Venice Noir by Maxim Jakubowski (ed.)

Author:Maxim Jakubowski (ed.) [Jakubowski, Maxim]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 1617750735
Google: YK6bmJd1fHEC
Amazon: 1617750735
Barnesnoble: 1617750735
Goodreads: 13237034
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2011-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

Laura's eyes darkened. She knew that kind of promise. It was a way of softening a no.

The ringing of the phone shattered the moment of intimacy between mother and daughter. At that time of night it couldn't mean anything good.

"Sorry," Clelia muttered. She had no choice but to run into the corridor and rummage for her phone in her bag. "Where did I put the damn thing? Ah . . . here we are!"

The voice at the other end sounded frantic. "Clelia, it's Franco. I wouldn't have disturbed you this late if it wasn't something really urgent."

"What is it?"

"Just over an hour ago someone called HQ to report a noise that sounded like a shot. Officers found a body—it's Luciano Restivo, the owner of an ad agency on the Lido. You must've heard of him—he made a name for himself with those campaigns for the Venice Film Festival."

"Yes, I know the name. Is it murder?"

64 // Venice Noir

"That's the thing. Everything suggests suicide, but my sixth sense says it isn't. You know when my alarm bell goes off?"

"I know it well, your alarm bell. It usually means trouble."

"Judge Carmine Mezzogiorno is here already. I'd feel better if you'd come over here and share your opinion."

"Give me the address. I just need time to find a babysitter and then I'll be there."

Clelia arrived at the Ad Work agency with an ominous feeling in her bones. The street was crowded with police vehicles. An ambulance was parked in front of the gate, surrounded by a small crowd of onlookers. Inspector Franco Armati came toward her with one of his crooked smiles. He was a good-looking man, Armati, and he knew it. Chestnut-brown hair, always tousled, aquiline nose, untidy beard, and blue eyes ringed with laughter lines that only added charm to his seemingly disheveled appearance.

"I have to say that you're even more attractive than usual this evening, Clelia."

"Spare me the sweet talk, Franco—you sound like a geriatric Latin lover. Where's the body?"

"Always in a hurry, eh? It's one of the things I like about you most."

Clelia gave a snort, but she couldn't help letting a smile play on her lips. In the beginning Franco's one-liners had annoyed her. As the commissario, she was still his boss. Besides, she didn't put up with sexist remarks. She was an officer in the police force, and the fact that she was a woman was irrelevant. Then, as time went on, she had discovered that Franco was the best colleague she could wish for, vigilant and thorough in investigations: he didn't leave any stone unturned and his razor-sharp instinct helped him to solve complicated cases. In

Barbara Baraldi // 65

addition, he was the only person who ever noticed—with just one glance—if something was wrong in Clelia's private life. "Everything okay, boss?" he would ask. "Sometimes a coffee's all you need to feel better." He always managed to get a smile out of her.

"This way." Franco led her along a narrow corridor lined with doors, all closed, to the office of the agency's chief executive, Luciano Restivo.

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