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

landscape in silence until he noticed another B line bus rolling into the space at the funicular station. They hoisted their bags on board and settled in the back. Soon another funicular load streamed out of the doors of the station, piled on, and they were on their way. The bus nosed out of the piazza and up a street which narrowed as it climbed before rolling into an even wider square three minutes later. They got off and faced the most spectacular cathedral facade in Italy.

The Gothic front of the Orvieto Duomo was an architectural triptych full of spires, statues, and arches. Its most striking feature was the number of colorful mosaics which filled every flat space, their bright figures contrasting with the white of the carved marble. Like all Gothic architecture, everything pointed up, reminding the faithful of the final prize, though it was difficult for Rick and Betta to keep their eyes off the art which ran from bottom to top. They walked slowly to the opposite end of the piazza where a long bench ran along the wall of the building. Squeezing between two groups of aging Italians, they sat on the stone with their bags between their legs.

Rick pressed his head back to get the maximum effect. “Even if there were nothing behind it, and the inside were bare, this is worth the trip to see.”

“Ah, Rick, but there is more inside, including one of the gems of the Rinascimento.”

“We will see it tomorrow.”

Clumps of tourists gathered around the square staring either at the facade or at the page in their guidebooks that described it. Among them were the three women from the funicular. Francine was deep in her guidebook, reading aloud while her two companions craned their necks at the spires. Shoulder-Length Hair held her hands up as if to isolate one section, but suddenly her face darted from the church to a far corner of the square. Rick watched her say a quick word to the other two and rush toward that corner, leaving her friends shaking their heads. She ran toward someone walking alone out of the square and immediately became lost behind a group of tourists. Rick returned his attention to the cathedral.

***

Rhonda ran through the tourists toward the man, his back to her. Suddenly she had the thought that she was mistaken, that it was not who she thought she’d seen. She stopped, and just at that moment the bell at the top of the clock tower struck the hour with a deep, metallic ring. The man stopped and turned to look up at the round face of the clock high above the square. He scowled at the clock and then at his own watch, then quickly walked off. Rhonda stared at his back.

“Everything will be all right, Rhonda. We must do this, for the cause.”

“I’m frightened, Luca.”

“I told you she shouldn’t have come along,” said the other man under his breath. “You should have left her back in Orvieto.”

Luca glared at him and turned back to Rhonda. “We’ve planned everything to the last detail. Nothing can go wrong. You’ll see. Trust me.”

She looked between the faces of the two men, wanting to believe that what they were doing was the right thing. “You’ll be careful?”

“Of course,” Luca answered.

While she watched, the two men slipped around the corner and disappeared from sight.

Yes, Rhonda thought. It’s you. And thanks to my research, I know where to find you. Her muscles stiffened and her hands tightened into fists.

When Rick moved his eyes back to the square, a tour leader holding an umbrella led her group toward the cathedral entrance and he saw the American woman in the distance, standing stiffly alone. The person she had rushed to see was nowhere in sight, and Rick guessed he had gone down one of the streets that led off the piazza.

The woman walked slowly back to join her companions who were studying the cathedral. Even from a distance Rick could notice a difference from how she’d looked when she was in the funicular and afterward getting on the bus. Seeing that person on the square had given her a jolt, but he couldn’t decide if it was anger or pleasure. Perhaps a bit of both.

“It’s in three parts,” said Betta.

Rick took his attention from the woman. “What?”

“The facade, it’s in three horizontal parts. Built at different times You can see the style change as the cathedral progressed over the centuries, but despite that, it all goes together quite well.”

“Yes. Yes it does.” He got to his feet. “Shall we go to the hotel? It’s up this street, if I got the directions right. We’ll come back here tomorrow.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and took the handle of Betta’s suitcase. Its wheels rattled over the cobblestones as they walked toward the Hotel Maitani.

Chapter Three

The location of the hotel could not have been better, only a few steps from the cathedral up a narrow street. Though the furnishings were mid-twentieth century, one could sense that the building had been used as an inn for much longer. It had likely undergone at least one renovation, but was getting close to needing another. Rick hoped that when it happened they would keep the marble floors, wood paneling, tall mirrors, and overstuffed chairs. Too many hotels became modern, only to find that the modern of that moment had too soon become the seedy and kitschy of the next. There was something comforting about out-of-fashion décor in hotels, a statement that they were comfortable in their own skin. The same could have been said of the hotel staff. The desk clerk had a wrinkled face under thinning gray hair and wore the traditional black suit over a white shirt and dark tie. Rick was relieved that there was no bell boy to help take their bags to the room, fearing another septuagenarian. They took the elevator to the second floor and found their room.

Betta separated