Cold Tuscan Stone, David Wagner [i read book txt] 📗

“Well, it does seem unlikely, given—”

“His family? That’s what everyone thinks, but who can really know what’s going on in someone’s life, what problems he was facing?”

“I suppose you’re right, Riccardo. But with his job at that shop, and probably a good future working there, it just doesn’t…” His voice trailed off. “Do you think the police have any idea who could have killed him? If it wasn’t suicide, of course.”

“Like you, I only know what has been in the papers the last two days. The police interviewed me just once about the case.”

“Yes, of course. And the stories have not been very helpful. I mean the papers haven’t even speculated on motive. Which they usually do.” He pulled the white handkerchief from his lower pocket and mopped his head. The foulard was for decoration only.

Rick watched Zerbino drain his espresso, the first time he had touched it. A tiny drop of coffee fell from the cup to his shirt, fortunately just missing the silk tie. “Arnolfo, I know you are a busy man, and I don’t want to keep you from your work. It has been a pleasure to see you again.”

Zerbino was staring at Rick, as if he wasn’t hearing the words. Finally he snapped out of his reverie. “Piacere mio, Riccardo.”

They rose from the seats and pulled on their coats. Zerbino lead the way to the door which he held open for Rick. Out on the street they stopped and shook hands. “If you’re going to stay in Volterra for a few more days we must see each other again,” said Zerbino. “Perhaps dinner some evening.”

“That would be a pleasure, Arnolfo,” replied Rick. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“You are most welcome, most welcome.” He was about to walk off when he turned back to Rick. “And you really must come back to the museum some time for a better tour than I gave you the other day.” Before Rick could reply, Zerbino hurried in the direction of his museum.

Strange man, Rick thought. Why the change from barely giving Rick the time of day to wanting the be on a first name basis? Beppo had not come up in their conversation just now, but being a good Italian, Zerbino must have decided that treating Rick well would get back to the Cultural Ministry. At some time he would need a favor in the ministry, so it couldn’t hurt to be nice to the visitor. The more cordial he was to Rick the bigger the favor he could ask. But what about the talk of stealing artifacts and museum security? That was eerie. He watched Zerbino disappear around the corner and remembered that Canopo had done the same, on the same street, two days earlier. A lot had happened in those two days.

Beppo would probably find Rick’s meeting with Zerbino a nice diversion. Rick pulled out his cell phone, but the call went directly to voice mail. Beppo was probably in a meeting; that’s what people in ministries do. He would call back later. Now it was time for lunch, and then back to the hotel to check his email and do some work with his real job; the rent on his Rome apartment would not pay itself. And this time, no touristy diversions. He walked up the street and turned the corner toward the Hotel San Lino. A minute later he was walking through the main piazza, the police station on his right, taking his mind off the translation job awaiting him and bringing it back to the case.

So where was he? It appeared from the mysterious phone calls that something was going to happen, but when would it happen and which of Rick’s contacts would turn out to be the guilty party? The same possibilities turned over in his head. Landi the most likely. Landi had said, after all, that he would be in contact with Rick about some special items of interest. He had expected Landi himself to call, of course. Rick also recalled the face of the girl working at Galleria Landi. Did she show only grief, or was there fear as well?

Polpetto simply seemed too buffo to be a serious contender in the crime department, though his business was murky at best, especially with that secretary involved. Not that Rick understood import export. In addition, he hadn’t even seen the man prior to Santo turning up. But there was something from the visit to Polpetto’s office that stuck in Rick’s mind: the way the man had held that Etruscan fragment in his hand.

That left Donatella, and again Rick could not picture a friend of Erica being involved in something so unsavory as tomb robbing. The sexy leader of a gang of thugs, with her loyal major domo keeping everyone in line? It could make a good movie script, but no more than that. A better plot line would be the museum curator. Rick smiled at that thought and then remembered his latest conversation with Conti. Conti thought there might be a connection with another case he was working on, and Rick suggested looking for a second layer of suspects. Both ideas had one thing in common, that perhaps they should be moving beyond Beppo’s initial list.

Rick looked up to see his destination, whose menu was propped on an easel outside the door. Crime thoughts were wiped from his mind, substituted by visions of warm plates of food. This was Tuscany, with a chill in the air, so it was time for some Tuscan soup. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets and rubbed them together.

***

“I understand your reluctance.” Conti carefully chose his words. “But you will have to agree that Signora Canopo is burdened enough with her grief that she does not need to be bothered.” On hearing this, the bank manager shifted nervously in his chair, looking across the clean surface of the desk at the policeman.

“Yes, the poor woman is going through a terrible time, but you must understand,