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

the window. There was just enough light from inside to see that the snow had stopped falling. That, he thought, was at least some good news for Luca.

Flavio waved to the Smiths, who were leaving their table at the other side of the room and walking toward the door of the dining room. That left about four other tables still occupied, including the one where Rick and Flavio sat. The wait staff moved around the room, clearing the tables and setting them for breakfast. “Here’s Luca.”

The policeman spoke with one of the waitresses who nodded and hurried into the kitchen. “They kept a meal for me,” he said as he slipped into his seat. “God knows I can use it.” Rick filled the new arrival’s glass with the Bardolino and waited for him to continue. After a long swig of the wine he did. “It’s definitely Signor Taylor, not that I had any doubt. His ski pass, with name and photograph, was hanging around his neck.” Luca noticed the bread basket, pulled out a packet of bread sticks, and tore open the top. “After checking the site, it is clear that he was dropped from the gondola, so they are bringing the body down now. They’ll put it in a local mortuary, where the autopsy can be performed tomorrow.” The change in Luca was noticeable, from relaxed and smiling to businesslike. He snapped off a piece of bread stick with his teeth and thanked the waitress when a plate was put in front of him.

“I told Flavio about all our meetings today, Luca. I didn’t think it mattered, but now that the case is homicide…”

“No, no, Riccardo, it’s perfectly all right. Flavio may be our secret weapon in the investigation, since he knows so many people in this town.” Luca’s familiar grin returned. “This vitello is excellent. And once again Flavio has chosen an excellent wine.”

Rick was not thinking of the meal. “Luca, she’ll have to identify the body, won’t she?”

“Yes, Riccardo,” he answered quietly, “first thing in the morning. I don’t know how long it will take to bring the body down, and there are photographs that must be taken before they do.”

Rick looked at the wine in his half-filled glass, swirling it slowly. He looked up at the other two men. “It’s time to start talking about suspects, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure each of us, in his thoughts, already has,” said Luca as he pushed his empty plate to one side, took his notebook from his pocket, and laid it in front of him, unopened. “We must begin by reconstructing the crime. While the formal autopsy will have to confirm it, it appears that he was killed by a blow to the head, probably sometime yesterday morning. And of course somewhere other than where he was found. So he was already dead when the body, inside a canvas sack, was dropped from the gondola. My local colleagues tell me that there was only one time when the body could have been dropped, and that was on the last run up the mountain. The work crew comes down on that run, passing the empty gondola going up. Apparently on this occasion it wasn’t completely empty.”

“So the murderer would have been familiar with the schedule of the gondola,” said Rick. “Which would seem to rule out Cat Taylor. Not to mention that she would have trouble hauling a dead body onto the gondola.”

“Assuming,” said Flavio,” that there was only one person involved.”

“You’re both correct,” said Luca. “But getting back to the reconstruction…the drop was either yesterday evening or Saturday evening, the day he disappeared. The local police who went up there with me were sure it was Saturday, given the amount of snow covering the sack. The snow-cover also rules out this evening, and the discovery by the boys was too close to today’s last gondola run, anyway. So we’ll assume Saturday. Unfortunately that means thousands of skiers got on that gondola since the drop, all but obliterating any trace of evidence from when the body was taken up.”

They thought about that for a moment before Flavio spoke. “Whoever dumped the body had to ski down once he reached the top. So he had skis as well as the body on board. And boots.”

“I am not a skier,” said Luca,” but that seems like a lot to bring along when you’re dealing with a body.”

“Snowshoes?”

“No, Rick,” said Flavio, shaking his head.“It would have taken forever to get back to town. Had to be skis. I could make that run almost blindfolded, but so could just about anyone who grew up in Campiglio.”

“Where would the trail end, Flavio?”

“Almost anyplace on the north and east sides of town, Luca. If you know the mountain you can come out almost anywhere, including at your own back door if you live near a trail.” He tapped a finger on the window. “One ends about a hundred meters from here.” The eyes of Rick and Luca moved toward the glass, but beyond the few flakes visible from the room’s light, it was only blackness.

Rick looked at his empty wineglass and decided not to fill it. He was already starting to fade after what he’d consumed so far. It had been a long day and with another visit to Cat to come, it wasn’t over. “So we know from the crime scene that the murder took place sometime Saturday between the early morning when Cam left the apartment and when his body was dropped in the late afternoon. That time frame will be important for establishing alibis.” Luca and Flavio nodded in agreement. “What about motive?”

“Not robbery,” said Luca before taking a sip from his glass, “unless they wanted his expensive Kolmartz skis and poles, which I suppose is possible. He didn’t have his boots on, but they would have made the sack much heavier. He also didn’t have his hat. Everything else was on the body including his wallet with about a hundred euros inside,