Return to Umbria David Wagner (english novels for students TXT) 📖

“All right, what happened?”

“I went into a little store to buy postcards, and overheard the clerk addressing a woman there as Signora Aragona. I figured it had to be her.”

Rick’s eyes widened. “What’s she like?”

“Attractive. Takes care of herself. I think she was coming from the beauty parlor when I met her. A bit brash. I could sense she would not be ashamed about having a young amante, even proud of it.”

Rick sighed. “Too bad you couldn’t have talked to her in that store. You could have convinced her to give up a relationship with a young man based purely on physical attraction.”

“That would be a bit hypocritical on my part, wouldn’t it?”

Rick opted to ignore her humor. “What happened next?”

“I followed her.”

Betta described in detail where Tullia had gone, ending with what she had seen on the street in front of the Aragona palazzo. When she finished she was clutching Rick’s hand.

“Rick, this is a violent man. I suspect—no, I’m sure—this is not the first time he’s been this way with his wife. There’s no telling what he’s capable of.”

Both of them thought of Betta’s abusive ex-fiancé, but neither voiced their thoughts. By mutual consent, Carlo was someone they hadn’t spoken of since she’d moved to Rome.

“Fabrizio doesn’t know what he might have gotten himself into,” Rick said. “I wonder what Aragona meant with that last thing he said to her.”

“You mean that he had enough to worry about without needing his wife having an affair?”

“Right. He’s probably having problems at the office, like every other businessman in Italy. I think Piero would have told me if he knew anything unusual about Aragona, but I’d better call him.” He unlocked his hand from hers and pulled out his cell phone. After dialing he waited while it rang.

“Salve, Riccardo. Good news?”

“I’m afraid not, Uncle, but some news none the less.” He briefly recounted what Betta had said about the encounter with the Aragonas. “Besides letting you know what just happened, I wondered if you have anything on Aragona himself. Not necessarily criminal record, but just—”

“I understand. Let me see what I can find out. I suspect the issues for the man are the usual ones, domestic and otherwise, and nothing will turn up, but I’ll check.”

“And I’ll contact Fabrizio again. I’m not sure what I’ll tell him, but I’ll think of something.”

“Please do. I have to go, I’ll get back to you if I find anything on Aragona.”

Rick looked at an ornate clock on the wall. “I haven’t told you. Morgante invited us for a drink, we’re supposed to meet him in about a half hour. He suggested dinner but I told him we had plans. We don’t, but I really just wanted to have you to myself.”

“And I’d like to have you to myself, to find out what’s happening in the case. I’m ready; do you need to change?” She held out the room key.

“Just my shirt. I’ll be right down.”

He got up and walked toward the hallway, noticing that the British woman who had watched him enter was now sitting alone. Her husband must have needed to change his shirt as well. As he walked by, he touched the tip of an imaginary Stetson and slipped into his best Texas accent.

“Howdy ma’am. Mighty fine hotel they have here.”

She was still staring when he reached the stairs.

Chapter Nine

Being the chief of tourism for the city had its perks, and one was access to places that would normally cost a tourist large sums of euros. This included a top floor hotel suite that overlooked the Piazza del Popolo. As Morgante led him and Betta out to the balcony, Rick wondered if the man was given a list of the city’s hotel vacancies every morning, and if so, whether this one was at the top. The balcony was more of a terrace, complete with table and chairs, a pair of chaise lounges, and lemon trees in colorful ceramic pots. Anyone staying here would be tempted to have all their meals out here and never leave the suite. The three stood at the railing and looked at the Palazzo del Popolo at the other end of the square, its gray stone turned a faint yellow by artificial illumination. The area in front of it, unlike when the art students sat and sketched, was empty. A few locals crossed the square, oblivious to the ancient building, more interested in getting home in time for dinner and their favorite TV show.

“The cathedral may be the soul of Orvieto,” Morgante said, “but this square is the heart. Over the centuries, in time of crisis or celebration, the Orvietani have come together here, and they still do. Now the space is also the stage for music and theater, bringing in visitors from around the world. You must return next year during the season; we have already scheduled some wonderful concerts.” He tapped his hands on the railing. “But we can’t get ahead of ourselves. Tell me what you have seen already on your first day here.”

Betta answered. “Since Rick has been helping out with the case, we haven’t seen much more than a quick look at the inside of the cathedral and the Palazzo del Popolo. What would you recommend?”

“There is so much to see, of course, starting with the Duomo. And speaking of that, I still would like to show it to you personally. By chance, the day after tomorrow I will be doing a VIP tour of it for our local chamber of commerce. Next year the city is hosting a tourism convention and we need all our civic leaders to be well versed on our monuments so we can put our best face on Orvieto. If you can, please join us. It will be about nine in the morning.”

Rick and Betta exchanged glances and nods. “We’d love to,” said Rick. “We don’t have to return to Rome until the afternoon.”

“Excellent,” Morgante said. “And you can mix