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

silently raised his hand, which apparently was enough. “Very well, Zio, I’ll see you this evening.” He nodded at Rick and Luca and left the room.

“We won’t take much of your time, Signor Peruzzi.”

The man settled back into the chair, legs propped on a leather ottoman and covered with a thick wool blanket. His gaunt neck stuck out from a gray turtleneck sweater which may have fit him once but now looked at least a size too large. He had not shaved, or been shaved, in a few days, and perhaps realizing this, he rubbed the stubble with his hand.

“My time is yours, Inspector. As you might surmise, I don’t get many visitors, so I may be that rare person who actually enjoys being interrogated by the police.”

“We’re not here for an interrogation, Signor Peruzzi, we just have a few questions.”

“Call it whatever you’d like, but don’t feel rushed. I am at your disposal.”

“You live here alone?”

“No, Massimo is here with me. My sister, his mother, used to come in to see to my needs every day, but when she died three years ago, he moved in.”

“A very devoted nephew.”

The old man stared at Rick, a sad smile on his face. “Yes, perhaps you could say that. The fact is, Signor Montoya, my nephew is waiting for me to die. Massimo is already very comfortably set, since he owns a very successful grocery store here in Folgarida, made successful by his late father and my sister. They worked tirelessly to make it what it is, but Massimo has found it easier to hire a manager. Fortunately he hired a very good one. When I die he will inherit an even larger sum.” His eyes moved from Luca to Rick and back. “You will excuse my frankness, gentlemen. I have no reason, at my age, to speak otherwise.”

“Your estate can go to someone else.”

“I have no other family, Inspector. And I owe it to my sister to pass it to her son. She was a lovely woman. She and my brother-in-law would be disappointed that their only child has little interest in anything except…” The voice trailed off. “But he’s still young, perhaps someday he’ll settle down. I doubt if I will live long enough to witness it, but it could happen.”

“He will inherit the property in Campiglio.”

“Yes, Inspector, or the money from its sale. Which is why you are here, I am sure, to ask about that land. You must forgive me for boring you with my family problems. Please don’t think ill of Massimo. He is not a bad person.”

“Is the sale imminent?” asked Rick.

Peruzzi thought before answering. “The two bidders—I assume you know who they are—would certainly like the sale to happen soon, no question about that. And so would my nephew.” He rubbed the back of one hand, like it had a rash. “I must confess that I am in no hurry. What money I have made over the years has been in these transactions, buying and selling land. Much of the buying was done many years ago, before the town changed, before the skiers mounted their invasion of the Dolomites. Some people say I was smart, others that I was lucky. The truth is somewhere in between, but one thing is certain, I loved all of it. I don’t mean the money, though I can’t complain about that part, I’m talking about taking a risk and seeing it bear fruit. There is nothing like it. Nothing. Yes, there were some bad bets, some losses. They only made the successes that much sweeter.” He had been hunched forward as he talked, and now he settled back into the chair and took a long breath. “You see, gentlemen, this is the last transaction, the final sale. I know it has to end, like my life will have to end. But I want to savor it a little longer.”

The three men sat in silence until Luca spoke. “When did you last have contact with the two potential buyers?”

“Let me see. With Muller, it’s been at least a week. He called to ask when I was going to make a decision. He was pleasant about it, as he always is. Soon, I told him.” He made a sound which was somewhere between a cough and a laugh, and followed it with a sip from the glass. “Melograno came here five days ago.”

Luca’s head jerked up from his notebook. “Friday? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, Inspector. As I told you, I don’t get many visitors.”

“What time was it?”

“In the morning, I don’t remember exactly. Ten, eleven.”

“How did the meeting go?”

A twisted smile came over Peruzzi’s face. “Well, I’ve dealt with Umberto many times, from when he first got into real estate until now. His style of doing business is not one I share, but he would probably tell you that times have changed. Perhaps he’s right. But you asked how our little meeting went. He was more insistent than ever, and the fact that he came here to my home, rather than calling, surprised me somewhat. But he got the same answer as Muller.”

“We think that the murder took place on your plot of land.”

The old man stared at Luca and nodded his head slowly. “That saddens me. I hope it is just coincidence, given its secluded location, off the main road. I know it’s been used for unsavory activities over the years, but never murder. Very sad.”

Rick shifted in the wooden chair. “Does your nephew have any preference as to who should buy the land?”

Peruzzi’s eyes bore into Rick, and then softened. “The decision is mine, Signor Montoya, not my nephew’s.”

“Have you made that decision?”

The man did not reply, but the silence, combined with the tired look on his face, were answer enough.

Rick felt a nudge. “Riccardo, we should be on our way back to Campiglio, and let our host get back to his reading.”

“I am in no rush to see you leave, Inspector, but I’m sure the investigation calls.”

“What are you