Cold Tuscan Stone by David Wagner (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📗

able to facilitate the exportation better than anyone in Volterra. I hope that doesn’t sound presumptuous, but it is my specialty to get things through customs, in both directions.” He beamed at Claretta, who returned his smile.

“I’m sure it is,” Rick said.

“If you would give me some time to pull together products that could be of interest, I will get back to you with a proposal.”

His manner was very professional, not that Rick had much customs experience by which to judge. It was time to drop the other proposal on Polpetto. Should he raise it with Claretta present? If Santo really was a dud, as Conti hoped, and Landi was not the culprit either, Polpetto and his secretary could be his last chance. But the man didn’t come across as one mixed up in illicit artifacts. Claretta, maybe, but not her boss. Still, Rick had to be thorough.

“In addition to those items I mentioned, Signor Polpetto, if you know of any unique piece of art, and I mean ancient art, we have wealthy clients who could be interested. Price is less of a consideration in these transactions, as you can understand.” His heart wasn’t in it this time, and it probably showed.

Claretta turned the page of her pad and scribbled something. Polpetto stared blankly at Rick for a few seconds and then his face relit.

“Yes, of course. I think I do understand. Let me consider that.”

He picked up the pen and started to put it in his shirt pocket, then placed it back on the desk, and finally opened the drawer and found a spot for it there. Rick decided it was time to take his leave, and he was about to get up from the sofa when Polpetto spoke.

“Do you mind if I ask you something, Signor Montoya?” He looked at his secretary and then back at Rick.

“What is it?”

“Well, I suppose everyone in town is wondering about the death of that man, Canopo. And I read in the paper about an American being the last one he spoke to. Was that you?”

So that was it. Polpetto’s expression combined curiosity and shame, and curiosity was winning. Claretta’s head tipped in Rick’s direction, waiting for his reply. She hadn’t gotten much out of him in the outer office.

“Yes it was.”

“Did the, uh, police question you?”

“Of course, but I couldn’t give them anything that was of any help.”

“I suppose not.” His face again darted to his secretary and then back to Rick. “That afternoon, you didn’t see anyone else?” Polpetto didn’t say it as if he was expecting an answer, and Rick volunteered none. “A terrible business, and on your first day in Volterra. It doesn’t speak well of our city, does it, Signor Montoya?”

“Such things can happen in any city.”

“Yes, I suppose no place is immune to murder.”

Rick frowned. “Murder? I assumed it was suicide.”

“I am no detective, Signor Montoya, but from what I read in the newspapers it made no sense for the man to take his own life. Family, job, and all. Perhaps we all watch too many crime shows on TV, but there must have been something else. My wife agrees,” he added, which settled the issue. Rick noticed that Claretta was scowling. “My wife watches a lot of crime shows on TV,” Polpetto emphasized. His face returned to its usual brightness. The discussion of Canopo was over. “But I am keeping you too long, you have other appointments. I will be in contact regarding your proposal. Proposals, I should say. Let me see you out.”

Polpetto believed that Canopo was murdered. Why would that make sense? It was curious that the man mentioned his wife’s opinion. Rick pictured them at breakfast, he preparing to meet with the American art dealer, and she, remembering the news stories, insisting that he ask about the murder. Polpetto would be too embarrassed to bring up such things on his own. Someone must have pushed him to it. And what about Claretta’s reaction at the mention of Signora Polpetto?

The three got to their feet, and Rick shook hands with Claretta.

“Signor Polpetto will be out of town tomorrow on other business, but we should be able to have something for you very soon.” They were the first words she’d uttered since entering the room.

“Let me help you with your chair,” Rick said.

“No, that’s kind of you. I can put it back.” She rolled the chair to one side, making room for the two men to leave. She caught Polpetto’s eye and shifted her glance toward the street.

Polpetto accompanied Rick out of the curio shop that inhabited his office, and through the bare domain of Claretta. He went the extra mile, or at least the extra meters, and took his guest down to street level where he again shook Rick’s hand with rough affection. He was still standing in the doorway smiling when Rick reached a bend in the street and glanced back, almost bumping into a man who was intently studying a shop window. He excused himself and continued in the direction of the hotel. There were almost two hours until his meeting for coffee with Zerbino, enough time to go back and get some work done on his computer. Some of his normal work, that is.

The stones clicked against his heels, and he thought about the case so far. He’d laid the ground work with the three prime suspects, if that was the correct term for them, and either Landi or Donatella must have sent Santo. One thing he didn’t want to do was force Beppo to add more names to the list, but if Santo was never heard from again, that might be the next step. Beppo himself believed that these three were the most likely to bear fruit, but had hinted that there were others, including a few outside of Volterra. There was enough to see in this town, Rick thought, most of which he hadn’t yet visited. Hell, the laptop could wait, he should do some more sightseeing. And