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Murder in Italy
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MURDER IN ITALY
By
Dianne Harman
(A Midwest Cozy Mystery - Book 6)
Copyright © 2019 Dianne Harman
www.dianneharman.com
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Paperback ISBN: 9781792199349
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For Tom. I remember everything about our trip to Italy. Thank you for making this wonderful country come alive for me.
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Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
EPILOGUE – SIX MONTHS LATER
RECIPES
ABOUT DIANNE
PROLOGUE
Bruno Lombardi leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and looked out over his Sardinian vineyard and the bright azure blue sea beyond it. The tasting days were the best days of the year, and today was the first of those extra special days.
“This is the life, eh, Chiari?” he said. “The vineyard manager said this is the best year for grapes he’s ever seen, here or anywhere else. The wine will be fabulous. Just fabulous, I’m sure of it.”
“Hmm,” his wife Chiari said. She fiddled with her long black hair and didn’t look at all as enthusiastic as Bruno.
“Wine Spectator has already written about it,” he said. “And all the other magazines, of course. This year’s wine is really attracting a buzz.”
Chiari was as stunningly beautiful as she had always been. But her perfectly-lipsticked mouth did not stretch into a smile when, in response to her husband’s enthusiastic statement, she said, “That’s nice,” and continued staring off into space.
Bruno was starting to get annoyed. “Aren’t you happy about it?”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “But all I hear about is wine. While I am proud of you, very much so, sometimes I wish…” Her big brown eyes scanned his face. “Oh, never mind.”
Bruno softened a little. “Sometimes you wish what?”
“You’re always so busy. Let’s not let the years pass us by until we’re invalids, stuck in this enormous mansion. Let’s travel, before we get too old to go anywhere.”
“Hmm.”
“You’ve always said we’ll go to the United States someday, but it never happens. Why don’t we make it this year?”
“Yes, that would be nice, dear.” Bruno looked at his watch. “First I have to meet with the vineyard manager to discuss what we’ll concentrate on for the coming year. That’s a priority, but we’ll talk about going to the United States later.”
With that, he got up, leaving Chiari on the sweeping veranda to watch the sunset dip below the sea, just as she had done so many times before, alone. Bruno looked back momentarily, only to find her glowering in his direction. Women, he thought. Always far too demanding.
Chiari was the most provided-for woman in all of Sardinia. She could have a sumptuous feast for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and stay in a different bedroom each night of the month, if she wanted, there were so many. She had designer dresses from Milan, Paris, and New York sent to her, diamonds from Botswana, and expensive paintings from all over the world. What more could she possibly want?
Bruno went inside the house to see if the preparations had been made for the tasting. He was a little early, but he was too excited to wait patiently. He wanted to be in the wine cellar at the very first possible moment after everything had been organized.
He strode through the marble-floored salon toward the back rooms.
“Well,” he said authoritatively to his vineyard manager, who was just coming up from the cellar. “I trust everything’s ready?”
“All prepared, yes, sir,” the vineyard manager said. “Now, before the grand moment, do you have a few minutes to speak about our plans for the coming year?”
“You know I always have time to talk about wine,” Bruno said. “Let’s go into the salon.”
“Yes, sir. What would you like to drink?”
“Water, obviously,” Bruno said sharply. “You know I don’t want to compromise my palate.”
“Of course, sir.”
They spoke about the upcoming year for quite a while. Bruno was in his element when he was talking and planning about wine.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I have to head off for my daughter’s school play,” the vineyard manager said. “Everything is set up as usual in the cellar. I look forward to hearing your feedback tomorrow.”
Bruno smiled and shook his hand heartily. “Yes, absolutely. I am sure it will be as spectacular as we… and the rest of the world… imagine.”
“Indeed!”
Bruno paused at the doorway leading to the cellar, savoring every moment. These were perhaps the best of his life. The moments he most cherished. He opened the door, seeing the soft golden lights he’d chosen for ambience, lighting up the cellar with a warm glow.
He went down the stairs and soon the most pleasing view came into sight – the table. His table. His new release table. It was a sturdy, old-fashioned heavy table that had come from his grandmother’s kitchen. He’d loved eating at it as a little boy, his dark-haired head barely reaching high enough for him to shovel forkfuls of ravioli into his mouth.
Chiari had said it didn’t go with the sleek white décor she’d picked out for the kitchen, so it wouldn’t fit in there. Bruno had been furious at first, until he’d realized that his pride of place was not in the kitchen, but in his wine cellar. So there the old table sat along his passion, his endless sea of bottles of wine.
He approached the table and saw that all of the items he needed were there – the chair, the pen, the paper, a crystal wine glass, and an open bottle of wine. He didn’t like to have to work with corks when he was tasting a new release.
It was a Cannonau di Sardegna, like a fifth of the other wines produced on the island. But his wine was one in a million, he told himself as he took his seat. He was certain it would be raved about in respected wine publications worldwide.
After he was seated, he poured the wine, savoring the trickling sound he so loved to hear. He smelled it – a gorgeously rich berry smell, with a most pleasing scent of spice mingling in with it. He swirled the rich red wine in his glass, watching it create its own little whirlpool. Then he sipped it.
Yes, he thought as he savored the sumptuous meeting of spice and fruit. It is exquisite!
As he picked his glass up for another sip, the room around him became a blur. He felt himself falling sideways off his chair. Both Bruno and the chair crashed on the floor with a loud thud. The wine glass in his hand smashed on the floor, and wine poured out like so much blood, gathering in a small pool on the flagstone floor.
Bruno was dead.
CHAPTER 1
Kat Denham looked
out the window of the plane as they made their descent into JFK airport in New York. She and Blaine Evans, her district attorney husband, clinked their champagne glasses together.
“It looks like a little toy town from up here,” Blaine said with a laugh.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Kat replied, snuggling into his shoulder. “I’m so glad we’re getting away for a while. As much as I love our life together in Kansas, it’s great to have a change of scenery.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Blaine said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love being the District Attorney, but I’m looking forward to having a break from all the responsibilities of the job. We’ll come back refreshed and recharged.”
“Absolutely, but I already miss Lacie, Jazz, and Rudy.” Kat’s daughter, Lacie, who was studying to be a child psychologist, was back in their hometown of Lindsay, Kansas. She lived in an apartment with her boyfriend Tyler, but they’d temporarily moved into Kat and Blaine’s home to housesit and take care of Kat’s beloved dogs, Jazz and Rudy.
“I’m sure they’ll miss you, too,” Blaine said. “But Jazz and Rudy will have a great time with Lacie and Tyler. They’ll be so spoiled by the time we get back, you won’t recognize them.”
“That’s probably true,” Kat said. Lacie had a propensity for feeding the dogs far too many treats and picking up little toys from the store for them each time she went shopping. “They’ll love it. It’s just that it’s been a long time since I’ve been so far away from them.”
Blaine squeezed her hand. “Don’t forget, you need to take care of yourself, too. Trust me, you’re going to thoroughly enjoy our trip.”
Kat smiled. “I know that. Of course, being Deborah’s matron of honor is the most important thing on the trip’s itinerary. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.” Deborah was a very close friend of Kat’s. She’d been the head of the Sex Therapy Department at the university in Lindsay, but after a coed was murdered near the campus, she’d gone on a sabbatical to Italy and divorced her husband. It was meant to be a short trip, but since she’d snagged both a plum job and a wonderful man, it only made sense to stay.
She was now the head of the Sex Therapy Department at a university near Florence, and the fiancée of Luigi Giordano, a successful winemaker with a private plane and a house that was only a couple turrets short of being a castle. He was kind and attentive, according to Deborah, and Kat was so happy for her. Deborah was such a wonderful woman, and after everything she’d been through, Kat felt she absolutely deserved this newfound happiness.
“Not only are we going to enjoy Italy,” Kat said, looking down at New York with a smile on her lips, “I’m also planning on enjoying New York in style.”
“Not a problem,” Blaine said.
“Well, it certainly started with this flight,” Kat said. She settled back into her luxurious pod seat. “I can’t believe we’re flying first class.”
Kat had never really splurged on luxuries. It was Blaine who had persuaded her. “I want to treat you,” he’d said. “You deserve the best.” He was very free with money when it came to making other people feel happy. He’d inherited an insane amount when his parents had died and much of that money had been donated by him to charities and non-profits. However, there was still a lot left for him to spend as he wished.
Kat had let him take care of everything, from the flights to the hotel to their itinerary. If the flight from Kansas City to New York City was any indication, she couldn’t wait to see what else he’d come up with.
The landing was smooth, as was their journey through the airport to the taxi stand. “To the Four Seasons,” Blaine said to the driver, and before long they were pulling up at the grand entrance.
“Oh my,” Kat said, with a short intake of breath.
Her amazement only increased as they stepped inside the lobby. It was positively palatial, with grand pillars standing guard at each corner of the atrium. The ceiling was vaulted with a yellow skylight that cast warm light onto each of the gleaming marble surfaces.
She nudged Blaine as they made their way to the front desk. “Look,” she whispered. “Can you believe it? There are trees… inside!”
Sure enough, there were two full-sized trees just behind the reception desk.
It didn’t take long to check in and ride the elevator up to their floor. Soon they were stepping into their luxurious suite.
Kat would never have chosen the color scheme, but she loved it. Sweeping beige curtains were complemented by sleek gray furnishings. There was an enormous flat screen television in the living room, and even a gray grand piano. She wished she or Blaine knew how to play, and wondered if the hotel provided a complementary piano player as part of the room fee, which she knew must be astronomical.
Next she took a quick peek into the bathroom to see both a bath and a shower, warm-colored tiles, soft lighting, and plenty of white fluffy towels. The bedroom was wonderfully cozy, too, with mocha and beige striped curtains hanging to the floor, a king-sized bed with crisp white fresh linens, and a little reading nook with its own window looking out at the city.
Kat returned to the living room. “District Attorney Evans, what have you done?!” she asked as soon as the porter had left their bags for them. “This is simply incredible.”
Blaine grinned and put his arms around Kat’s waist.
“All for us, Sexy Cissy.” Kat was a successful author and Sexy Cissy was the pen name she used when she wrote her steamy romance books, while she reserved her own name for her mystery books. She’d almost quit writing after her editor was murdered and quite a few people figured out that she was Sexy Cissy. Sometimes in a teasing manner Blaine called her by that name, and she liked it. It was as if her writing steamy romance novels was a little secret between the two of them.
As they both looked out the huge floor to ceiling window that showed them an impressive panorama of skyscrapers, Kat said, “That’s going to look amazing tonight.”
“I just hope you enjoy yourself,” Blaine sid. “We need to get going, because we’ve only got a short time to take in as much as we possibly can.”
And take it all in they did.
First they went to Central Park, where they took a horse and buggy ride, which felt magical. Next, they spent far too long at Saks 5th Avenue, browsing around all the different specialty sections of the store. Kat bought a Mulberry handbag that was on sale. She also snuck off for a while and bought Blaine a bottle of his favorite aftershave, Ralph Lauren’s Polo Supreme Leather, as a surprise. It came in a lovely red bottle with gold detailing. Blaine broke into a smile when he saw it and kissed her cheek.
“Where shall we go for dinner?” Kat asked as they stepped out of Saks with their shopping bags.
“Aha, I’ve already taken care of that. Let’s go.”
They took a yellow cab, and soon they were at Le Bernardin, a well-known French restaurant. “I researched it online,” Blaine said. “It got terrific reviews.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s been featured in a lot of magazines I’ve read.”
To top off the evening, they headed to see the play Wicked at the Gershwin Theater on Broadway. Kat didn’t generally care for musicals, but she thought this one was worth the acclaim it had gotten, and the music was particularly rousing. She was sure Lacie would have loved it, and made a mental note that maybe they could take a mother-daughter trip to New York sometime.
After setting a phone alarm, and requesting a wake-up call from hotel reception just in case, they fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillow. It had been a very long, fully packed day, and they had an early flight to catch.
The next afternoon they landed in Florence just after 4:00 p.m., and cleared customs and immigration without any problems. When they walked out of the arrivals area and into the waiting area, the first person they saw was Deborah, looking fantastic in loose white linen pants and a powder blue shirt that matched her smiling eyes.
“Deborah,” Kat said, beaming.
She and Deborah
embraced each other in a long lingering hug.
“It’s so good to see you,” Deborah said, giving her a squeeze. “And you, Blaine. How was the flight?”
Deborah and Blaine kissed on each cheek.
“It was great,” Kat said. “Plenty of movies to keep us occupied.” She looked at the large, handsome man standing by Deborah’s side, who had dark hair that was graying at the temples in quite a distinguished way. “And you must be Luigi? We’ve heard so much about you.”
Kat and Luigi double-kissed, then Luigi shook Blaine’s hand.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” he said with a deep Italian accent. “Kat Denham, author extraordinaire and unofficial super detective, and the honorable and hard-working District Attorney Blaine Evans. So glad to finally meet both of you.”
“Oh, you flatter us,” Kat said. What a charming guy! she thought.
Deborah linked arms with Kat as they left the airport, while Blaine and Luigi took the bags and walked behind them. Kat smiled when she stepped out into the warm Italian air. A gentle breeze was blowing, keeping the heat comfortable.
“Wow, the weather’s great,” Kat said.
Deborah smiled. “Yep. Gotta love a little sunshine every day. It makes everything seem brighter, doesn’t it?”
They walked to a nearby black Mercedes Maybach parked in front of the airport terminal building, its chrome rims gleaming in the bright Italian sunlight.
“Here’s our little ride home,” Deborah said.
Blaine leaned over to Kat and whispered, “Do you know how much this thing costs?”
“More than our house, probably,” Kat whispered back through a laugh.
“You bet,” Blaine said. “It’s humongous.”
A large man wearing sunglasses and dressed in a police uniform was standing next to the car, as if he was guarding it. Luigi handed the man a few euros and said something in Italian.
Deborah laughed. “That’s the good thing about Italy. The car is illegally parked, but this guy doesn’t mind, as long as we sweeten him up a little bit.”