Death in the Dolomites by David Wagner (feel good books .TXT) 📕

“I got the impression you were in tight with the inspector.” She took another drink of her cappuccino and placed the cup back in the saucer.

“I don’t think I can be described as ‘in tight’ with the man.” The way she was pushing him made it easy for Rick to lie. He shrugged. “As I said, he’s staying in the same hotel.”

“Well maybe you could ask him for me the next time you see him. It’s my brother, after all, I have a right to know. If it makes you feel any better, you don’t have to say I asked.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Her hand moved to cover his. “Thank you, Rick.” Her eyes moved from his to over Rick’s shoulder. “Well now,” she said, her voice lowered slightly, “you know this is a small town when even I start to see people I know.”

Rick turned to see Bruno Bauer walking through the door. He shook snow off his thick black hair with his gloved hand and surveyed the room. After a few sweeps he spotted someone and walked toward a table near the front where a blond woman sat with her back to Rick and Cat. Bauer bent over the woman who turned her face so he could kiss her on both cheeks before sitting in the opposite chair. Well, well, thought Rick. Bauer and Gina Cortese seem to be friends.

Bauer pulled off his gloves and coat and found the waiter. After giving his order he looked up and spotted Cat. He leaned forward and said something to Gina, who turned around. She was a different woman from the one he’d seen drinking with her colleagues, starting with a tight sweater and slacks. The hair was now puffed up to double the previous size, hoop earrings dangled from her ears, and she had enough makeup on to cover several faces. Her expression showed puzzlement with a dash of annoyance. Bauer got to his feet and walked toward them.

Rick was standing when Bauer reached the table and took Cat’s hand in both of his. “Caterina, I am so sorry. My condolences.” His English was thickly accented but passable. It came from dealing with the few American and English tourists who come through Campiglio, Rick thought.

“Thank you, Bruno. This is Rick Montoya, an American friend.”

Rick shook Bruno’s hand and stayed in English. “Bruno and I have met, Cat. I rented my skis at his shop on this trip.”

The man was uncomfortable, but Rick couldn’t know if it was because of Cat’s loss or finding she was with the person who’d come into his shop with the policeman. Or his limited English. Whatever the reason, Rick expected Bruno to beat a quick retreat, and he did. After mumbling some more words to Cat he went down the steps to the lower part of the room and returned to his seat facing Gina Cortese. Cat had not recognized Gina, and Rick thought it better not to point her out.

“Do you know Bruno well?” Cat asked before sipping her coffee.

“Not really. Flavio introduced me when I was renting the skis.” No use mentioning the encounter with Luca, Rick thought. “And how well do you know him?”

“The same.”

Rick would not have expected Bruno’s tender condolences, even from an Italian, if his relationship with Cat was based purely on determining her boot size. Watch it, Montoya, he thought. Your Italian side is taking over, the one that’s always looking for something hiding behind even the most innocuous statements. He drank another sip of beer, noticing a slightly bitter aftertaste.

“What are your plans, Cat? I mean in the next week or so.”

She stirred the cappuccino and pondered the question. “Cam’s body won’t be released for a few days, and I’m not in any rush to get back to the States. The apartment here is paid for through the end of the month, not that Daniele would throw me out. I really don’t have anything to get back to.” She had been staring at her cup and now she looked at Rick. “That’s why I came here in the first place, to get away from what was going on back there.”

“Your divorce is final, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but that’s not the problem. I’m just not sure what I’m going to do next.”

“Like work? Or where you want to live?”

“Both those things. I have a lot of questions to answer.”

“I get the sense you don’t even know yet what all the questions are.”

“Perhaps you’re right, Rick. Perhaps you’re right.”

The woman is aging before my eyes, Rick thought. For him, life had moved easily from one stage to another without many agonizing decisions. From as far back as he remembered he’d wanted to go to college where his father had graduated, and once at UNM getting into language study was another logical choice. After all, he was already fluent in English and Italian, and almost the same level in Spanish. The translation work had started in college, helping pay his tuition, so it was easy to hang out a shingle after he got his graduate degree. Even moving the business to Rome was an easy decision. And it all had turned out well so far. Unlike this poor woman who had already messed up her life by getting into a bad marriage. And now she didn’t know what to do with herself, or even where to do it. At least money wasn’t a problem for Catherine Taylor. He watched her as she stared blankly around the rest of the large room.

“Let’s get you home, Cat. You look exhausted.”

“It has been a long day. The cold outside and this cappuccino woke me up, but now it’s starting to get to me.”

Rick rose from his chair and walked to the bar, behind which their waiter was pouring drinks into glasses on a tray. From a wad of tickets in his pocket he found the right one and passed it