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

“And?”

“She was shocked, as you would expect she would be, and had no idea who would want to harm her husband. She said he had gone out, but he didn’t tell her where.”

“No doubt working on the campaign. Stuffing envelopes, perhaps.”

Rick’s attempt at humor fell flat. Perhaps it didn’t make it through translation. “I’ll ask the mayor if he was doing some campaign work, but somehow I doubt it at that hour. I have some men checking the nightspots to see if he was seen anywhere. There aren’t that many of them in a town this size. If he was in a public place with a woman, we’ll likely find out soon.”

“We can rule out one woman, at least.”

A puzzled look showed on the policeman’s face, but then he got it. “Tell me how it went with Signora Taylor. As well as could be expected?”

Rick briefly described his conversation with Cat at the apartment, leaving out that he’d told her something of his own background to help get her mind off the death.

“So, my American friend, from what you said I sense that Signora Taylor is not suffering in her grief.”

Rick shrugged. “Not yet, Luca, but it all may not have sunk in yet.”

“What was her reaction to the excitement of last night?”

“I didn’t bring it up, and she didn’t either. Her apartment must be soundproof if she didn’t hear all the sirens.”

Luca gave that some thought. “And you say you had a brief encounter with her neighbor, Signor Lotti?”

“There wasn’t much to it. She was annoyed and snapped at him, and he took it. He was a bit shocked, first at seeing me and then by her reaction. I found it strange that he thought I was a policeman.”

Luca grinned. “Well, we never actually explained your presence when we visited him yesterday. You should take it as a compliment, of course.” He stood up and reached for his jacket. “I need a good coffee, the stuff from the machine here is terrible.”

“I just had one with Cat, but I’ll go with you. This room is starting to close in on me.”

“And you’ve only been sitting here for five minutes.”

They left the room, nodded to the sergeant, and walked outside. The sunlight that had started to peek through the clouds was now out in full. It would be a good morning on the trails. A parking lot spread out in front of the entrance to the police station was surrounded by hotels and businesses. Luca pointed out a bar at the opposite end and they began to walk between the parked cars to reach it. Ahead of them four young men were getting out of a muddy SUV, slipping on their coats and stretching their limbs. One checked the skis on the roof while the others looked around the square and up at the mountains surrounding Campiglio. Once the vehicle was secured, they began walking toward a hotel at the far end of the square, talking loudly. Rick watched them and suddenly grabbed Luca’s coat.

“Riccardo, what—”

“That kid, Luca, we’ve got to get him.”

Rick began running toward the group, followed by a bewildered Luca. The lot was full, and they darted between cars, sometimes having to double-back where there was no space. Rick kept his eye on one of the group, who he estimated was in his early twenties. When Rick was about twenty meters from him, the boy looked around and saw the two men running toward him. A look of panic came over his face and he started to run while his three friends stopped and stared. Rick and Luca brushed past the three and continued the pursuit.

“Stop, police!” yelled Luca as he gasped the thin air.

The boy tripped and fell against the hood of a car, his hat flying to the ground. Rick was on him immediately, forcing the boy’s chest and face against the front of the car like he’d seen cops in Albuquerque do on various occasions.

“I didn’t do anything.” The boy’s words were muffled by the metal of the hood.

Luca finally reached the car, breathing heavily. “What… is going on…Riccardo?”

Rick kept one hand against the boy’s back and pointed to the ground with the other. “There, Luca, look there.”

The policeman reached down and picked up the cap. It was dark blue, and the gold letters ND were intertwined on the front. On the back, also in gold, was the word IRISH.

***

The boy sat at one end of the long table, a tape recorder directly in front of him. A uniformed policeman with a pad and pen sat to his left, Luca to his right. Rick leaned against a side wall, wishing there were windows in the room.

“Go over it again, Lorenzo, to be sure I understand.”

The boy looked up at Rick, as if he could somehow avoid repeating the story. Rick shrugged.

“We were just coming to the edge of town. We’d left Verona before dawn, stopping only to have a cappuccino and a roll at a bar in some small town on the road. We knew it would be a while before we could check into the hotel, and we, well, after the coffee, we needed to…”

“You had to take a leak,” said Luca. “I don’t need the specifics. Go on.”

The boy took a sip from the cup in front of him. “We pulled off the road into a clearing. No trees, but covered with snow, of course. We could see the trails off in the distance where people were coming down off the mountain, and the chairlift to take them back up. After we, uh—”

“Yes, took care of your bodily needs. Go on.”

“I saw something blue sticking out of the snow, walked over and pulled it out. It was mostly covered, but after I shook off the snow I saw it was a nice cap. It wasn’t like it was anything that valuable. If it had been, I would have turned it in when