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

the counter. “Why, you can feed Lori tomorrow when she comes over.”

That got another giggle. “Let’s just put it all back on the same trays it came in.”

They combined the leftovers on trays and she found room for them in the refrigerator. Rick remembered Cat’s lack of coffee-making skills and began doing the needful in that department. Ten minutes later they were seated on the sofa in the living room, stirring small cups of hot, dark liquid.

“I’d put on some music, Rick, but this place doesn’t have a sound system.”

Rick blew on the coffee and took a small sip. “No need, Cat, we can listen to the snow.”

Thick flakes, just visible from the lights of the room, were rapping against the picture window. It would be a long night for the street crews, and an early start for the men driving the snowcats that groomed the trails. But a wonderful day for the skiers.

“It does make a nice sound, doesn’t it?” She finished her coffee and put her cup and saucer on the table. “But we’re cozy here inside.” She snuggled closer to Rick and moved his arm so that it covered her shoulders.

He stretched to place his cup and saucer next to hers. “It appears that you have put today’s danger out of your mind, Cat. I admire your resilience.”

“I’m not sure how resilient my body is, Rick. Remember when I fell? That leg has been aching since I got back to the apartment.”

“Has it? Perhaps we’d better get you to the clinica tomorrow.”

“No, I don’t think it’s anything serious. But if you just massaged it, that will do the trick.” She got out from under his arm, slipped out of her shoes, and flopped her right leg over his lap. “Right there is where it’s sore.”

Rick dutifully began to knead the designated muscles, but as he did, he could not keep a thought out of his mind.

I’d swear it was the other leg she fell on.

Chapter Twelve

Rick was waved past the policeman on duty and walked to the inspector’s temporary office. The paper sign on the partially open door was slightly askew, so he carefully adjusted it before knocking. “Buon giorno, ispettore.”

Luca, in shirtsleeves, looked up from a stack of papers. “Riccardo, buon giorno. Come sit. I was just trying to organize my thoughts on this terrible crime, and you are the only other person who is aware of all that has happened. So you can be of great assistance. I just spoke with my public prosecutor, and she is no help at all. She wants everything in the case tied up with a nice bow, like a torta from Zia Mitzi’s bakery, before she steps in. And she is pressing me to bake the cake.”

Rick stripped off his coat and put it on a chair with his hat before taking a seat. “I was hoping you’d have it all solved by now.”

“Magari,” answered Luca, the tips of his fingers touching. It was a word which could have various meanings, but Rick took it as “if only.”

He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Luca, why don’t I go over what we have, and you can tell me where I’m wrong? Starting with the suspects. The way I see it there are the big three and then some lesser names. The three first.” He held up his thumb, Italian style, to start the count.

“The mayor. Grandi’s motive is that his wife was fooling around with Taylor well before the divorce was final. And he doesn’t have much of an alibi. He’s anywhere and everywhere on the day of the murder.” The index finger uncurled to join the thumb. “Melograno. Our real estate agent could have had an argument with Taylor about the loan. Perhaps the American was telling him he was inclined to recommend against it. And Melograno’s whereabouts on the morning of the disappearance cannot be confirmed.”

“Though if the barista’s memory is correct, it can be confirmed for the time the body was dropped.”

“That’s true.” Rick’s hand was still in the air, and his middle finger joined the other two digits. “The third main suspect is Muller, since it was in his interest that Melograno not get the loan. As you observed after we talked to the man, if there’s no banker there’s no loan, or at least that’s what Muller could have thought. And as he himself told us, he doesn’t have much of an alibi for the day of the murder.”

“Just like Grandi.” Luca picked up a pencil and twirled it between his fingers.

“Just like the mayor, correct. Which brings us to the next level of suspects, or at least people who could have been involved. The former Signora Grandi, the volatile Gina Cortese, can top that list. Motive: she found out about other girlfriends after he’d told her she was the one and only. But she would need an accomplice, since she has an alibi, and with her size couldn’t do it on her own anyway.”

Luca tapped the table with the pencil. “Which brings up Bauer.”

“Well, she and Bruno appeared to be very friendly the other night in the bar.”

“We must find where Bauer spent the day on Saturday.” He flipped open his notebook and used the pencil to write. “We will go see him this morning.”

“That will work. I need to get new gloves after mine were ruined the other night.”

“Perfect, we can catch two pigeons with one fava bean.” He consulted his notes. “Next on the list is Spadacini, the electrician. He could have been doing the dirty work for Muller along with his electrical jobs.”

“And he is a suspect in the stabbing of Pittini.”

Luca rubbed his eyes. “Ah, yes, Pittini. The poor man is still unconscious. Though after talking more with the men here at the station, I’m more open to the possibility that it was some jilted boyfriend or husband. The man apparently was quite a bounder. Unless you were the intended victim, of course.”

Rick was