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

And I’m going to interview some of Pittini’s co-workers to see if they can tell me anything about who could have attacked him.”

“That’s right, Pittini. I’d almost forgotten about him.”

“He shouldn’t forget you, Riccardo. I spoke with the doctor who said your first aid on the scene likely kept him from losing a dangerous amount of blood.”

“What did the doctor say about his condition?”

“No change on the concussion. But the knife wound is healing well.”

Rick felt himself shiver. Not since the attack had they discussed the possibility that he was the intended target of the attacker. And he didn’t want to bring it up now.

“And you are heading for the mountain after lunch?”

“I am. Cat wanted to ski, to get her mind off things.”

“That’s very noble of you, Riccardo.” He looked out over the porch that ran outside the window of the dining room. The sun glistened off the snow. “It appears to be a fine afternoon to take to the ski trails.”

Chapter Eleven

Gazing down, Rick came to the conclusion that afternoon skiers were more languid and reflective than those who took to the trails in the morning. Fatigue played a part, as did the effects of food and wine at midday, but there was something about the afternoon which invited the skier to take in the experience as a whole and not think only of the joy of speed. Perhaps the angle of the sun caused it, or a shift in the wind direction. Whatever it was, skiers paused more frequently to enjoy the scenery, stopped more frequently to talk. Reaching the bottom was something faced with reluctance, even when there was time to return to the top.

He and Cat were floating inside one of the egg-shaped cabine that ran high above the clumps of skiers. It had passed through a wooded area as it steadily climbed, eventually bursting into the open spaces of the glacier where the cable slowed for an intermediate stop. This would be their last run, and they stayed on, as did the skiers who occupied two of the other four places in the cabina: teenage girls who stared silently through the windows while listening to music through ear buds.

“Can you make out what they’re listening to?”

Rick shook his head. “Could be rap, could be Rossini. All I hear is a faint crackle.”

“Do they have Italian rap groups?”

“I’m afraid so.”

They faced each other, knees and boot tips touching, ski poles leaning against the empty middle seats. Cat wore the same outfit Rick had seen in the picture with her brother: a one-piece blue suit with white boots and a matching knit hat. Her blond hair poked from the sides and back of the hat. She had turned out to be a competent skier, as Rick had expected after her mention of family vacations in Vail. Fortunately for Rick’s ego he was more competent, thanks to college outings to the less elegant slopes of the southern Rockies. His ski apparel was more appropriate to Sandia Peak, New Mexico, than Vail, Colorado—a pair of heavy rain pants pulled over blue jeans, and a red parka which he still clung to from his college days. The outfit had served to keep him warm thus far on Campiglio’s trails, especially on this afternoon when the sun was unencumbered by clouds. Just before they began their first run, Cat had pulled a small tube from her pocket and spread sun cream on his nose and cheeks.

“You’ve been sweet to take care of me, Rick.”

He lowered his eyes and touched his hand to his forehead. “It is my duty to help damsels in distress, Ma’am.”

She giggled. “Stop that. I mean it. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I enjoy being with you, Cat. Let’s leave it at that. And I’m glad you picked me instead of your neighbor to unburden yourself.” He wasn’t sure how that comment would be taken.

“Daniele? Oh, please. He’s a nice enough person, I suppose. But…”

Something better came along. He knew girls who did that kind of thing in high school, but ran into fewer of them now that he was in his thirties. He should give her the benefit of the doubt, in a stressful time she needed someone from her country, not just a guy who spoke her language. It’s how his mother would have explained Cat’s behavior, and Mamma knew a thing or two about finding herself in a strange country.

“Have you talked to him lately?”

She took off a glove and retrieved a strand of hair that had escaped from her cap. “He came to my door this morning and we talked. Wanted to know if he could help, and I told him that Lori was taking care of my needs. And I have to admit that Lori’s been very helpful. There are things about the Italian authorities that I would never have known about, let alone been able to deal with. Daniele didn’t know that the consulate had sent someone. He was impressed.”

The cabina was starting to slow as it neared the end of the line. They went from light to shadow as it slid through the opening in the cement building that housed the gears and pulleys as well as a small snack bar. When they were shunted off to a slower cable the doors slid open automatically. As they had practiced on earlier runs, Cat grabbed their poles and stepped out first, followed by Rick who then pulled their skis from tubes on the outside of the door. When they reached the snow and sunshine, Rick dropped the skis in four parallel lines and Cat stuck the poles next to them. She smiled at him before adjusting her goggles.

“We make a good team, Rick.”

“Easy for you to say, Cat. I had to carry two pairs of heavy skis.”

She laughed and stepped into her bindings. “This will be the final run, let’s make it last.”

“I agree.” He snapped into his skis and they both adjusted their wrist straps.