Cold Tuscan Stone by David Wagner (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

by Rick, who was studying the picture. “She is an art dealer, and her sales include everything from paintings to sculpture, with the occasional Etruscan piece.”

“She has a gallery?” Rick continued to look at the picture. It was another passport photo, but despite its small size her beauty was obvious, as well as her faint look of annoyance.

“She did for a few years, but now has built up enough of a professional reputation to sell directly to clients from her villa. Those clients have included a few people who we have been watching in connection with other cases. That is why she is on the list.”

“So she could be clean?” Rick hoped his voice did not betray his thoughts. If Donatella Minotti were involved in this, it could prove very awkward indeed for his relationship with Erica.

“All three could be clean, or all could be involved in something illicit. What we hope is that one of them is selling these burial urns, or will at least help you flush out the people who are selling them.” Rick slid Donatella’s photo back across the table and Beppo continued. “The best way for you to approach these people would be in a very low-key way, establishing yourself as a credible buyer. When you think you have that credibility—and exactly when will be your call—you can drop a few hints that you’re also interested in a few pieces of genuine Etruscan art, very unique pieces, that sort of thing.”

“So I shouldn’t ask if they have any Etruscan burial urns in the back?”

Beppo looked at the other two people at the table, whose frowns were evident. “You will have to excuse my friend’s American sense of humor. He can’t help himself.” He turned to Rick. “It doesn’t matter which of these three you contact first, but on arriving in Volterra you must call on the local police chief, Commissario Carlo Conti. He knows you are coming, but we haven’t given him many of the details.”

From his uncle, Rick had heard stories of turf battles between Italy’s many and varied law enforcement entities. “So Commissario Conti is managing to contain his enthusiasm about my presence in Volterra?”

“You could say that. This may be an opportunity to use some of those diplomatic skills you’ve picked up from your father.”

“They’re in the genes, Beppo.”

The meeting went on for another ten minutes. Beppo shared a few more details about the three contacts; Signora Liscio gave Rick a map of the city, pointing out the location of Conti’s office; but Signor Vetri continued to remain silent.

After Rick had turned in his pass and left from the ministry building, he stood for a few moments in front of its stone entrance and looked again at the list. There appeared to be a one-in-three chance that Donatella Minotti was involved in just the kind of illegal activity that so appalled Erica. He folded the paper and slipped it into his jacket pocket where he felt the card Beppo had given him the day before. The name on the card, Arnolfo Zerbino, had not come up once during the briefing. Was it possible, Rick wondered, that the silent Signor Vetri didn’t know of Beppo’s acquaintance with the museum curator? And that Beppo didn’t want the man to know?

***

Unlike Detective LoGuercio, Sergeant DeMarzo was pleased with the prospect of tailing the American. It would allow him to dress as a civilian and get away from the statistical reports that had burdened him the past week. Not to mention being out in the fresh air rather than sitting in his cubicle. And watching some American tourist, how hard could that be? LoGuercio was pleased with DeMarzo’s enthusiasm, and impressed with his questions, which indicated he’d been on such jobs in the past. Also, he knew the city better than a transfer who’d only been in Volterra a few weeks. With that in mind, LoGuercio decided that it might be a good idea to get out and walk around the city himself, before the American arrived. And he needed to make a phone call. He left DeMarzo at the cubicle, picked up his coat in his office, and walked out the main entrance into the piazza.

A moment later LoGuercio stood in the very middle of the square, now starting to fill with locals crossing it between afternoon appointments around the city. He looked up at the stone façade of the building he had just left, its roofline broken by a lone set of pigeons. He wasn’t sure which window was Conti’s office, but had a pretty good idea. There were no faces visible from any of the windows; no doubt everyone was diligently working at their desks, including the commissario. He recalled his brief meeting with Conti and wondered if the man was always such a charmer. Shaking his head and smiling, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. It was answered after the third ring.

“You won’t believe this,” he said into the phone. “I’ve been assigned to work on a case of stolen Etruscan artifacts.”

Chapter Four

Knowing that Signora Liscio at the ministry would never forgive him if he lost his autostrada receipt, Rick pulled it from his pocket and used it to mark the page in Beppo’s book. While pondering the latest factoid he’d learned about the Etruscans, he signaled the waiter to bring il conto. The restaurant, one large rectangular room with a high ceiling, was starting to fill up as the normal lunch hour crowd arrived. Most of the diners were locals; this was not the time of the year when tourists would be passing through Saline di Volterra. Only a few kilometers from Volterra itself, Saline is a small town named for salt mines still in operation a couple millennia after their discovery. He looked at the tiny bowl of salt on the table and wondered if it was the local stuff.

The morning drive up the coast had given Rick more of an appetite than usual.