Return to Umbria by David Wagner (13 ebook reader txt) 📗

visitors, I leave that to our professional guides. And it would be a small way to show my appreciation for the assistance you’re giving to our police.”

Rick held up a hand in protest but Morgante waved it off. “No, I insist. Purtroppo, I cannot be your guide at this moment, I have to get to my pharmacy. But I could do it today at, let’s say, six o’clock? Would that work for you?”

Rick and Betta exchanged nods. “That would be much appreciated,” Rick answered. “Let me give you my cell phone number in case something comes up.”

Rick handed him his card, got one in return, and Morgante bade them goodbye before slipping into the city car and driving off, carefully avoiding the tourists. Rick and Betta watched the Fiat disappear into a side street.

“I can see why he is concerned about the murder, Rick. He’s very passionate about his city.”

Rick was looking at the card, which had the same Orvieto coat of arms as what was on Morgante’s car and the building they’d passed the previous night. “Yes, you’re right. But I noticed you neglected to complain about having to walk all the way back here to get tickets for the chapel.”

“Next time, when I get to know him better.”

They were interrupted by the muffled sound of the Lobo Fight Song, and Rick fumbled in his pocket to get his phone. It was not a number he recognized. “Montoya…Si, Paolo… ah, that’s good…right now?” His face turned sheepish. Betta rolled her eyes, nodding her head. “Of course…we’re in front of the cathedral…fine, see you then.” He snapped the phone closed. “That was Paolo LoGuercio. They just tracked down the other two women to a rental villa north of Orvieto.”

Rick looked at the phone, still in his hand. There was a frown on his face.

“What’s the matter?” Betta asked.

He put the phone away and looked at her. “I may be getting too suspicious.”

“If you’re going to help out with this investigation, being suspicious is a good thing, Rick. What is it?”

“Paolo just called to say that the women rented a villa, and Morgante mentioned tourists in villas. Strange coincidence.”

“He talked about all tourists, no matter where they are staying. You are right, you may be getting too suspicious. Besides, LoGuercio probably told him.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“So the inspector wants you to help him interrogate the two women?”

“Interview is a better term; interrogate sounds like we will be using blunt instruments.”

“You won’t?”

“Sorry to disappoint you. Can you see the sights on your own for a couple hours? I should be back for lunch, but I’ll call you.”

She patted his chest. “I’ll be fine. Go do your civic duty.”

From the distance came the distinctive sound of a police siren, its pulsing different, to the Italian ear, from those of a fire truck or ambulance. A few moments later the blue sedan burst into the square, slowing down immediately to a crawl to work its way through the pedestrians. Rick raised a hand and it drove to the spot where Morgante’s car had been parked. LoGuercio unfolded from the front passenger seat and smiled at Betta before turning to Rick.

“Riccardo, now I really feel guilty for stealing your free time.”

“Betta, this is Inspector Paolo LoGuercio. Paolo, Betta Innocenti.”

LoGuercio bowed gallantly as he took her hand in both his. “It is indeed a pleasure, Betta.” He inclined his head toward Rick and spoke in a stage whisper. “Riccardo, explain to me how such a woman as this would waste her time with some bumbling foreigner.”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Betta laughed. “You two had better be on your way. The first few hours are always the most critical in a criminal investigation.” Tourists who had been gazing at the church now watched the three people standing next to the idling police car. “I think these people are hoping you’re about to push Rick down on the hood and put handcuffs on him.”

“Ah, and she is also familiar with police work.”

“She works for the art cops, Paolo. You have to agree that they do police work.”

The inspector’s tired eyes widened. “The art police. Well, we certainly know about them, don’t we Riccardo? But she is correct, we should be off.” He extended his hand. “Betta, it has been my great pleasure. We shall see each other soon, I trust. Unfortunately it will include Riccardo’s company, but there is nothing I can do about that.”

A few minutes later the car was flying down road to the valley, lights flashing. Each time a car appeared in its lane, the uniformed driver would send out a short yowl from the siren and roar past it. Rick and LoGuercio sat in the backseat, holding tightly to the handles above the doors.

The policeman fumbled with the cigarette pack in his pocket but left it there. “She’s certainly different from Erica.”

“Your powers of observation have not diminished, Paolo.”

Chapter Five

Villa Felicità was the ironic name of the renovated stone farmhouse Rhonda Van Fleet had rented for herself, her daughter, Gina, and her friend Francine. Its foundation was dug into a sloping hill so that windows on both the upper floor and one side of the lower level looked out over the valley below. Wood and glass doors on the lower floor opened to a patio covered by a pergola woven with grape vines, their wide leaves shading the brick pavement from the afternoon sun. Beyond the patio stretched a rectangular pool, just big enough to do laps if the renters decided to abandon temporarily the bel far niente to engage in a bit of physical activity. It was a difficult choice, given the comfortable chairs on the patio and the view they afforded of the Umbrian countryside.

Though Rick and Inspector LoGuercio didn’t realize it, the villa was visible, high in the distance, from several bends in the road. The driver had brought the speed down to what would be normal for an Italian driver on a deserted country road, making it easier