Death in the Dolomites David Wagner (each kindness read aloud .TXT) 📖

man with thick dark hair and matching goatee approached them. He was dressed in the uniform of Campiglio locals: a light cashmere sweater, elegant slacks, and thick-soled shoes.

“Can I help you find something?” he asked.

Rick turned and smiled. “Salve, Bruno. We met a few days ago when I came in with Flavio to rent skis. Riccardo Montoya.”

Bruno nodded and smiled. “Yes, of course, Riccardo. The skis are serving you well, I trust?”

“They are, thank you. I’m here with a friend who arrived in Campiglio without a hat. Perhaps he can find one here.”

Luca turned around to reveal the suit and tie under his coat. He extended his hand and smiled. “Luca Albani. Piacere.”

Bauer took a moment to react as he reciprocated the policeman’s handshake. “Bruno Bauer, piacere mio. We have some more hats over here if you don’t see what you want on this shelf. Will you, uh, be in Campiglio long?”

“That depends, that depends.” Luca held up a plaid wool hat that to Rick looked suspiciously like something Sherlock Holmes would wear. “I don’t really ski, so perhaps something other than the knit ones would be what I’ll need.”

Again Bruno did not answer immediately, looking at Luca with a blank expression. “Take your time, and if you need any help please let me know. Riccardo, nice to see you. If you’ll excuse me…” He strode off toward the back of the store as Luca looked at himself in a mirror on the wall, the deerstalker hat on his head. He didn’t seem to notice that the store owner had left them.

“I kind of like this one, Riccardo, not just because it will keep my head warm, but the herringbone pattern of the cloth is very handsome. And it’s on sale.”

“I can see why it’s on sale. You’re not really considering buying that, are you Luca?”

“And why not? Look, the back brim will keep the snow off my neck, and if it gets really cold, the flaps come down over my ears.” He demonstrated; untying the ribbons from the top and letting the sides flop down. “Ecco. I’ll take it.”

“Sei pazzo.”

“You won’t call me crazy when your ears are frozen and mine are like bread from the oven. You’ll wish you’d bought one of these instead of that out-of-fashion hat you’re wearing.”

“This is a Borsalino.”

“I rest my case. I’ll pay for this and we’ll be off to see Signor Melograno.”

When they got to the street Rick looked at Luca in his new hat and shook his head in wonder. “Luca, did you even take notice of Bruno Bauer?”

“Of course I did.” He turned to admire himself in the glass of the store window. “He obviously knew who I was, I might just as well have been wearing a sign on my back. And he could not have gotten away from me faster. Very curious.”

“I had the same impression. And after the way Cat spoke about him, I looked him over in a different light than when I was in there with Flavio a few days ago.”

“Your conclusion?”

“That she may be interested in more than his rental skis.”

“I would concur.” In contrast to when he was hatless, Luca now grabbed the place close to the curb, the snow settling softly on his new hat. He pulled out his cell phone and punched some buttons. “Sergeant? Inspector Albani. Any word on where to find Gina Cortese?…Excellent.” He wedged the phone against his ear and made some notes. “Thank you, we’ll do that later this afternoon. We’ve talked with the American woman and now we’re off to interview a certain Signor Umberto Melograno. What can you tell me about him?”

***

They found the office of Agenzia Immobiliare Melograno S.A. just up the hill from the town’s main square. The building was a new construction, but in the chalet-style that dominated Campiglio. Rick surmised the design came under municipal building ordinances like the pueblo revival or territorial style required in Santa Fe. The covered porch allowed window-shoppers to peer at the merchandise of two stores on the ground floor. Next to the door leading to the second floor, a glass case with pictures of apartments and houses invited those interested to visit the real estate office. Luca and Rick shook the snow off their hats and shoulders and accepted the invitation.

They opened the door at the top of the stairwell and found that the office took up the entire second floor. Directly in front of them was a reception area divided into two sections, each with two sofas facing each other and low tables between them. Magazines were fanned in neat arrangements on both tables. From their covers, Rick guessed them to be tourist and ski publications. Behind the seating area, on the far wall, Rick counted three doors, all closed. Along the left side of the room, glass walls enclosed a long wooden table and chairs where four people were meeting, their voices muffled by the glass. The right side of the office had three cubicles, two of which were unoccupied. In the third cubicle, a woman rose from her desk when she noticed the two new arrivals.

“May I help you?”

“We would like to talk with Signor Melograno, please. I am Inspector Albani and this is Signor Montoya.”

The woman’s eyes darted from one to the other before settling on the policeman. “Signor Melograno is in a meeting at the moment.” She motioned toward the meeting room. “Is this about the missing American?”

Luca gave her his best smile. “Yes it is.”

“I’ll tell Signor Melograno you’re here.”

They sat on one of the sofas while she walked to the door of the conference room and tapped on its glass door. The man at the head of the table looked up in annoyance. She opened the door, went to Melograno and whispered in his ear. As she talked he leaned forward to take stock of the two men sitting in the waiting area, giving them a stilted smile and nod. After hearing his reply she closed the door