Return to Umbria by David Wagner (best book series to read .txt) 📕

already three sheets to the wind. He made a mental note to look up the origin of that phrase, though he suspected he already knew.

“Hi Francine.” He took the chair across from her and looked around the square. “Very picturesque spot you’ve found. Away from the bustle of the tourist crowds.”

“Close your eyes and you’re in Italy,” she said, removing her sunglasses and taking a drink. “The sign in front of this place says bar, but inside everyone’s drinking coffee. What’s that about? But the barman was able to find me some chilled white wine. Very good, too. Can I get you some? My treat.”

“Thank you, I’ll pass.” He stretched out his legs next to the table and rested one boot on top of the other. “Are you holding up all right?”

She picked up the glass. “With a little help from my friend here, I’ll make it.” She took another sip. “Where is the inspector? I was expecting to watch you in action again, in both languages.”

“He’s busy with the case. Where’s Gina? Did you leave her back at the villa?” If Francine did come by herself, Rick thought, I hope she took the bus.

“She wanted to be alone and meditate, so I dropped her off at the cathedral. We each deal with grief in our own way.” She held up the glass to illustrate her point.

“What did you want to tell the inspector, Francine?” He hoped his impatience was not too obvious.

“Well, Rick…” She paused and carefully chose one of the peanuts to put in her mouth. “As much as anything, I wanted to ask him about the investigation. As Rhonda’s best friend, I think the authorities owe it to me to keep me informed. Has he told you what’s going on?”

“Not very much,” Rick lied. “I think there may be some suspects, but remember, it hasn’t been even twenty-four hours since the murder happened. I’m sure the inspector is working as quickly as he can.”

“Suspects? I hope I’m not one of them.” She emitted an alcohol-induced giggle.

“Is there any reason you should be a suspect?” Rick didn’t expect much of an answer.

“Why would I murder my closest friend?” She took another sip from the glass. It was almost empty. “Gina had more of a reason to murder Rhonda, though I don’t think she had it in her to do it.” Her teasing smile was an invitation to Rick and he was forced to oblige.

“What motive would Gina have?”

“The obvious one, of course. She will now inherit a pile of money and won’t have to teach yoga anymore. But knowing her, she likely will stay with it. Calming, and all that.”

The tone annoyed Rick. “What about you, Francine? Are you in the will?”

His question surprised her but she composed herself quickly. “I never thought of that. I suppose I could be thrown a few crumbs, for all I’ve done for her over the years.” She looked at her wineglass, trying to decide whether it was time to pick it up again. “But knowing Rhonda, I doubt it. It will all go to her dear daughter. To assuage her guilt.”

“Guilt?”

“Rick, dear, you may have grown up in a loving family but Rhonda and Gina never got along very well once Gina became a teenager. In most mother-daughter relationships the kid grows out of it, but Gina never did, thanks to Rhonda. She was never cut out to be a mother. Not that I should talk. Even after the diagnosis, and on this trip, she treated her daughter the same. You saw a bit of that on the ride up into town yesterday.”

“Gina seems to be reasonably stable, despite that.”

Francine coughed, as if some of the wine had gone down the wrong pipe. “Gina has always been introverted, which may have helped her overlook her mother’s verbal abuse. Not to be a psychiatrist about this—though I’ve had considerable experience with shrinks—but Gina probably blamed herself for the way her mother was toward her.”

“So both mother and daughter felt guilt for the way the mother treated the daughter?”

“It is strange, isn’t it?” Francine shrugged. “Are you sure you won’t have something, Rick? But of course, you want to get back to your little friend. What’s her name?”

“Betta.”

“Cute name,” said Francine, and drained her glass. “Well, I’m going to have another wine and enjoy the atmosphere. Rhonda would have wanted it that way.”

Rick decided there was nothing more she was going to reveal, and he could think of nothing else to ask. He said goodbye and started across the square. After a signal to the waiter, Francine pulled her shawl from the other chair and draped it over her shoulders.

***

The phone call with the Phoenix police got them nothing. Rick spoke with a detective named Rede who promised to check the fingerprint sent earlier against their records. While Rick was on the line the detective did a quick computer check on Rhonda Van Fleet and found nothing more than a few parking and speeding tickets. Francine Linwood’s only offense in their system was a DWI a few years earlier that had been dismissed by the judge when the arresting officer did not appear for the hearing. Rick thanked him and hung up.

LoGuercio was not impressed with Francine’s story about Gina’s relationship with her mother, assuming such things went on all the time in America. Rick chalked it up to the influence of American movies and TV shows and left the station frustrated. He’d wasted his time talking with Francine, and again on his phone call to the States, when he could have seen the cathedral with Betta. In addition, LoGuercio was becoming more and more frustrated with the lack of leads in the case, and held out little hope the autopsy would reveal anything helpful. Rick was somewhat cheered by a call from Morgante, who didn’t appear to be at all annoyed by Rick canceling the tour of the cathedral, inviting him and Betta to have a glass of wine before dinner. Rick