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

There was no answer. A lone glass fixture lit a steep stairway to the second floor.

“Fabrizio. It’s Riccardo.”

He thought he heard some movement coming from the second floor, but he couldn’t be sure. As he started up the steps he wondered if he was making a mistake. Fabrizio could be in the midst of an encounter, if that was the word, with Tullia. But the other possibility was that something was wrong, and that thought kept him climbing. The small landing at the top of the stairs had two doors, one straight ahead and the second just to the right. The one directly ahead of him was partly open, and Rick could see what appeared to be a living area. He pulled the door open the rest of the way and stood in the doorway. The room was furnished with the kind of cheap but functional furniture that one would expect in a rental: a sofa with side tables, a wooden shelf on which sat only a dozen books, and a small desk and chair. On the desk a flat laptop computer sat open, its screen dimly lit. A print of the Italian countryside was the only attempt to decorate the walls. Squeezed against the back wall, near a doorway leading to a tiny kitchen, was a table with two chairs.

Rick was about to walk to the computer when the door behind him crashed against his back, knocking him to the ground. He splayed out his arms to break the fall and slid a few feet on the tile floor, managing to keep his chin from scraping. Behind him he heard the door slam shut and the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs. Angered, he got to his feet, threw open the door, and started down after the intruder, but lost his footing on the third step. Only by grabbing the wood railing did he keep from taking a tumble. By the time he recovered and got outside there was no one to be seen on the dark street.

He rubbed his palms together, decided they were no worse for the wear after the encounter with Fabrizio’s floor, and went back inside and up the stairs. The door on the right was now open, revealing a room with one low bed pushed against the wall, and a tall armoire near the window. The bed was made, not what Rick would have expected given Fabrizio’s age, but he guessed it was the influence of Tullia Aragona. Off the bedroom was a small bathroom with shower and sink, equally neat. He went back into the living/dining room and saw that the screen of the computer had timed out and was now dark. He also noticed a yellow pad next to it, scribbled with notes. So Fabrizio also used the old-fashioned method for organizing his author’s thoughts. But where was he? And who was the intruder who had unceremoniously knocked Rick onto his face? He couldn’t help concluding that the visitor had something to do with Signor Aragona’s displeasure with the arrangement. Could it have been Aragona himself?

The sound of footsteps arose from the stairwell and Rick looked around to find anything that could serve as a weapon. The intruder could be returning, and this time more ready to take on Rick. As his eyes peered into the kitchen a figure appeared in the doorway.

“Riccardo, sorry I’m late. I see you found your way in.”

Rick ran his fingers through his hair and tried to relax his tense muscles. “Do you always leave your door open, Fabrizio?”

His cousin walked into the kitchen and put two bottles of mineral water from the plastic bag into the small refrigerator. “I don’t usually lock the door if I’m just going out for a minute. Orvieto’s not a big city, I don’t worry about burglars.”

Rick sat down on the sofa and rubbed his hands together. The skin now felt a bit raw from his fall, something he hadn’t noticed during the excitement. “Perhaps you should worry, Fabrizio. I think there was someone in here.” He decided not to go into the details of his encounter with the intruder, perhaps a bit embarrassed by being blindsided. “Somebody ran down the steps when I was here in the living room. Does anything appear to be missing?”

Fabrizio’s mouth was open in mute surprise, and his eyes darted to his computer.

“Somebody was in here?” Relieved to see that his computer was safe, he surveyed the rest of the room. “Not much to steal here, really. I don’t own much, and the rest of the stuff came with the apartment. I guess my clothes could be gone.” While Rick waited he walked quickly into the bedroom and returned. “Everything’s the same, as far as I can tell. You must have surprised him before he could take something.”

“Maybe he was here to see you,” Rick said, and waited for the comment to sink in. There was no reaction. “The reason I wanted to talk to you is that your uncle and I are concerned that Signor Aragona could become fed up with this arrangement and do something to end it.”

“Do you think he knows? Tullia says he’s always at work and doesn’t pay any attention to her.”

“As you said, Flavio, this is a small town. He knows, believe me.”

The concern returned to the kid’s face. “What do you think he’d do?”

Rick stretched out his legs and folded one boot over the other. “How about come around and tell you he wasn’t happy?”

“Tullia says he never does anything himself.” He realized what he’d said and cringed. “Do you think he sent someone here, and that you showed up and scared him off?”

“That’s one possibility. The important thing is for you to be careful. A better thing would be for you to pack up your computer and clothes and head back to Perugia.”

“I can’t do that, Riccardo, Tullia needs me.” His voice sounded like he was not just trying to convince Rick, but himself as well.