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

“I didn’t see any other door, Commissario. The only way in and out of the office was through the hallway.”

Conti turned to the others. “Detective, take one of the men with you and check out the downstairs while Montoya and I go up to the office. Have the other two stay here on the street.” He looked back at Rick. “Are you sure she will let you in?”

“I have no reason to believe she won’t.”

Conti nodded silently and Rick pressed the button below Polpetto’s name. The door buzzed open almost immediately. They looked at each other and Rick pushed open the door to let Conti enter. They climbed the steps while LoGuercio and the other policeman began to reconnoiter the area behind the stairwell. The office door did not open as quickly as the one from the street, Rick and Conti waited several seconds after their knock before they heard the welcoming buzz and click. When Rick pushed open the door, Claretta was standing behind the desk straightening her skirt. On seeing him she smiled broadly. She had lipstick on, bright red like last night, to match the glasses as well as the earrings.

“Signor Montoya, I did not expect to—” The smile remained, but the gaunt figure of Conti behind Rick brought a questioning look to her face. “You have brought someone with you. I am afraid that Signor Polpetto is in Firenze today, if you need to speak to him…”

“We would like to speak to you, Signora Angelini.” Conti’s somber voice had its effect on the woman. She stiffened and made no movement to sit down.

“And you are?”

Conti took a small leather case from his pocket and opened it for her inspection. “Commissario Conti, Signora. I have some questions to ask you. About your dealings in the arts market, such as they are.”

Fear tightened her face now, and she clasped her hands tightly while looking at Rick for support. Was this simply the usual reaction to a sudden encounter with the police, he wondered, or could she actually be the leader of the forgery gang?

“I don’t understand, Commissario. What has Signor Montoya told you?” She looked again at Rick, now lit with anger. “And why would he be talking to you?”

Conti ignored her questions and continued. “We have reason to believe that this office, and specifically you, Signora, have been involved in some activities that cross the line between legitimate business and illegal activity. It would make your situation much more favorable if you told me about it now. But if not, we can take you to my office.”

“Tell you about what?”

The movement of her head toward the door to Polpetto’s office was almost imperceptible, but Rick spotted it. So, apparently, did Conti; he pushed back his coat and took a small revolver from its holster. Claretta was staring at the gun when the door to Polpetto’s office opened to reveal the man Rick had last seen in the cathedral. And, to Rick’s relief, he was unarmed. Claretta threw her arms around Santo, pushed her cheek against his chest, and began to sob.

“Silvio,” she said with difficulty, “this is a policeman, and he said—”

“I could hear,” Santo answered while looking at Conti. “You can put your gun away, Commissario, we are not common criminals.”

Rick was now more convinced than ever that they in fact were criminals, but he watched Conti shrug and holster the pistol.

“I have men in the hall and outside the building, and they are armed more than I. But you have not told me who you are.”

“This is Signor Santo,” said Rick. “The man I met in the cathedral.”

Conti smiled. “Ah yes, the person who was going to offer some questionable art work to the American dealer.”

Rick watched the reaction of Claretta to Conti’s words. Forget ordering a murder to maintain group discipline, he thought, this woman didn’t appear capable of leading a girl scout troop. If anyone was in charge, it had to be Santo, but even he didn’t act the part.

“You were right, Silvio,” she sobbed, looking up at Santo, “Polpetto found out. We never should have done it.” A thin black streak of teary eye liner crept down her cheek.

Rick saw that Conti was frowning. The policeman is confused, he thought, and so am I. Polpetto must be part of all this, so what could the man have found out? Had she ordered the murder, and now she thinks her boss learned of the crime? Once again he asked himself what the hell was going on.

“Commissario,” said Santo, his arm around Claretta, “what we did was unethical, perhaps even immoral, but it was hardly criminal. And surely it doesn’t warrant coming in here with guns.” Conti was still frowning, and Rick remained silent. “I am a reputable art dealer, but I suppose my reputation will now be ruined. I—”

“It was my fault, Silvio, it was my idea.”

Santo continued to face Conti while his arms protected the woman. “She had nothing to do with it, it was my decision completely. Polpetto did not need any more business, but having an international client could have helped me, helped us, get the boost we needed.”

“So that’s why you wanted to meet me in the cathedral.”

He looked at Rick like he was being offered a life preserver. “Yes, of course, Signor Montoya, you’ll understand since you are in the art business, you know it can be vicious. So I didn’t want to risk it getting back to Polpetto.” He stroked Claretta’s face, almost knocking off her red glasses. “I had some very good pieces I was going to show you tomorrow. I don’t suppose that you might still—”

“What kind of pieces?” asked Conti. “Some good forgeries?”

The question appeared to bother Santo more than having a gun aimed at him. “Certainly not! I may have been unethical in trying to take some business from Polpetto, but the art work I sell is authentic and of the highest quality.”

Conti looked at Rick and