Cold Tuscan Stone (24 page)

“Commissario,” said Santo, his arm around Claretta, “what we did was unethical, perhaps even immoral, but it was hardly criminal. And surely it doesn't warrant coming in here with guns.” Conti was still frowning, and Rick remained silent. “I am a reputable art dealer, but I suppose my reputation will now be ruined. I—”

“It was my fault, Silvio, it was my idea.”

Santo continued to face Conti while his arms protected the woman. “She had nothing to do with it, it was my decision completely. Polpetto did not need any more business, but having an international client could have helped me, helped us, get the boost we needed.”

“So that's why you wanted to meet me in the cathedral.”

He looked at Rick like he was being offered a life preserver. “Yes, of course, Signor Montoya, you'll understand since you are in the art business, you know it can be vicious. So I didn't want to risk it getting back to Polpetto.” He stroked Claretta's face, almost knocking off her red glasses. “I had some very good pieces I was going to show you tomorrow. I don't suppose that you might still—”

“What kind of pieces?” asked Conti. “Some good forgeries?”

The question appeared to bother Santo more than having a gun aimed at him. “Certainly not! I may have been unethical in trying to take some business from Polpetto, but the art work I sell is authentic and of the highest quality.”

Conti looked at Rick and shook his head sadly.

Two minutes later, on the street outside the office, Conti had finished giving instructions to the policemen before getting back into the cars.

“Commissario,” said Rick, pulling out his cell phone. “This trip to the villa is going to take us some time. I should call my friend to tell her I'm going to be late getting back to the hotel. Since your men were following me, I trust you know about her arrival in Volterra yesterday?” Conti flicked his wrist to indicate that time should not be wasted on a long conversation.

***

Erica spoke in a low voice so that Dario wouldn't hear. “You'll excuse me for saying so, Donatella, but what a strange man he is. Though he does seem to be a very careful driver.”

They were walking slowly between a row of Roman columns and a low stone wall. Other than a small group of Japanese tourists clustered together a few hundred feet away, listening intently to their guide, they were the only visitors to the ruins on this morning. The weather may have had something to do with it; clouds were rolling in from the west, covering the archeological area, as well as the rest of the city, with a gray shroud. Both women wore thick-soled boots, perfect footwear for the combination of dirt and stone that was their path. Long wool coats protected them from the cold, and they both kept their hands in the pockets as they walked. Neither wore a hat. Even on the ski slopes Italian women preferred to let their hair, and hair style, be seen. Everything in their attire was casual yet practical, though the line between casual and chic in Italy was often a fine one.

“He isn't just a driver, Erica, he does a bit of everything for me in the business. When I need some problem resolved, I usually turn to him.”

“The way he's following us he seems to think he's also your bodyguard.”

“I suppose so. Is that yours?” Erica didn't understand the question at first, then fumbled in her purse to pull out a cell phone.

“Yes, Ricky. Did you call the hotel? I didn't answer in the room because I'm not there.” She smiled at Donatella. “Donatella came by and picked me up, so we are catching up on each other's lives while doing some sightseeing. And it was a wonderful excuse not to do my work. What? We're at the amphitheater. You haven't? Why don't you join us?
Benissimo
. Yes, I'm being careful, and her assistant is here watching over us. See you in a few minutes.” She closed the phone and returned it to the purse. “That was Ricky, he—”

“He's done at the museum and is going to join us. Got that.” She took Erica's arm and leaned close to her ear. “I suppose we should talk about him before he gets here.”

Erica laughed softly. “I believe we've done enough of that already, don't you think?”

Donatella did not match the laugh of her friend, and kept her eyes on the path while she formed a reply. “My contact with Ricky was strictly business, Erica, you know that.”

“Thank goodness for that,
cara
.” They walked several steps in silence before Erica spoke again. “Let's leave Ricky for another day. You haven't said much about your business, except it's expanding. It must be going well.”

They turned to walk behind what had been the amphitheater's stage, its outline now formed by broken walls and paving stones. At the far side of the stage a double tier of Corinthian columns was all that was left of the original decorations that ran the length of the structure. It had been a marvelous backdrop for those sitting in the arc of stone seats. Drama, comedy, Roman, Greek, all performed here. The two women made their way between what had once been the walls of the changing rooms to emerge onto the stage itself. High above them rose the north walls of the city.

“Business is going well, though there have been some set-backs, especially one recently, but that is the nature of any business. The problem that caused it was taken care of, and now we should be doing quite well. And I hope to do some business with Ricky. You won't mind that I bring it up with him when he arrives.”

“No, of course not.”

Donatella looked up at the tiers of stone seats above them. “Isn't this a magnificent place, Erica? You Romans build things to last, don't you? One can imagine what it was like to be an actor in those times, the seats filled with the cheering public when you performed well.”

“No different than being an actor now, I suppose. Without a microphone, of course.”

While the two women strolled across the grass of the stage, Dario leaned his large frame against the stone and glanced back over the ruins. The Japanese tourists had moved to an excavation area that was covered with a corrugated plastic roof to protect it from the elements, a cover which could be put to use soon, given the gathering clouds. Two men in suits had come through the gate and were walking slowly toward the amphitheater. The taller one, his hat pulled well down over his head in anticipation of the weather, held up his arms like pointers, talking and gesturing toward parts of the structure as they walked. The other, younger and more stylishly dressed, looked where the first man directed, and listened intently, nodding in appreciation for the history lesson. Dario glanced at Donatella and then looked back at the two men, tracking their movement with a steady eye. They stopped, the one still gesturing as he talked. The two women were now seated a few rows up from the stage where they could see the ruins spread out below them. Something caught Erica's eye.

“There's Ricky. He has someone with him.”

Dario had taken his eyes off the other two men and watched the new arrivals, relaxing somewhat when he recognized Rick. Donatella gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and he leaned back against the stone, returning his attention to the first two men. The taller one with the hat was now using his hands like a movie director to frame the view of the amphitheater while he talked and walked steadily toward the stage.

Rick kissed Erica on both cheeks and stiffly shook hands with Donatella.

“Donatella, Erica, let me introduce Paolo LoGuercio, who I met at the museum. He has just arrived in Volterra and had not visited the amphitheater either, so I invited him along. I didn't think you'd mind.”

The detective bowed his head slightly.

“So you are new to Volterra,” said Donatella while looking at LoGuercio with more than neighborly interest. “What brings you to our lovely city? Tourism, I suppose?”

If Donatella was expecting a smile from LoGuercio, she didn't get one. “No, I was recently transferred here with my work. A nice change from the south, I have to say.”

This perked up Donatella even more. “Ah, so you are here to stay.” She took in his tailored suit and silk tie. “Where do you work?”

“I am with the police, Signora Minotti.”

Donatella stiffened, but quickly regained her composure. Her reaction was not lost on Dario, who began stepping rapidly toward them. While LoGuercio kept his attention on Donatella, Rick surveyed the ruins, assessing the situation. He saw that Conti had pushed his hat back and was now trotting briskly along the path, the other plainclothes policeman at his side. They were almost to the stage. Dario's eyes darted between the two groups of men and began running toward his boss, his eyes narrowing.

“You know my name?”

“Yes, Signora,” answered LoGuercio. “And when you are finished with the tour of the amphitheater, if you would be so kind, we would appreciate your presence in my office. We have some questions. It should not take long.”

Rick turned just in time to see Dario's dark figure lunging toward them at a speed unimaginable for such a large man.

It all happened very fast.

Erica gave a short cry of pain as Dario's thick fingers grabbed her arm and pressed the gun into the small of her back. “You will not move, any of you, or Signora Erica will be shot.” He spoke with the calm of someone who had used a pistol before, and the other four men did not move from where they stood. “Signora Minotti and I will walk from here to the car, with our friend here, and you will remain where you are.” To emphasize his point he twisted the barrel of the gun again, causing Erica to wince.

“Dario,” said Donatella, in a barely audible voice, “let her go. There must be some misunderstanding.” She turned to the others, not hiding the look of fear on her face. “He is very protective, he's been like that since I was a child.”

“Put the gun down, you know you won't be able to get away.” Conti tried unsuccessfully to use a soothing voice. Dario's eyes swept from one policeman to another, but the hand on the gun did not move.

“Dario, don't do this, it isn't worth it.” Donatella again, her face now almost white. She spoke in short gasps.

Dario kept his eyes on the other men as he spit out the words. “Not worth it? Not worth it? You have never seen the inside of an Italian prison, Signora. If you had, you would not say that. Come, we have no time to lose.” But Donatella remained frozen in place, like the stones that ringed the theater.

“This will only make your situation worse, Dario.” Conti kept his eyes locked on the gun in Erica's back as he spoke. “Give me the gun now or your time in prison will be considerably longer. And it will not help Signora Minotti.”

Dario glanced at Donatella and his eyes narrowed even more, if that was possible. Conti was smart, thought Rick; play on Dario's loyalty to his boss. Donatella's next words did not help matters.

“Commissario, I never thought there would be violence. I swear it.”

The look on Erica's face showed that she was finally making sense of the confusion, understanding that this was not about stolen artifacts after all. It was about murder. She stared at her friend in disbelief.

If Dario was disappointed with Donatella's lack of loyalty, he didn't show it. The expression on his face had not changed since he had pulled out his gun, and it did not change now. Nor did his voice, still cold and raspy.

“Then we will leave you out of it,” he answered to Donatella. He cast her a glare full of venom before returning his attention to his hostage. “Come, Signora, you will be my ticket out of here.” Erica cried out again as the barrel jabbed into her back, causing LoGuercio instinctively to move toward her. He caught himself and stopped immediately.

“You will not arrest me,” said Dario. “No one will.” He spit on the ground just short of LoGuercio's polished shoe.

“Don't try to stop him, detective.” Conti's words were quiet but firm.

Dario and Erica had to maneuver through two stone steps and a narrow drainage ditch before reaching the flat grass of the stage. Rick's fists hung stiff and tight as Dario shoved Erica, the gun digging into her body. Conti hurriedly raised his hands toward the gate. Rick realized he was signaling to his men on the street to stand off and let Dario and Erica pass. If they got to the car, anything could happen.

As she was forced down the steps Erica's left shoe slipped on the smooth stone. She screamed and collapsed to the ground, extending her arms to break the fall. Dario stumbled, feet tangled with hers, lurching him backward until his head smacked the flat stone of the step. He shook his head and recovered quickly, raising his gun while pushing himself up with the other elbow, his widened eyes assessing his situation. His reflexes were quick, but not as quick as those of LoGuercio. When Erica and Dario tumbled, the detective dropped to one knee, drew the pistol from his belt, and fired, all one smooth motion. Blood spurted from Dario's neck, a mortal wound. He blinked at the LoGuercio's gun barrel in disbelief before sinking back on the rock, his head turned toward Donatella. She had crumpled to her knees and was sobbing as his blood pooled slowly on the stone.

Oddly, Rick thought of police training. The drop and shoot was one polished act, no doubt practiced until it was expert and natural. LoGuercio might have won honors in shooting competitions. Did they only teach them to shoot to kill and not shoot to wound? He would have to ask Uncle Piero.

Erica pushed slowly to her knees, rubbing her skinned hands. She avoided looking at the crumpled body next to her. She stood, wrapping herself in Rick's arms. “Is he—”

LoGuercio, standing over Dario, answered. “Yes, Signora, he's dead. He could have shot you. Or any of us. If he had reached the car—”

“We all saw what happened, LoGuercio.” Conti's face filled with concern. He turned to Donatella, who locked her hands over her mouth as she stared at the body.

If this were the States, thought Rick, Conti would read Donatella her Miranda rights. But instead the commissario opened his cell phone and called for an ambulance.