Return to Umbria, David Wagner [ink book reader .TXT] 📗

tell her about the death of Signora Van Fleet. They reminisced about the old times, and she showed him the same photo album I saw. He was very interested in seeing the pictures, she said.”

“Did he ask her about your meeting with her early in the day?”

“She made the mistake of bringing it up herself, so she doesn’t know if he knew already. But he asked her about it.”

“Somehow, knowing Crivelli as we do, I doubt if his visit to the woman was motivated by benevolence.”

“Nor do I, but like you I have trouble picturing him as a murderer. But the fingerprint will tell the tale. Your other prime suspect, I assume, is Bianca Cappello?”

The descent from Orvieto’s hill had ended. The flat, if curved roadway allowed the driver to accelerate. There was little traffic to slow them down.

“Yes. Bianca was in Milan at the time, taking care of a sick grandmother, she claims. If I recall, the Red Brigades had women as well as men among their ranks. We certainly can’t rule her out.”

“But her motive for murdering the American?”

Rick nodded. “True, nothing obvious comes to mind. The only possibility I can think of is that Rhonda knew about Bianca Cappello’s Red Brigades past, though not the bank robbery, and Cappello thought it might now somehow come out. At this point in her life she’s an upstanding citizen, and would be ruined if it was revealed she had that on her record. As serious for her, on a personal level, is that her friend Morgante, given his position in the city, would almost surely break off their relationship.”

“The same could be said about Crivelli if he’s the brigatista. If Rhonda knew about an involvement with the Red Brigades, he couldn’t let that become public either.”

Rick shook his head. “I don’t think Crivelli would have revealed that kind of information about himself to a student back then, unless they were in a more intimate relationship than he lets on. But Cappello and Rhonda were contemporaries, and good friends. Bianca could have opened up to her over a bottle of wine at that time, wanting to talk about it with someone who would be sympathetic, but afraid to talk to another Italian. My guess is that Rhonda wasn’t exactly politically conservative herself in those days.

“True.”

They were just passing the spot at the side of the pavement where the body had been found. The crime tape had been taken down, and a woman stood waiting at the bus stop, checking the screen of her cell phone. If she was aware of what had happened there only forty-eight hours earlier, she didn’t show it. LoGuercio looked at the woman and checked his watch.

“Crivelli will be coming to my office in about an hour and a half. He’s part of that cathedral visit, along with everyone else of importance in Orvieto, so I couldn’t get him in earlier. I told the sergeant, if I’m not back, to ask him to wait until I return, which I’m certain won’t make him happy. Cappello is scheduled for about a half hour after that, since I didn’t want them chatting in the waiting area and comparing notes, so I hope this doesn’t take too much time and gum up the works. If we are delayed too much I’ll call the station and have them put Crivelli in another room. Damn this robbery.”

The car slowed and pulled into the dirt road leading up the hill to the villa. In less than a minute it skidded to a stop next to the Mercedes. They got out and walked to the doorway as it was being opened by Francine.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” she said. “Please come in.”

LoGuercio voiced a “good morning,” in English and stepped through the doorway, followed by Rick. In the living room Gina sat on the couch clutching a coffee mug. The two women were each dressed, as the other morning, in a kind of exercise outfit. Neither had put on makeup, and their hair looked as if it had not been touched since leaving the pillow.

“Tell them, Riccardo, that I’m just going to make a general inspection of the crime scene, but a team is on its way to do a more thorough check of the building for fingerprints and other evidence. Find out what they noticed was missing, and then we can look at Signora Van Fleet’s room.”

Rick interpreted while Francine took a seat next to Gina and grasped the younger woman’s free hand.

“What is missing from here,” Francine answered, “is a small vase that sat in that niche.” She pointed toward the wall. “We had all admired it when we arrived at the villa, especially Rhonda since she is of course into ceramics. From the way it was displayed, with a light over it, we thought it had some value. Apparently the thief agreed.”

“Anything else?”

She pointed to another part of the room. “The books on that shelf had been disturbed, but since we didn’t look at them at all since we got here, we don’t know if any are missing. Burglars don’t usually steal books, I would think.”

LoGuercio had been writing in his notebook. “I would not be surprised, Riccardo, if taking the vase and shuffling the books was a diversion to make it appear as a real burglary. There is no doubt in my mind, and I trust in yours, that this has to be related to the murder. So where is the woman’s bedroom?”

When Rick asked, Gina spoke for the first time and pointed to a door at the far side of the living room. Their bedrooms were on the next level, a few steps up, but Rhonda had taken the one on the ground floor. “Her room is the other side of the villa from ours, which is why we didn’t hear anything.”

Francine seemed to be about to say something, but then just nodded in agreement. Rick and LoGuercio walked to the door of the bedroom and pushed it