Telling Lies (11 page)

“
Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Aaron held up a hand to slow her down. “Delrusse could be getting shipments from several people in Florence. Or none. What?” he paused, noticing her dark expression. “Okay, calm yourself. I’ll ask Mickey to call Customs, and we’ll take it from there. In the meantime, I’ll head up to the Delrusse gallery tomorrow and see what’s going on.”

“
Good. Okay.” Helen nodded, her excitement under control.

“
How about you? Want to come with me?”

“
Not that I wouldn’t love to accompany you on such a worthwhile cultural expedition, but I can’t. I’ve got an appointment to meet with those darling Hammersmith boys, Gary and David. I’ll see if I can squeeze more out of them than I did from their dear stepmother.” She shivered at the memory of Alexandra Hammersmith, the ice queen, dripping with diamonds and venom.

* * *

Lior watched as Detective Gerrard exited the McCorkendale house and walked east toward First Avenue. He fired up the 4Runner’s motor, ready to follow. They believed that Sargasso was alive. More important, they thought Moto might be coming to America. Signaling, he pulled away from the curb and moved into the quiet street. Now,
that
would be an opportunity too good to pass up. He smiled and spoke a number into his hands-free phone.

Rebecca Weiss answered on the first ring. “Yes?”

“
It’s me. I need to see you right away.” He checked his watch. “Ten minutes.”

Lior smiled to himself. Tall, blond, and blessed with sophisticated looks that screamed old money, Rebecca would be the perfect companion for an outing to a chic, Madison Avenue art emporium: arm candy on the outside, a stone cold killer underneath.

Questura Headquarters

Florence, Italy

Walter Mariotti’s hands flew up to the sky like pigeons ascending from a piazza. “Who could do this?” His voice rose in volume. “Who could kill
una bella ragazza
and leave her to rot like that in the dirt and bushes?”

Laurel and Caterina exchanged knowing looks.

Earlier this afternoon, Caterina had phoned Walter at the villa just as they were finishing lunch. “Walter, it’s Caterina. The police have just called to tell me that Fredericka, my assistant, is dead. They found her body in
Piazzale Michelangelo
. A business card with the gallery’s name was in her bag. I told them she has no family here in Florence, so they asked me to go to Questura Headquarters to make a positive identification.
Allora
,” she paused to catch her breath. “Do you think it would be possible for you to join me there?” Walter Mariotti had agreed immediately. He walked back outside to the terrace where his family and guests were chatting leisurely over wine and fruit and explained about Caterina’s call and the tragedy that had just occurred.

Laurel had listened intently as he told them about the young woman’s death.

“
My God,” said Tony. “I know her. She dated
il mio
amico
, my friend, Marco, for a while. What happened?”

“
I don’t know, but I can’t let Caterina face this alone. She needs my help. The Florence
polizia
—they can often be unaccommodating,” he explained for the benefit of Laurel and Jenna.

“
Go then.” Franca reached up and took her husband’s hand. “Don’t keep Caterina waiting. But please, let us know what is going on as soon as you can.”

A cold feeling of dread swept over Laurel as her mind processed what had happened. “Walter, wait a moment, please.” She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “Was Caterina’s assistant at the gallery the day we were there?”

“
She might have been. Caterina has a tiny office in the back where Fredericka worked. Why do you ask?”

A frown spread across her face. “It’s just a feeling. I don’t know, but maybe she overheard us talking about Sargasso and knew him.” She looked up at Walter before continuing. “I want to come with you.” She rose quickly from the table, her instincts on full alert.

Jenna’s eyes flashed a warning. “Maybe you should stay here and let Walter and the police handle this.”

“
I think that would be best …” The words died on Walter’s lips as Laurel held up a hand in protest. “All right.
Presto.
Quickly. Let’s go.”

Hours later, Laurel and Caterina, tired and irritated, were silently watching as Walter paced up and down the narrow corridor of Questura Headquarters, waiting for the detective assigned to the case, Ispettore Donato Lucchese, to make an appearance. Hands curling into fists, anger replacing anxiety in his expression, Walter Mariotti strode over to the officer who manned the front desk and demanded to see the Ispettore immediately. He wanted answers and was tired of waiting for them.

* * *

Caterina, who was dressed in somber black, looked at Laurel through eyes reddened from crying. She had identified Fredericka Bellabocca’s body a short while ago and was visibly distraught. Sitting on a bench in an alcove off the main entranceway, Laurel followed Caterina’s gaze as it moved toward Walter.

Caterina shook her head remorsefully. “I should have realized that something was wrong and asked her about it.”

Laurel reached over and took her hand. “How could you know something like this would happen? What could you have done?”

“
It was the day you and Walter stopped by the gallery. She came into the showroom right after you left. We talked about business, and then I began to ask her about any new dealers she may have heard about, you know, to see if she might have run into Sargasso. All of a sudden, she became pale and ill.” Tears threatened to spill from Caterina’s eyes, and emotion clogged her throat. “Fredericka said her stomach was upset from the lunch she’d eaten, and she left the shop before I had a chance to speak with her again.” Caterina shuddered. “Later, I realized that she never answered my question about the dealers. That was the last time I saw her.”

Taking a deep breath, Caterina put her head in her hands, trying to compose herself. “When she didn’t arrive for work yesterday, I wasn’t too worried.” She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “I thought perhaps that her stomach was still bothering her. But this morning, when the Questura contacted me and told me they found her body and that she’d been murdered …” Her words trailed off, and her eyes focused on something only she could see.

Laurel’s mind was whirling. Fredericka had been a very popular young woman. And, if she were involved with Jeff Sargasso, it would explain her reaction to Caterina’s questions.

The police had discovered Fredericka’s body hidden haphazardly behind a stand of bushes in
Piazzale Michelangelo
. On mild evenings, tourists and locals alike thronged through the park, and it became a mad house. High above the city, its sweeping vistas of Florence were only part of the attraction. The dance bands, carnival rides, and gelato sellers all did their best to compete for the attention of the crowds that swarmed over its paths like bees in a hive. It would be easy, reflected Laurel, to entice someone to a quiet spot away from the noise and kill her. Certainly no one would pay any attention to a man strolling through the park on a lovely spring evening.

Startled by raised voices coming from the vestibule, Laurel turned her thoughts to the grim reality of the present. Walter Mariotti was towering over a small, beefy man with a dark, bushy mustache, their faces mere inches apart. He’d backed him into a wall, and the man seemed to be doing his best to put breathing room between them. So much for the Italian concept of personal space, thought Laurel, as Walter moved closer and closer, his voice becoming louder and louder with each step, until the other man threw up his hands in defeat.

Backing off just the slightest bit, Walter gestured to Laurel and Caterina to join him. “
Signorine
, this is Ispettore Donato Lucchese, the detective assigned to
our case
,” he emphasized the last few words to leave no doubt about his intentions.

“
Piacere.
” The Ispettore nodded to acknowledge Caterina and Laurel. “Please, come this way. We will be more comfortable speaking in my office.”

I’ll bet
. Laurel noticed the small knot of police officers, who had been watching their little drama with amusement.

Ispettore Lucchese led the way to a small, dark, sparsely furnished room off the main corridor and, once everyone was seated, turned to Caterina. “I’m so sorry for the loss of your colleague, Signorina Toscana. Please believe me, we will do everything in our power to find out who committed this terrible crime.”

Caterina, now entirely composed, was once again the calm, confident woman Laurel had met several days ago. Laurel noticed that Caterina had raised an eyebrow at the Ispettore’s words. She knows he’s giving her the party line, and she’s not buying it.

When she replied, Caterina’s demeanor gave away nothing. “I have no doubt that you will, Ispettore. My good friend and client Vice Questore Verdi has told me many times that he believes Florence’s Questura is the finest police force in Italy. I’ve never had a reason to doubt him.”

Laurel could see by the Ispettore’s guarded expression that her words had struck home. Walter shot an admiring glance at Caterina and, smart man that he was, let her take the lead.

“
Now, tell me Ispettore, just what do you know about Fredericka’s death?” She nailed him with an unblinking stare.

Clearing his throat, he reached across his desk to a large, rectangular cardboard box with Fredericka’s name scrawled on the side and removed a file from within. Leafing through it, he selected a sheet of paper and began to summarize the information it contained. “The coroner places the time of death between ten p.m. Tuesday and four a.m. Wednesday. Signorina Bellabocca was shot once above her left shoulder blade. The bullet traveled downward and passed through her heart. She was killed instantly.”

He stopped for a moment, then took out another piece of paper from the file. “There were fragments of fabric in the wound, indicating that the gun was placed directly against her body when it was fired. The angle of the bullet’s entry suggests that the killer placed his hands around her from the front and then fired.”

That son of a bitch embraced her before he shot her. Laurel shuddered.

Ispettore Lucchese looked at Caterina, who was still watching him intently. “Then the killer or killers placed her body under the bushes on the outskirts of the park, where some children playing ball discovered it.” He slid the sheets back into the folder and looked at the group.

“
Did you find the murder weapon?” asked Walter.

The Ispettore shook his head. “We have the area sealed off and are doing a thorough search. We are confident we will find it.”

Not if the murderer took it with him, Laurel almost replied.

“
What about witnesses?” asked Caterina. “In such a busy place, surely someone saw her and whomever she was with.”

“
We are questioning all the vendors who were in that part of the park late Tuesday evening or early Wednesday morning. But so far, no one we’ve spoken to remembers seeing the victim or hearing a shot.”

“
Ispettore Lucchese, did you find anything else at the crime scene?” asked Laurel. “Anything that would help to identify who did this?”

“
Unfortunately not, signorina. I’m sorry, but that is all I have for the moment. Of course,” he swept his hand in a wide, encompassing gesture, “I am confident that will change. Then I will contact you.”

As he did so, his right hand knocked into the evidence box on his desk and sent it flying to the floor. Startled, Laurel, who was seated closest, bent down to help gather up the contents, which included several files plus Fredericka’s handbag, jewelry, clothing, and shoes—all sealed in plastic evidence bags. Suddenly, her hand came to a stop over a smaller bag that had landed near her feet. Suppressing a gasp, Laurel hesitated before reaching for it.
Oh my God.

“
Grazie
,
signorina,
I’ll get that.” The Ispettore placed his hand under hers and swiftly scooped up the bag.

The small group stood and said their goodbyes. Once outside in the soft light of the late afternoon, Laurel turned toward her companions, words tumbling out in a troubled stream. “Ispettore Lucchese lied to us.” Emotion filled her voice. “The police do have a clue.” She looked into their troubled faces. “That small bag I was about to pick up? I recognized what was in it before the Ispettore made it disappear. It was the same pin that Jeff Sargasso was wearing in his lapel when I bumped into him in the museum.”