Mozzarella Most Murderous (29 page)

“Capri,” Hank said, pointing to the shadowed rise of the island from the sea. “Best picture you’ll get of it,” he promised.

I was enchanted and reached for my camera while Bianca looked over the cliff hundreds of feet down to the water crashing below. First I took several pictures of the island, then of foaming surf, bracing myself against a rock lest I fall.

“Now ladies,” said Hank. “I have another surprise for you.”

I turned, my head full of beautiful scenery and rich desserts, and he was pointing a gun at us.
A gun!

“We can hardly be seen here from the road. Perfect choice on my part, isn’t it?” he said, fishing a handkerchief from his pocket and blowing his nose with the gun-free hand.

I was stunned speechless. What in the—

“So you each have a choice. You can jump now, or you can lie down, and I’ll throw you over one by one. And I’ll take another one of those cough drops, Carolyn.”

He looked quite serious about both the cough drops and killing us. Of all the nerve! He could cough until he choked before I’d give him another one of my Eucalyptus lozenges, I thought, incensed. In fact, maybe if his cough continued to worsen, we could overpower him. Or not. He was
so
large.

 

Frightened out of
my wits, I stared at Hank Girol, who was leaning against a rock, coughing and pointing the gun in our direction, while we, fools that we were, stood at the edge of the cliff. I realized too late that I had made some very serious mistakes. First, I should have taken that rental contract seriously. Second, even if I didn’t take it seriously, I shouldn’t have jumped at the chance to go to Capri. And third, I should have at least told Carolyn about the contract so she, who was not addled by advanced pregnancy, could have taken it seriously and refused to go anywhere with him. “You’re kidding, right?” I asked hopefully.

“No, I’m not,” he replied, no charming smiles or good-natured banter now. “Jump or lie down where you can’t be seen if anyone should come down the road.”

Carolyn hesitated, then lay down. For goodness sake! Wasn’t she even going to argue for her life? At least she didn’t lie down on the edge of the cliff where he could roll her off. She carefully eased herself down onto her stomach so that her head was directly in front of his feet.

Hank laughed. “Throwing yourself at my feet, Carolyn? Or is that just the best you can do, besides hogging the cough drops, to make things difficult for me? I hope you realize, my nosy little detective, that I’m granting your wish. I’m pretty sure that you’ll be going to Capri. You should wash up there in a day or two.”

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded. I was the one who’d be pushed over, obviously. No way could I lie down, certainly not on my stomach. Terror forced the blood into my face, and I felt as if I’d suddenly developed a high fever.

“Don’t play dumb, Bianca,” he chided. “You know why it came to this. You just had to read those rental papers, and then as soon as we got back, you had to tell Carolyn. You practically dragged her into the elevator so you could pass on the news.”

“I did not,” I protested. Oh, God! I was getting dizzy. I couldn’t faint! I took a quick peek at Carolyn, who was untying his shoes. Why? Hoping he’d trip while carrying one or the other of us to the edge of the cliff. “We were both soaking wet and wanted to get to our rooms,” I protested. “I didn’t tell her anything.” I side-stepped away from the edge so that I could put my back against a tall, safe rock. Hank just laughed at me.

“Then it’s too bad she came along,” he said, “but since she’s here, she goes over too. No way I’m going to let you put me in Sorrento the night Paolina died.” He wiped his nose as he scowled at me.

“Then you killed her?” Even at this point, I found it hard to believe that he had killed Paolina. “Why would you?” I was taking deep breaths in between each sentence, trying to overcome the dizziness induced by abject terror.

“The bitch had the intercom on, making notes on a conversation I had with Ruggiero in Catania. She snapped the machine off as I was coming out the door and shoved the notebook in her desk. Probably thought I didn’t notice.”

His voice, hoarse and angry, gave me the shivers, as if I wasn’t already terrified. Still, I had to keep him talking because Carolyn, when I glanced at her, was now messing with both his shoelaces. I didn’t know what she was up to, or what good it was going to do, but maybe we had a chance if I could keep him from looking down.

“Couldn’t you have stolen the notebook? Or bribed her to keep quiet?”

“Not too bright are you, little Miss Italy.” Another spasm of coughing hit him. “I did try to get the notebook,” he snarled. “Ruggiero and I searched the office after she went home, then I followed her home and fucked her, and searched her apartment as soon as she went to sleep. No notebook. After that I told Ruggiero, who isn’t much brighter than you are, not to meet her in Sorrento. He thought no way would she snoop on him; she was in love.” Hank laughed derisively. “Like hell she was in love. Not with him. Not with anyone.

“I followed her to Sorrento, searched her room, still no book, so I caught her at the pool and dumped her over. The book was in the pocket of her robe. Just like I thought, it had notes on what we’d said, those and some stupid poetry. So with Paolina dead and the book in my hands, the problem was solved, or would have been if Carolyn hadn’t kept sticking her nose in when Constanza almost had everyone convinced it was suicide. She probably thought she was protecting Ruggiero.”

He snickered, which brought on his cough, but as soon as he mentioned Carolyn, I started toward him so he had to keep looking at me. “D-did you kill Ruggiero too?” I stammered.

“Sure. Once the general showed up, I couldn’t trust Ruggiero not to try for a plea bargain by implicating me.” His mouth pulled into a cruel line, and he said, “Enough talking. Are you jumping, Bianca? If not, lie down. Right now.”

“I can’t lie down! In my condition, it looks like four miles to the ground. And I certainly can’t lie on my stomach. Look at it.”
And keep looking at it
, I thought.
Don’t look at Carolyn.
“Are you really going to kill a woman carrying a baby? It’s almost ready to be born. It’s got fingers and toes and feelings and—”

“Shut up!” he snarled, and tried to take a step forward. Carolyn rolled out of the way as he fell, flinging out his arms in a futile attempt to maintain his balance. Still coughing, he rocketed headfirst into the rock behind my back. If he’d been shorter, he’d have missed the rock and hit the ground, but he was a very large man.

If I hadn’t sidestepped, he’d have hit me. I just stood there, dumbfounded. “What did you do?”

Carolyn had jumped immediately to her feet and was running toward him. “Tied his shoelaces together,” she said, kneeling beside him. “I can’t believe it worked.”

I got the giggles. Hysterical giggles. Tied his shoelaces together? That was something children did to each other. But I could see the blood leaking out from under his head. Still, what if he was conscious? With great difficulty I leaned over to pick up a rock, which I’d drop on his head if I had to, but then I wasn’t able to straighten up. I could have cried.

“He’s unconscious,” she said. I turned my head sideways to see her rolling his eyelid up. Then she felt for a pulse and said, “But still alive.” She glanced at me—bent over, clutching my rock in one hand, and trying to push myself up with the other. “What are you doing, Bianca?”

“Well, I was trying to get a weapon, but now—”

“The weapon was a good idea. I don’t see his gun anywhere.” Looking worried, she glanced at Hank, then walked over to me and hauled me upright.

“So what do we do now?” I asked. “We could leave him here and drive off.”

“Do you have a cell phone?” She was brushing dirt off the front of her flower embroidered knit shirt and her matching slacks.

“No, I was in such a hurry to get ready for the trip to Capri that I forgot all about it.”

“And I,” said Carolyn, “don’t have one at all. Jason doesn’t believe in them.”

I was astounded. “Everyone in Italy has a cell phone. In a few years I’ll be getting one for the baby.” I patted my stomach.

“Maybe
he
has one,” said Carolyn, looking down at Hank. “On the other hand, maybe we don’t want the police here. They might put us in jail and let him loose. I guess I’d better untie his shoelaces. That way it will look like he fell naturally.”

“But if he wakes up and they’re untied, he can push us over the edge,” I protested.

“What we need to do is lock him in the luggage compartment and take him back to the general,” Carolyn decided.

We both heard a car whoosh past and looked nervously toward the road. The car didn’t stop. “He’s huge, Carolyn,” I pointed out. “There’s no way we can get him to the car, much less into the luggage compartment, which may not be large enough to hold him. It would attract attention if there was a leg hanging out.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “We have to flag down a car and get someone to help us.”

“Help us what? Put him into the luggage compartment? How are we going to explain that?”

“Into the back seat. We’ll say he fell, and he’s your husband. You can act all hysterical.”

“I feel hysterical,” I muttered.

Carolyn nodded. “And they’ll put him in the back seat for us, and we’ll drive home.”

“Praying he doesn’t come to while the Good Samaritans are getting him into the car,” I added.

“Or while we’re driving back,” Carolyn agreed. “One of us will have to sit in back with a rock and knock him out again if he regains consciousness.”

“Well, if you can get me in the back seat, I’ll sit
on top
of him. No way he can get up with me using him for a chair. And I wouldn’t mind hitting him. Actually, maybe we should just roll him off the cliff.”

“How will we explain it to the general when we come home in Hank’s car but without Hank?” Carolyn asked.

“I wonder how he was going to explain coming home without us,” I retorted.

“And we have to deliver him to the general, or the general will continue to think Constanza is the killer.”

I sighed. “You’re right. We have to take him back. We can’t leave Constanza in jail.”

“But there’s another problem,” said Carolyn. “I can’t drive a stick shift.”

I groaned. How was I going to get my stomach behind the wheel of the car and still reach the pedals? “I vote we roll him off the cliff and worry about the explanations later.”

“But that’s murder,” Carolyn objected.

 

I offered to
walk to the road and flag down a car, but Bianca didn’t want to be left alone with him, so she went, and I sat down on a rock, ready to hit him with a more portable rock if he woke up and hoping not to be caught in the act by any strangers she might inveigle into helping us. As I waited, I mused on the things he’d said. Something about a car rental that Bianca obviously knew about but had neglected to tell me. And he’d admitted to both killings. Could he be convicted on our testimony? Undoubtedly he’d deny having confessed.

After about fifteen minutes I began to worry about Bianca. What if she had passed out, or fallen and hurt herself, or gone into labor? Maybe she was suffering from heat stroke and was too weak to wave down a car. I felt overheated myself. After studying Hank carefully and detecting no signs of returning consciousness, I decided that I could afford a trip to the car for my new sun hat, which proved to be a good decision. I felt much more comfortable with it on my head. I’d give Bianca another fifteen minutes and then—what? Leave him here and walk to the road? I couldn’t do that unless I found his gun. He could wake up and come after us with it. So I had to find it, but it didn’t seem to be anywhere in the area, not under or on top of any of the rocks.

I thought back to his fall. The gun hadn’t gone off while he was trying to maintain his balance. Maybe it was underneath him. The thought of trying to retrieve it sent a shudder through me. However, if Bianca came back with help, and they lifted him up and saw the gun, they’d know something was wrong with our story. People in Europe aren’t like people in Texas; they aren’t allowed to go around with guns in their glove compartments and pockets. Which made me wonder how Hank had gotten hold of his. He certainly hadn’t brought it with him.

I stared down at him with dismay. He was
so
big! I made another search of the area for the gun. It definitely wasn’t here, and the chances that it had flown over the rock on which he’d hit his head and fallen into the sea were minimal indeed. Biting my lip, I leaned forward and tried to nudge him over. No luck. It was going to take more than a nudge. I knelt and tried again with a hearty shove. Still no luck. What I needed was a lever. Alas, the only thing I could think of was my beautiful platter in the trunk, and I needed the car keys to get into the trunk.

Gritting my teeth, I stuck my hand into his trouser pocket, expecting that he would leap up and grab me. Thank God, he didn’t, and the keys were in that pocket, although very difficult to extract. I had the ring, but a key must have caught on something. Desperate, I gave the ring a sharp tug, heard the sound of cloth ripping, and the key ring came free. But now his pocket had a noticeable, jagged tear. Would the hoped-for rescuers think that strange? At least, Hank still seemed to be unconscious. So far, so good.

I walked backward to the car, thinking he could wake up any minute, unless he was going to die. Oh dear, would tying his shoelaces together with malicious intent constitute murder? Or self-defense? Did they have a self-defense plea in Italy? I opened the trunk, pulled it toward me, and peered in—and what did I see? Besides the clutter of our shopping trip, a tire iron. Perfect. I wouldn’t have to ruin my platter. I almost fell into the trunk trying to retrieve the tire iron. What kind of a car was this anyway? Convertibles were supposed to have bucket seats. This one had bench seats. Convertibles were often twoseaters. This car seated six if you didn’t mind being squished together. And the luggage area worked more like an old-fashioned rumble seat. While I was hanging over the edge, my legs dangling, I expected Hank to come up behind me, shove me inside, and lock me up. To avoid that, I kept a tight grip on the keys.