To Die in Tuscany David Wagner (inspirational books for women txt) 📖

could be the way factory owners normally treat their employees in Spain.” He felt a pull on his arm. “Or perhaps not. It was interesting that she still is leaning toward keeping Lucho on the payroll.”

“That’s what she says. Who knows what she really intends to do.” They began the walk down the hill to their hotel. Except for the last fifty meters, it would be all descent. “Have you ever wondered why Pilar came here at all?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she said she was estranged from her father and that she detests the second Signora Somonte. Why not just let the widow and Garcia take care of what needs to be done to bring the body back to Spain?”

“Come now, Betta. It’s her father, and the man was murdered. She wants to find out what happened. You’ll recall that it was Lucho who called her to give her the news, and I imagine he asked her to come.”

“Yes, you’re right. I’m trying to read too much into it. That slap has me inventing all kinds of scenarios, but that’s the way we Italians think. There has to be something sinister behind everything, especially if it’s as dramatic as what happened in the cathedral.”

“One person’s drama could be another’s normal behavior.”

“In that case, Alfredo had better behave himself.”

Rick squinted toward the dimly lit square that ran along the side of the palace, where the obelisk planted in its center cast pointed shadows over the cobblestones. At the far end, a figure hurried into one of the narrow side streets and disappeared.

“Was that who I think it was?”

Betta turned and looked. “I don’t see anyone. Who was it?”

“I’m pretty sure it was Loretta Tucci. I don’t remember her mentioning at lunch that she was coming to Urbino today.”

Betta inclined her head toward the banner hanging from the wall of the museum. “I’m sure she got an invitation to the opening tomorrow. She must have decided to come up a day early.”

They went from the lights of the cathedral facade to the relative darkness of the street leading down the hill. A well-fed cat scurried from one doorway to another, looking for a mouse or some feline companionship, not noticing the two humans walking behind. At the bottom of the hill stragglers stood inside the bar next to the theater arguing the merits of the film they had seen.

“How about a coffee or mineral water?” Rick asked.

“I could use it.”

Rick had his hand on the handle of the bar’s door when they heard the faint sound of Betta’s phone. She pulled it from her purse and looked at the number. “Why would he be calling now? He should be having a nightcap with Pilar.”

“That’s one way to describe it.”

She pushed a button and put the phone to her ear. “Yes, Alfredo… Really?… Of course.” She made a writing gesture to Rick, who pulled out a pad and pen from his pocket. “Go ahead— Rick will write it down.” She repeated an address that Rick scribbled on the pad. “We’ll find it. Ciao.” The phone went back in her purse but then quickly came back out. “They may have found the drawing. What was that address? I’ll put it in my GPS.”

“Go ahead, but I’ve still got the map they gave me at the hotel.”

“Between the two we should find it. Somewhere near the botanical gardens, he said.”

The address turned out to be directly behind them. Red and blue lights from two parked police vehicles bounced between the stone facades of the buildings and the tall wall that they faced. A shabbily dressed man with a five-day beard sat on the ground next to two trash cans, his back against the wall. A uniformed policeman stood above him writing on a note pad. Two other cops walked around shining flashlights on the ground. Near one of the police vehicles, a Fiat SUV, DiMaio nodded as he listened to a man dressed in a bath robe. Pilar, looking elegant, leaned against the second police car, her hands in the pockets of her coat. DiMaio noticed Rick and Betta approaching, said something to the man, and walked to them.

“What happened?” Betta asked.

DiMaio pointed with his chin at the robed man. “He lives in that building and heard the sound of someone going through the garbage. That is apparently something that annoys him, both for the noise and because people get into the trash and leave what they don’t want all over the street in front of his house. He decided it was his civic duty to call the police. When my man arrived at the scene, he found that among the items that the guy had extracted from one of the cans was a leather case, which he heard was missing when I briefed everyone on the investigation.”

“It has the drawing?”

“I haven’t looked yet. It’s in an evidence bag. Since you’re the art cop, I was waiting for you to do the honors.”

“Are we sure it’s the right case?” Rick asked.

“Pilar said it is.” He pointed a thumb at the SUV. “Let’s take a look.”

They walked to the back of the vehicle and DiMaio swung open the rear hatch. He reached in, took a pair of plastic gloves from a box, and handed them to Betta. While she slipped them on, he picked up a large plastic bag sealed at the top. The case looked like something used by an artist or an architect to carry his work, with a zipper around three sides and handles. A design had been tooled into the leather.

“That’s the family seal.” The words were spoken by Pilar, who had walked up behind them. “He hired a genealogy specialist to find it, but I always thought the whole thing was a scam. My ancestors were sheepherders and laborers, not the kind of people who spent their time or money creating a family crest. My father was trying to rewrite the family history, and the guy who found the seal was