A Fashion Felon in Rome Read online

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, startled by their somberness.

  “Tomaso was killed in a boating accident this morning,” Denise revealed gravely as I gasped in horror.

  Chapter 2

  “That’s terrible!” I cried in disbelief, a vibrant vision of the young man floating through my mind. How could he be dead?

  “It’s awful,” Denise concurred, unable to suppress a shiver. “It was all over the Italian news this morning.”

  “Was anyone else hurt?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so. From what I heard, his boat smashed into a rock. Somehow he lost control of it,” Denise replied.

  “That’s what I heard too,” Evelyn said shakily. “They don’t know what caused it, but they think it could be some kind of mechanical failure.”

  “Or it could have been just an accident,” I suggested. “How early this morning was he on the water? If it was before dawn, then maybe he didn’t see the rock.”

  “But he said he’s been boating since he was 18, remember?” Denise protested. “I don’t think someone with that level of experience would make a careless mistake like that.”

  “Well, however it happened, it’s absolutely terrible,” I exhaled a trembling breath and slumped my shoulders.

  Directly in front of me, a set of nude mannequins stood waiting to be dressed up in sample gowns. Fabrics and scissors lay on an oblong table, untouched. How could we focus on such a frivolous project after receiving the harrowing news of Tomaso’s untimely death?

  “Did you know that Tomaso was only 25?” Evelyn asked sullenly as I flinched.

  “Only 25? This keeps getting worse and worse.” I shook my head sadly, thinking how ‘untimely’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how Tomaso’s life had been nipped in the bud.

  In contrast to her first grand entrance, Sophia walked solemnly into the room as all eyes immediately fixed on her. She parted her lips to take a breath, as though poised to make an announcement. Obviously, the news of Tomaso’s boating accident had reached her as well.

  “I would like to say buona mattina, ladies and gentlemen,” she began. “But it is not a good morning at all. You have probably all heard about the death of Tomaso Alegres. Very, very sad.” She bowed her head respectfully as I wondered if she was just putting on an act. Something in her demeanor was insincere, plastic, Oscar-seeking.

  She gathered up a dramatic breath and affixed her hand to her brow. “I don’t know why this happened. You can imagine the scandal this will cause. I was trying to do a good deed by inviting you amateur designers to Rome. It was supposed to make me look good…” she stopped herself as I realized the real reason she had brought us to Italy: for publicity. Certainly, she could afford Armani’s finest attire and the most outrageously priced pair of Jimmy Choos. She didn’t need a bunch of no-name wannabes to dress her up at a discount. No, Sophia wanted to draw attention to herself, maybe even appear heroic for sparking the careers of emerging artists.

  Before Sophia could continue her theatrical monologue, a group of police officers barreled into the ballroom. A short, stocky man at the front of the pack tapped Sophia on the shoulder and whispered something into her ear. She visibly stiffened, nodded, and addressed us once again.

  “I’m sorry to inform you that today’s round two elimination and audition has been postponed. Come back next week at this time and we will try to move forward.”

  Next week at this time? Next week at this time, I was supposed to be on a plane back to New York! And back to Richard. Plus, I had only budgeted for two weeks in a Roman hotel. I couldn’t afford to stretch my budget even one more night. The cautious, wise side of me screamed to go home now. Just get on a plane and go. This adventure had already fallen apart at the seams. But the reckless, daring side whispered to me to stay and see it through.

  Bewildered by the bizarre turn of events, I made my way towards the exit as a pair of officers approached Evelyn and Denise. Pretending not to notice, I kept walking, wondering if I was hallucinating as I heard someone whisper:

  “It was no accident. Someone cut the brakes on Tomaso’s boat. He was murdered.”

  ***

  In the safe cavern of my hotel room, I closed the curtains, contemplating whether I should call Richard. If I told Richard that someone in my group had died---perhaps even been murdered---he would be on the first plane to Rome. And I didn’t want to disrupt his life, especially his job. He was always juggling so many projects at his pressure cooker Manhattan job that I didn’t want to add any stress to the mix. Plus, I was in no imminent danger as far as I could see.

  Denise and Evelyn popped into my mind as I wondered why the officers had approached them. Were they suspects? Both of them had flirted rather shamelessly with Tomaso. Had one---or both---of them become involved with him? But we had all met just a week ago. It seemed too soon for anyone to become romantically linked, or had I been in a secure relationship for too long? Yes, I was being naïve. Tomaso was a gorgeous Latin man who could have easily seduced both Denise and Evelyn, among other women.

  Then there was the issue of accident versus homicide. If Tomaso had just arrived in Rome, then he couldn’t have made any enemies yet. Except perhaps for a scorned woman like Denise or Evelyn if they had indeed been intimate with him. But did either of those women have even the slightest knowledge of boats and how to sever a brake line? Evelyn had mentioned her desire to own a speedboat, but she could have just been spewing hot air. She probably knew as much about boats as Sophia knew about poverty. Nothing.

  Anyone who clipped the brakes would have had to possess at least a rudimentary knowledge of boats and electrical wiring. And he or she would have to have known which boat was Tomaso’s. Presumably, Tomaso didn’t lug his own boat all the way from Barcelona. So he must have rented a boat from somewhere in Italy.

  I scavenged around in my purse, retrieving a full color pocket map of Rome. Unfolding the map, I visually scanned for blue lines and the nearest body of water. Tourist cruises ran daily along the Tiber River, which was also the closest waterway to the convention center. Perhaps that’s where Tomaso had met his demise…

  My cell phone ringing snatched me out of my investigating. Seeing Richard’s info on the screen, I smiled and picked up. “Hi sweetie!”

  “What’s wrong?” He asked reflexively. Darn it, I had tried my best to sound normal, but I guess he knew me too well to be fooled.

  “What do you mean?” I feigned ignorance. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Babe, I could hear it in your voice. You sound very tense. What’s going on over there?” The blaring of police sirens and other city noises transmitted through the phone, telling me that Richard was in his midtown office.

  “Nothing. I guess I’m just a little homesick.” And that wasn’t a lie. The thrill of spooning gelato into my belly every day had faded the moment I found out about Tomaso’s death.

  “Well, you’ll be back here in a week. And believe me, I’m counting the days.”

  “So am I.” I bit my lower lip to prevent myself from telling Richard anything about the unfortunate event that had snaked its way into my life.

  “How’s everything been going with the design competition? Did Sophia pick the winner yet?”

  “No, not yet. I’ll let you know when…” I trailed off as the ringing of the hotel phone startled me. “Um, can you hold on a second, sweetie? Someone’s calling me at the hotel.”

  I tossed my cell onto the bed as I picked up the hotel phone from the nightstand. “Hello?”

  “Signorina Macchio?” A firm male voice inquired.

  “Yes,” I replied nervously.

  “This is Detective Giancarlo Cantino. I’d like to have a word with you regarding the death of Tomaso Alegres.”

  Chapter 3

  The burly, raven haired police officer stood menacingly in the hotel lobby. Next to the uniformed giant was a startlingly handsome man in a black leather jacket and form fitting jeans. They looked directly at me as
I stumbled over my own feet, petrified of whatever inquisition awaited me. Maybe I shouldn’t have hustled Richard off the phone without letting him know the possible peril I could be in. I could easily be whisked away to the police station without anyone back home knowing where to find me.

  “Detective Cantino?” I ventured, extending my hand as a peace gesture.

  Curtly, he shook my hand, nodded, and led me down a winding corridor. The leather-clad hunk followed at a close distance as neither man spoke. Opening the door to an empty conference room, Detective Cantino gestured for me to go inside. I complied, following his next cue to have a seat at a conference table. Both men sat across from me and regarded me gruffly. Under different circumstances, it would have been exciting to be in the same room as two such virile Italian men.

  “You are aware of the death of Tomaso Alegres, yes?” Detective Cantino began, still making no attempt to introduce the man adjacent to him.

  “Unfortunately, yes. I just found out this morning when I went to the Sheraton to do an, um, interview for Sophia Pucci.” I didn’t know how to explain that I was “auditioning” to be the actress’s personal fashion designer. These grim-faced men didn’t look like they would understand such a trifling enterprise.

  “We are aware of the competition Signora Pucci has arranged here in Rome,” Detective Cantino informed as my eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “You are?” And who is we? I wanted to ask. The whole police department? Or just the unidentified Clive Owen lookalike brooding silently at the table?

  “Yes, and we’re trying to get ahold of anyone who may have come into contact with Tomaso during the past week since he left Barcelona. Did you establish a personal relationship with Tomaso Alegres, Signorina Macchio?” The officer narrowed his gaze at me as I shook my head reflexively.

  “Not at all. I actually only met him once. The first day that Sophia Pucci had us all gather at the Sheraton,” I skipped a breath, wondering if I should tell the cop about how brazenly flirtatious both Denise and Evelyn had been.

  “Were you going to say something else?”

  “Um, well, I was just going to say that I think there may have been other women in our group who could have established a personal relationship with him,” I mimicked the officer’s formal language.

  “And who would you be referring to?”

  “I don’t remember their last names. But one of them is American. Her name is Denise. And then there was this British girl named Evelyn. Wait a second, her last name was Flowers. Yes, Evelyn Flowers. Anyway, they both seemed pretty interested in Tomaso…” I stopped myself and gulped. “Is it true that Tomaso’s death really wasn’t an accident? When I was walking out of the ballroom earlier, I overheard someone say that the brakes on his boat were cut.”

  “I can’t confirm or deny that information,” Detective Cantino said sternly. “Can you give me a rundown of your activities from yesterday at 3:00 pm until now?”

  “Sure I can,” I tried to conceal my nervousness. Was I a suspect simply because Tomaso had been a competitor of mine? “Let’s see, yesterday afternoon, I did a little shopping. I bought some souvenirs for my boyfriend back in New York.”

  “What did you purchase? Do you have the receipts?” Detective Cantino interrupted.

  “I think I have the receipts in my room. I just bought him some little trinkets, like a shot glass, some postcards…I don’t really have a lot of money to spend,” I confessed.

  “Okay, and what did you do after shopping?”

  The mystery man cleared his throat, reminding me of his unexplained presence. I glanced from him to Detective Cantino, waiting for one of them to explain. But still neither man uttered a word. “Okay, after shopping I went to Il Mulino Ristorante and had shrimp parmagiana for dinner.”

  “Did you drink anything?”

  “A glass of Chianti,” I admitted, feeling silly for having indulged in a glass of wine alone. But how could anyone come to Italy and not enjoy a glass of silky smooth red wine?!

  “Then what?”

  “Then I took a taxi back here and watched a little TV. Read a book that I brought with me from home. And went to sleep.”

  “And this morning?” Detective Cantino pressed on.

  “I slept in. Maybe til around 9. Then I grabbed some breakfast from the hotel’s buffet. After that, I walked around the city for a little while until it was time to go to the Sheraton and work on my dress design.” I sighed, hoping the chronology would satisfy the investigator. Then, it struck me that I didn’t have anyone who could corroborate my alibi. I had been spending all my time alone. I wriggled around in my seat, trying not to betray the mounting anxiety I felt inside.

  Detective Cantino nodded slowly. “That sounds about right.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked warily.

  “We’ve already had a look at the hotel’s security camera footage. You were recorded returning early yesterday evening and leaving the hotel late this morning.”

  “Oh, o---kay,” I said, confused. “But I don’t understand what my activities of the past 24 hours have to do with anything anyway. I heard that Tomaso was killed early this morning in the boating accident.”

  “He was,” Detective Cantino confirmed. “But he purchased the speedboat at 3 o’clock yesterday afternoon. Sometime between then and this morning…a suspicious event took place.” The officer parsed his words, but I knew what he really meant. The suspicious event was that someone cut the brakes on Tomaso’s boat.

  “Wait a second, Tomaso bought the boat? Not rented it?” I exclaimed. “Why would he buy a boat in Italy if he was going to return to Spain in a week or two?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Something doesn’t add up,” Detective Cantino said.

  “Although I guess he could afford it,” I said, thinking out loud. “I do remember him mentioning that his parents bought him a boat when he was just 18. So I assume he came from money.”

  “He did,” Detective Cantino affirmed. “That’s another fork in the road we have to take. See if someone was after his money. A life insurance policy, perhaps.”

  The candid manner which Detective Cantino had shifted into set me at ease. Until a scary thought dawned on me. Police officers were clever manipulators who used all kinds of underhanded tactics in order to make their suspects feel comfortable. Befriending the suspect was the first step towards extracting a confession…true or otherwise. Not wanting to fall head first into a carefully laid mouse trap, I chose my next words prudently.

  “Detective Cantino, since you said that my alibi already checked out with the hotel security footage, is it okay if I get on with my day? I’d be glad to help if there’s anything else I can do, but…”

  Detective Cantino eagerly cut in. “There is something else you can do.” He turned to his left, finally acknowledging the stony faced Adonis at his side. “This is Massimo Letrone.”

  Massimo reached a large hand across the table and offered a shake. His hand clamped firmly over mine, ever so slightly pressing into my delicate bones. Using all his strength, the man could have easily crushed every bone in my hand.

  “Massimo is a private investigator. He was hired by the Alegres family to work alongside the police,” Detective Cantino explained as Massimo’s eyes burned into mine. The first fragments of raw attraction pieced together in my body, so I tried to cast them aside, thinking of my loyal Richard and how he was waiting at home for me.

  “Tomaso’s family has already hired an investigator?” I marveled aloud.

  “The Alegres family is one of the most powerful in all of Spain. They’re practically a dynasty. Look them up online and you’ll see what I’m talking about,” Detective Cantino said as Massimo kept staring at me, speaking to me with his eyes but still not verbalizing at all.

  “Okay, and what do I have to do with all this?” I asked skeptically.

  “The Rome Police Department would like you to work with Massimo to help solve the crime,” Detective Cantino in
formed, looking at me expectantly as I wondered if perhaps Massimo didn’t speak English.

  “Help solve the crime?” I squeaked. I was way out of my element now. I had come to Italy to design a dress, not solve a murder! “But why me? I have no experience in investigating murders! How could I possibly help?”

  “We’re fairly certain that you had nothing to do with Tomaso’s death. And we’re also fairly certain that someone in your group did,” Detective Cantino asserted as Massimo nodded, finally displaying a modicum of understanding.

  “You mean Denise or Evelyn?” I guessed.

  “Perhaps. But there could be other suspects as well,” Detective Cantino suggested elusively as I scanned my brain to recall all the people I had met at the Sheraton. I didn’t know who most of them were other than for those in my ill-fated group.

  “Okay, but I still don’t understand how it is that I’m supposed to help,” I argued, feeling flustered.

  “I’ll let Massimo take it from here. I have a lot of work to do. Please don’t let us down, Signorina Macchio. An innocent 25 year old man is dead, and we need to find out why.” With those heart-tugging words, Giancarlo Cantino exited the conference room, leaving me alone with a strange, albeit gorgeous, man whose voice I had yet to hear.

  “Bene. Si parla italiano?” Massimo asked, his voice rich and smooth like the Chianti I had sipped with my dinner last night.

  “Yes, I speak Italian,” I answered in English, too flustered to enunciate in a foreign tongue.

  “Okay, well maybe English is easier for you. Not easier for me. I studied in London a long time ago. But I will try.” Shyness tinged Massimo’s lightly accented English as I exhaled, grateful that he could speak my language.

  “Your English sounds fine to me. I think you’re underestimating yourself,” I said gently as he bowed his head and grinned.

  “Thank you. Okay. Gianna. Will you come with me tomorrow?” He asked hesitantly, like he was trying on a pair of training wheels for his shiny new bicycle.