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

is the one that Melograno is trying to purchase with the loan from Taylor’s bank.”

Rick’s eyes widened. “An interesting coincidence.”

“I’m sure your uncle has talked to you about such coincidences, Riccardo.”

“He has, he has. So what could—”

“Wait, it gets better. This person also said that it’s well known in local real estate circles that there is another bidder on that plot of land.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Don’t keep me hanging, Luca.”

“It is a certain Lauro Muller, the owner of a local hotel.”

“Lauro Muller. Hmm. Am I supposed to recognize—wait a minute. Zia Mitzi is named Muller. Has to be a relative.”

“Her husband, to be exact. He’s what could be described as a prominent businessman, and the manager of her mayoral campaign. Apparently he wants to buy the property to build another hotel. It would be a perfect place for one, I must say. People staying there could ski out the back door.”

“The same reason Melograno wants to build an apartment complex there.”

“Exactly. And it is one of the last choice pieces of undeveloped land in Campiglio close to the ski trails. I asked the sergeant to track down exactly who owns it. And something else about the Muller family: There is a son. He came back to Campiglio a few months ago after spending several years in Milano, where he was involved in some petty crime. Since returning home, however, he’s been working in his mother’s bakery and hasn’t gotten into any trouble.”

“His mother has whipped him into shape.”

“Mammas often do that.”

The two men silently pondered mothers. It was something Italian men did often.

“Has Pittini’s condition improved?”

“No, still in a coma. The stab wound is healing nicely, however. I did confirm that he was working the gondola on the night of the drop, so the possibility that he was involved in the Taylor case becomes stronger.”

“That’s good, since it weakens the possibility that the attacker was after me.”

“I suppose it does.” Luca pushed his papers to one side and got to his feet. “Let’s get a coffee on the way to see Mitzi Muller. I’d rather not get one from her if we are going to be asking her questions about the case. Wouldn’t be professional.”

“And that means we shouldn’t buy any almond cookies either. Flavio will be disappointed.”

While Luca pulled on his jacket, Rick walked to the wall and pulled out the thumbtack from where it was stuck near one corner of the poster. He smoothed down the curled corner with his left hand and carefully pressed the thumbtack back in place. The poster now showed the tips of the woman’s skis. It had been driving him crazy.

***

The same rich profumo of baked goods washed over them as they came through the door of the shop, even richer than their previous visit. Rick surmised that today they were closer to the morning baking hour, and the strong flavors of the ovens still hung in the air. He immediately regretted that Luca had vetoed any purchases. Besides the almond cookies, which he immediately spotted behind the glass, there were rows of other goodies to tempt him. Any one of them would have gone perfectly with an espresso.

There was no one behind the counter when they entered, but soon a figure appeared through the door. He was in his early twenties, unshaven, and stared at them through tired eyes. The long, white apron was stained with flour or sugar, and dark hair pushed out from under a blue baseball cap with a yellow M on the front. The way he stared at Rick and Luca, one would have thought he had just emerged from a cave after a long hibernation. After several seconds he spoke, but it was not to the two visitors.

“Mamma! Clienti!” He kept his eyes on them as he called out, then turned and disappeared into the back. Rick and Luca were left looking at each other for several seconds before Zia Mitzi hurried through the door. She had the same work outfit as their previous visit, but this time her hair was covered with a white scarf tied in the back. Perhaps she had been frosting a cake when they arrived.

“Yes, gentlemen, what can I—oh, it’s you, Inspector.” She tried to put on a more serious face, but it seemed to go against her nature. While other women her age had wrinkles caused by worry, Rick surmised that those around her eyes and mouth had formed from too much smiling. This was a resolutely cheerful woman. “Such a terrible thing, with that American man. I feel so bad for his sister. She lives upstairs, you know.” She cleaned her hands on her apron. “But you’re not here to talk about that, I’m sure. Can I get you another coffee? And some pastry?”

“Thank you, Signora Muller, but we are here regarding the investigations, and hoped you could be of help.” A perplexed look crossed her face as she waited for the policeman to continue. “I don’t believe you’ve met Signor Montoya.” Rick nodded.

“I had heard that an American was helping in the investigation, so I assumed he was the one who came in here with you the other morning. Welcome to Campiglio, Signor Montoya.” Her natural smile returned.

“Thank you, Signora.”

“Please, both of you, call me Mitzi. Everyone else does. Would you like to sit down?” She motioned to three small tables at one side of the room, near the window.

“Thank you,” answered Luca, “but we just have a few questions to ask. Let me start with the attack of two nights ago. Since it happened only a few steps from here, do you have any idea who could have done it?”

“The sergeant who came by yesterday asked me if I had heard or seen anything, but I told him we were closed at that hour. Since I get up so early every morning to bake, I was fast asleep when it happened, and since I sleep so soundly…”

“You live close by?” asked Rick.

“We live just down