did that mean in hours or minutes? Hadn't she seen on TV that it was almost impossible to pin down a death to an exact moment? Surely they wouldn't be able to do that. If they did the autopsy in a few days, it would be even more difficult. Hadn't she read this somewhere?
    Carlina got up and decided to put all thoughts about her grandfather's death behind her. But in spite of all her reasoning, she felt jumpy all day long. When she couldn't stand it anymore, she grabbed her keys, took her trusted Vespa, and roared around the hills of Florence. For once, it didn't help. The Commissario's lean face and hard eyes were imprinted on her mind like an image of Nemesis. Cool down, silly. Carlina stopped her Vespa on top of a hill, took off her helmet with the leopard print, and breathed the soft evening air. It smelled of rosemary from a nearby hedge. You're exaggerating him. The image you remember is distorted by emotion. Nobody can look as fierce as that. Carlina sat without moving and looked around the scenery she loved. Already dusk settled below a mauve sky. The evening light spun a golden haze over the dark outline of the trees on the hilltops around her, and on the fields, fog gathered like foamy water. In the valleys, windows sprung to light, warm islands of comfort. Carlina took a deep breath. Don't worry. You'll never see him again.

III
    "So what do you make of the Mantoni family?" Stefano led the way to his office and pushed open the gray door. It squeaked as always, and Stefano thought for the hundredth time that he should remember to bring oil for the hinges.
    Piedro shrugged. "From what they said, the victim must have been bananas."
    Stefano nodded. "To me it seemed as if the whole family was odd." He smiled at his subordinate. "Sit down, Piedro." He waited until Piedro had taken a seat in front of his old desk, then stretched himself out in his own chair. "Anything else?"
    Piedro took out his notes and studied them before he looked up. "Nothing. I don't think there was anything suspicious at all. Of course some were nervous, and some were excited, but that's pretty normal, isn't it?"
    "Yes." Stefano looked at Piedro and decided to help him along. "Who was nervous, and who was excited?"
    "Let me see." Piedro leafed through his notes. "The twin, Teodoro, he was excited. Loved the whole thing. Am not sure about the daughter of the victim. Name of Fabbiola Mantoni-Ashley. Funny name, that one."
    "She said she had been married to an American. Didn't you note that?"
    "No."
    Stefano frowned. I have to read his notes later and add the things he forgot. "You should add it. How did her behavior strike you?"
    "Well." Piedro looked at his notes as if he hoped for inspiration. His gelled-up hair stood up in spikes. "First, she was excited, but later, she seemed worried about her daughter."
    "Yes. Do you think that was unusual?"
    Piedro shrugged. "Not really. I just wondered why she got all worked up. She didn't look as if she needed to be protected. The daughter, I mean. What was her name? Carlina."
    "No. Caroline Ashley."
    Piedro frowned. "Everybody called her Carlina."
    "A nickname." For an instant, Stefano saw Carlina's pale face again. The freckles had made her look younger than she was. Her eyes reminded him of a cat, slanted and intelligent.
    Piedro shrugged off the name. "She acted real nervous."
    "Yes,