Free temptation in florence 05 - seaside in death by Beate Boeker Page A

“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