Death in the Dolomites by David Wagner (people reading books TXT) 📗

“Yes, I was. Friday night, we had dinner.”

“Could you give us more detail?” asked Rick.

She gave a worried glance back at her colleagues at the other table, but they were now deep in another conversation. “He picked me up at my apartment at about eight thirty, and we went to a restaurant near my place where they serve fondue. Then we went to a nightclub. Then he took me home.”

“Did you see anyone else at those two places?”

She looked at Luca as if trying to figure out what was behind his question. “It’s a small town, and I’m from here, so we saw some people I know. That always happens.”

“Did you see him the next day?”

“Yesterday? I had classes all day starting at ten. Saturdays are always busy since people come up just for the weekend. Today too. I didn’t see him on the mountain yesterday or today.”

“You had run into him the day before,” said Rick.

“Yes, that was a coincidence. He was with his sister, so I imagine she told you.”

“And he was supposed to see you last night.”

“That’s right. Dinner again.” She looked at them both, waiting for another question. Rick noticed that the skin around her eyes was paler than her cheeks and nose, the result of wearing snow goggles all day in the sun.

“Did you just meet Signor Taylor? We understand you saw him Thursday night. Was that the first time?”

She took a drink before answering, and not a small one. “No, we met about a year and a half ago.” As the interview progressed her answers had become shorter. “Do you think something has happened to him?” she finally said. “I mean…something bad?”

“We don’t really know,” answered the detective. “Did he seem worried about anything when you last saw him? Did you notice something that could tell us where he might have gone?” She shook her head and remained silent. Luca looked at Rick and back at the woman. “If you think of anything else that may give a clue as to where Signor Taylor might be, please give me a call.” He pushed a card across the table to her. “And if I could have your cell phone number in case I have any other questions?” She unzipped a pocket inside her coat and pulled out a card which was passed to Luca.

After thanking her, the two men walked to the door while buttoning their coats. Rick glanced back to see Gina Cortese walking slowly back to the other table, her eyes on Luca’s card, her ski boots scuffing along the cement floor.

“Either Signora Cortese is a very good actor or she was surprised to hear about Taylor’s disappearance,” said Luca when the door closed behind them. “Did you see the way she batted that guy? Impressive.” He happily placed his new hat on his head and looked at the sky. It was starting to get dark, but there was enough light to see the snow falling. “Should I use my ear flaps?”

“Not cold enough yet, Luca.” Rick did not relish the idea of walking beside him with the flaps down. “Wait until it gets really cold.” They started down the path to the sidewalk. “I had the same impression,” Rick continued, “that she didn’t know about Taylor going missing. News seems to travel fast in this town, but I guess if you spend the day on the mountain you don’t keep up with things.”

“Like the mayor does. Very true.”

The sidewalk was filling up with skiers who had finished their runs for the day, skis over their shoulders. They passed a woman changing into snow boots as she sat in the open back of a large Toyota SUV, while a man snapped their skis onto the roof rack and locked it with a small key. Rick noticed the Milan plates. It seemed to him that every other vehicle in the town that wasn’t local was either from Milan or Verona. He looked back at the policeman and noticed a smile on his face.

“What are you thinking, Luca?”

“I was remembering our meeting with Mayor Grandi and thinking how coincidental it was that the next person we talked to was Gina Cortese.”

“Okay, Luca, explain.”

“Well, my American friend, the sergeant told me that our esteemed mayor, up until recently, was married. The divorce came through a few short months ago.” He pulled his collar up and Rick wondered if the gesture was an attempt to justify bringing down the ear flaps.

“And his former wife is…”

“Exactly. The lovely Signora Cortese.”

“And curiously, she has known Cam Taylor for more than a year.”

“Riccardo, you must promise me that you will listen more carefully to your uncle when he advises you to go into police work.”

Chapter Five

On the steep northern mountainside above Campiglio, four teenage boys on snowboards went from one small clearing in the trees to another. They were dressed in the standard uniform of the shredder: baggy pants, jackets that looked at least two sizes too large, and stretched knit caps that could have come from a charity shop. Each time they stopped, they looked down at the town before deciding on the next opening to continue their descent. There was little agreement over the best route.

“We never should have gotten off the trail. We’ll never find our way back to it now. And it’s starting to get dark.” The boy’s voice held a slight edge of fear. Through the waving trees, far below, they could make out the first few lights that had come on in the town.

“Relax. As long as we keep going down, we get there. So just don’t go up.”

The other two found that funny, laughing as they flipped their boards over with a loud flop and started to cut between the trees again. After twenty minutes and numerous pauses they could see one of the towers of the funivia, rising from the trees like a giant steel insect. Its thick cables were so high above them to be invisible in the