Giovanni, My Love Page 9

  “Marissa Stiles.”

  As soon as the tall man fixed his lips to speak, Marco stepped up from behind. He slipped a hand onto Marissa’s right shoulder. The touch calmed her shaking somewhat, but her fear remained just as strong as it had a moment ago.

  “I am Marcello Rossi. Perhaps you may be able to explain the situation to me.”

  “Rossi.” A look of recognition flashed across the police officer’s dark brown eyes. He pulled a small notebook from his top pocket then flipped through a few sheets of paper. “Yes…here it is,” he said. His eyes traced something scribbled on the notepad he was holding. “Mr. Marcello Rossi of Genoa, Italy, and…M. Stiles, hotel management.” The man read a few more notes then glanced up at Marco and Marissa. “I’m going to have to ask you and Ms. Stiles to go down to the precinct station. The detectives are going to have some questions for both of you.”

  “Yes, of course,” Marco nodded. “But, before we leave, please tell us what has happened.”

  “I can only tell you a few details, Mr. Rossi. The rest you’re going to have to get from the lead investigators on this case.”

  “I understand,” Marco replied with a nod.

  “Ms. Katerina Corvino was registered as the second guest to your room, correct?” The officer’s first question, coupled with the veil of dread hanging in his tone, was ominous.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Once Marco answered, the detective made a thoughtful expression, as if he were trying to piece together an appropriate way to say his next sentence. Nevertheless, there were no suitable words to soften the terrible report that followed.

  “Dispatch received a call from the hotel’s front desk about thirty minutes ago. One of the house cleaners found Ms. Corvino unconscious in your room, Mr. Rossi. It appears she may have been strangled. The EMT’s didn’t arrive soon enough to revive her. I’m sorry…she’s gone.”

  Blood rushed to Marissa’s head; her vision went blurry. Ice flooded through her veins and her pulse dropped below the danger line. In the blink of an eye, Marissa’s enchanted evening had morphed into a horrible waking nightmare.

  Chapter Nine

  Truth & Alibis

  A security guard nodded at him as they passed one another on the elevator.

  “Good evening, Mr. Rossi,” the black man said while stepping off and exiting onto the ground floor.

  The villain offered no reply, not even a slight tip of his golden head. His frustration was barely controlled, and he had no time to waste on being cordial with anyone. It had taken the police well over an hour to vacate the hotel premises, which had significantly delayed the next phase of his retribution plan.

  Once on the elevator, the criminal swiped the stolen badge across the digital slot and pushed the button for the appropriate floor. While the metal box made a swift climb toward the employee apartments, he focused on his new objectives. Besides his contact at the hotel, the woman named Stiles was one of very few people who had easy access to the briefcase. It was quite possible she had discovered that the attaché contained the priceless gems. Even more infuriating was the possibility that she had been the emerald-eyed wench’s silent partner from the very start. The idea that the two women might have been working together and conspiring to steal his fortune right in front of his eyes had never occurred to him. If he had recognized the truth sooner, he would never have allowed the sneaky minx out of his sight when she was stashing the merchandise for him. In those few seconds when his attention had been distracted during the phone call to the buyer, Katerina must have found a way to switch the real jewels in the carrier bag with fakes.

  During the short ride upward, a fleeting vision of the dark-haired vixen floated into his mind. If the villain were capable of feeling anything other than blistering rage at this inconvenient situation, he might have taken a brief moment to shed at least one tear for his lost love. A muted inner scream quickly smothered the tender sentiment. His veins flooded with a renewed fury, and his ferocious hatred boiled over. Katerina’s greed had been her death sentence, and he would not spend another valuable minute lingering on her memory.

  His single goal was to retrieve his package. Finding the missing gems was the thief’s only chance for salvaging this failed operation. The rushed sale of the authentic jewels would earn him at least half of a very hefty commission, which had been denied by those idiotic fools who had swindled him. To gain the rest, he would siphon funds from the accounts of his last living accomplice. Afterward, he would track down each of the buyer’s nameless bosses and rob them of their fortunes too. If he should happen to find the forged merchandise along the way, the villain would seize the opportunity to turn a profit from their auction as well. No matter which way each of these scenarios ended, he would emerge as the victor, just as it should always be.

  When the elevator doors opened, the stealthy man stepped onto the residential floor and did a fast survey of the hallway. He was not concerned about being seen on the security cameras; even in plain view, his face would cast little suspicion. Even so, a trained agent always ensured that he was fully aware of every detail within his surroundings. It was Saturday evening and most of the employees who lived on this floor had probably gone out for drinks and dancing. He had seen Stiles and one of the other women leave the apartment hours ago. The third female had also left within the last thirty minutes, so he was not likely to encounter anyone for a while.

  Standing at the door to the apartment, he passed the access card through another automatic lock then turned the knob with slow precision. The front room was pitch black and no voices filtered from anywhere within the muted space ahead. Once the door was closed behind him, the thief flicked on a pocket-sized flashlight and scanned the entire room. With the intention of trying to mask the fact that he had ever entered the residence, the man kept everything in order during his initial search. Nonetheless, after ten minutes of futile searching, his psychotic anger exploded. Inconsolable rage from the loss of the only woman he had every considered loving fueled his spiraling fury. Piece by piece, his powerful fists ripped each of the rooms apart; nothing was spared from the chaos spilling out of his mad hands. In less than five minutes, the rogue agent had left a long path of destruction and shredded clutter across every square inch of the apartment.

  While standing in the center of one of the bedrooms, heaving huge gulps of blistering air in and out of his massive lungs, a clear thought finally crept into the man’s disturbed mind. If the jewels were not here then the dark beauty must have hidden them elsewhere. All he had to do was to calmly wait for her or one of the other pretty females to return to the apartment. One at a time, he would catch them and then slowly interrogate each of the women. Even if he had to patiently crush all of their throats, he would force at least one of them to reveal the location of the priceless gems. He had already done the same with Katerina – sadly, to no success – but the tormented man was certain that this second round of questioning would produce better results.

  The sound of shuffling feet caught his attention. Padded footsteps were approaching the front door. The villain crept closer to the entrance and silently waited to pounce on whoever crossed the threshold. As the door inched open, the shrill creak of the doorframe filled the muted room. Then, without warning, the movement stopped. Heavy steps pounded away from the apartment’s door and disappeared further up the corridor. Pushing his body on sprinting feet, the killer sprang into action and pursued the visitor out of the room. Not wanting to rouse suspicion on the security monitors, he slowed to a fast-paced walk out of the apartment and up the hall. To his aggravation, the instant he reached the elevator, the metals doors slammed shut in his face.

  The rogue resisted the sizzling urge to bang a tight fist against the metallic surface. Frantic fingers rushed through his short locks of hair. Fate was continuing to mock him with its twisted games of irony and botched plans. There was no doubt in his mind that one of the women had returned and had somehow sensed his presence creeping behind the da
rkness. By now, security personnel were probably on their way. He had less than a minute to exit this floor.

  Calmly, he straightened his suit and tie then pushed the up arrow on the elevator panel. While riding the second elevator toward his destination, the man regained control over his pulsing nerves and resumed his casual façade. If questioned regarding his reasons for entering this floor, he would simply tell security that he had been on official business. There was no reason why they would doubt his answer. A grim smile tugged at the villain’s lips; one event had played out to his advantage. The woman who had just escaped a brutal demise did not get a glimpse of his face. His identity remained safe, at least for a short while longer.

  “Are you certain?” Marco asked the question while staring intently at the man seated next to him in the surveillance room.

  The day of his arrival as a guest at La Grande Roi, the Italian Embassy had arranged for his team of data intelligence experts to move their headquarters out of hiding and into one of the local police departments. Nevertheless, most of the details surrounding the operation remain highly confidential, even to the commanders of the NY police force. However, due to the suspicious death of his associate, Katerina Corvino, Marco was given permission by his liaison at the embassy to grant the police detectives assigned to her case limited knowledge of his covert investigation.

  “One hundred percent positive, sir,” the middle-aged man replied with a short nod. He looked up from the computer screen he had been reading his analysis from. “Initial chemical testing is conclusive. The gems you brought from the hotel tonight are the originals.” The analyst adjusted his eyeglasses then reworded his sentence. “Well, they’re the original imitations. This batch never left the hotel. The tracking device is still deactivated.”

  Marco stood and walked over to the two-way mirror. Hidden behind the reflective glass coating, he watched Marissa glance at the doorway to the interview room. She was alone and frightened; panic filled her eyes and covered her expression. He could sense her alarm and truly wished he could ease her fears. Despite the aching urge to comfort his lady, this new revelation only added more intrigue and confusion to a case that was rapidly unraveling before his eyes and slipping from under his control.

  Why had Katerina been murdered? Although her death had been tragic, and caused a hint of sadness to touch his heart, the female agent’s sudden demise also raised Marco’s honed instincts. Very few people had knowledge of their arrival in the US, even less were aware of the exact reasons for their presence in New York. Questioned spilled out of his pacing thoughts. Was it possible that someone had breached their ranks and discovered their operation? Had the unseen killer been searching for the hidden jewels, believing them to be authentic, and stumbled upon a surprised woman instead?

  “So what should we do now?” The assistant looked up at him and awaited further direction.

  “Without Agent Corvino, our original strategy will have to be altered,” Marco said, fatigue hovered in his voice. “I need you to decrypt the IM conversation by tomorrow morning. We also need a full trace on the computer IP addresses, including all user data and locations for the owners of the terminals.” The lead agent turned his attention to a female technician sitting at another monitor on the opposite side of the starched white room. “Upload any forensic evidence the local police crime scene unit pulled from Katerina and my hotel room and send it to the federal lab in Arlington. Tell them we need it analyzed STAT.”

  The woman nodded then began typing furiously on her keyboard. As Marcello started to speak again, his cell buzzed. He cut his words short and scrolled his eyes across the message displayed on his phone. His next announcement was spoken at a high volume, so that all who were present would hear the crucial update.

  “I just received a text confirming that the district judge has granted our search warrant requests. The hotel will be sending their security tapes over no later than midnight tonight. The other information that was requested should be arriving around the same time. I need every second of tape, from the time Katerina and I walked into the lobby until right after her time of death thoroughly reviewed.” Marcello moved toward the exit of the private door then stopped. “On second thought, review at least thirty minutes prior to our arrival.”

  “Is there anything in particular we should check the footage for?” The question came from one of the other female analysts.

  “Sì. Watch Katerina closely…also watch the woman Stiles and any other staff who were at the front desk that morning. There is a key element that we have missed, and we need to know exactly what that puzzle piece is before tomorrow night.”

  The analyst made a quick note on a sheet of paper in front of her then returned to staring at her computer screen.

  “One final reminder.” Marco’s voice became ominously serious. He walked a grave stare across each face in front of him. “Remember that all these tasks should be completed in record time. Our villain is desperate, which means he will strike again…very soon. This time, I need to be several steps ahead of him. Understood?”

  After each of the attentive technicians acknowledged his warning with a firm nod, Marco walked out of the tight quarters. Every footstep closer toward the interview room on the other side of the mirror thundered in his ears. Time slowed to a menacing crawl and his body temperature leaped to a severe degree. A dismal task loomed ahead. How would he tell the woman who stirred up such delicate emotions within his beating heart that she was also a suspect in his criminal investigation? How would Marcello confess to Marissa – the woman who drew such an intensely intimate craving from every muscle in his body – that he had been spying on her, even contemplating using her as a pawn, since before day one?

  The minute after Marissa and Marco introduced themselves to the homicide detectives assigned to investigate Katerina’s death, they were each escorted in opposite directions. According to the clock hanging on the wall of the blank white room Marissa was sitting in, that separation had occurred over forty-five minutes ago.

  Although her eyes raced around the room, as if her mind were in desperate search of an escape route, she had no reason to feel this sudden burst of panic. Other than having a dash of jealousy toward her, Marissa had done nothing wrong to the recently deceased woman.

  Lately, her biggest offense seemed to be allowing her high guard against a certain man drop all too easily. A complete stranger had come out of the shadows and swept her up in a whirlwind fantasy romance, while Marissa had eagerly shoved all her common sense into quiet submission at every given opportunity. A silent hope suddenly trampled her runaway thoughts. Could Marco’s words have been true? Was it possible that he had fallen in love with her at first sight? Or were his whispered sentiments only the false confession of a man whose only intention was to seduce the dazzled woman into a single evening of reckless passion?

  For some reason, whenever Marco’s name floated into her mind, Marissa’s eyes darted toward the mirror on the other side of the room. Until today, Marissa had never actually seen a two-way mirror in person, but she was certain this was the type of glass she caught herself staring into. Who was watching her, and why was it taking this person so long to make an appearance?

  At the exact same moment when the last question passed through her thoughts, the door next to her opened and two men stepped inside. The first man was one of the detectives she had spoken with upon arriving at the precinct. The second face belonged to the handsome man with whom Marissa had shared a fairytale waltz an hour ago. The face was the same, yet subtle differences had transformed the man she was staring at into a peculiar stranger. Marco had abandoned his evening jacket and untucked his dress shirt. Moreover, his expression had altered dramatically since they had parted ways earlier. Gone was the gentle and adoring glances of a man who had fallen under love’s spell. In their place was an appearance of authority and scrutiny. What had caused this intimidating shift in his personality?

  The duo stationed themselves on the opposite side of
the tight space. Both men, including Marco, glared at Marissa accusingly.

  “Ms. Stiles,” the plain-clothes officer addressed her first, “you and I met when you came in earlier. Just to remind you, I’m Detective Nick James and this is my associate,” he motioned his head toward Marco, “whom I assume you already know somewhat…Agent Marcello Rossi.”

  Agent? Her heart pattered fiercely behind her breasts. The most Marissa could manage was a small nod in response.

  “Ms. Stiles,” Marco said with an official tone. As he talked, his eyes burrowed into hers. “Detective James and I have been assigned to investigate a very serious set of crimes. We have some questions we need for you to answer as honestly as possible.”

  The rich accent was familiar but had been drained of all its warmth and kindness. It was as though Marissa were simply another woman Marcello had been introduced to within the past few seconds, not one he had almost confessed undying love for only an hour beforehand.

  “Okay,” was the only word with enough strength to creep past her lips.

  Before Marco began his questioning, it suddenly occurred to Marissa that he had mentioned crimes were committed. As far as she was aware, Katerina’s death – possibly a murder – was the only crime she knew of.

  “Did you have any previous association or involvement with Katerina Corvino before meeting her at La Grand Roi?”

  Marissa shook her head in response.

  “No…Friday was my first time meeting her. The only reason why I even remember her name or her face is because she was standing next to you, Marco.”

  Marissa had become so comfortable with addressing him under casual circumstances that the nickname slipped from her mouth without her consent. Detective James glanced curiously at Marco but said nothing about the slip of tongue. Instead, he proceeded to ask his own question.