Cold Tuscan Stone by David Wagner (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

That seemed like an apt description of this case, Rick thought, surprised that he was still thinking about it. “So, cara, what would you have in mind to educate the rude American on his first trip to Volterra?”

The second course arrived. For Erica it was a piece of grilled fish carefully centered on a thin crisp slice of potato and drizzled with a lemony sauce. Put before Rick was a slice of beef whose pink texture contrasted with the three green strips of asparagus next to it. He had seen larger pieces of steak put in doggy bags back in Albuquerque, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

“The cathedral is a good one, there is a famous wood deposition near the main altar, and the carving on the podium is worth seeing.”

“I think I’ve heard of that,” he said as he stared at the plate and recalled Donatella’s similar comments about the deposition. Pulling his mind back to the meal, he wondered if the flavor of the meat would make up for the portion. He carefully sliced off a small bite. “You’ve been reading up, or did you remember the cathedral deposition from your last trip here?”

“I did consult my Touring Club Toscana guidebook,” she replied. “It’s an old edition, but the sites here haven’t changed much. It’s Italy, after all.”

Only the portions in the restaurants have gotten smaller, Rick thought. He carefully cut another very thin piece of his meat to make it last, and put it in his mouth. The taste was as good as any steak he had eaten. It was not for nothing that Tuscany was called the Texas of Italy, and Volterra was on the northern edge of the Maremma, Tuscan cowboy country. He glanced around the room as he chewed. No Stetsons. There were only a few empty tables left, the word was out that this was the place to eat, and the clientele appeared to be predominately local. Not that there were many tourists in town at this time of year. Rick chuckled as he watched one of the waiters leading a man and woman to a table at the opposite end of the room. She held the man’s arm tightly with a look somewhere between affectionate and coquettish.

“What is funny, Ricky?” Erica was also not rushing to consume her fish.

“The couple that just came in, at the far table.” He made a slight movement with his chin, and Erica turned her head slightly in that direction. “They are two of the people I met this week, and it appears the guy’s secretary may be more than just an employee. This must be the night of his wife’s favorite crime show, and she preferred to eat in. Oops. He’s spotted me, and here he comes.” They watched as the large man carefully worked his way across the room, forcing a few chairs to be pulled in as he walked. Rick stood when he reached their table.

“Signor Polpetto, so good to see you again.”

“Piacere mio, Signor Montoya.”

“This is my friend Erica Pedana, visiting from Rome.”

Polpetto bowed formally and shook Erica’s hand. “I hope you will enjoy our city, Signorina, including this excellent restaurant. I see you have chosen the coda di rospo, one of their specialties.” Erica murmured praise for the dish. “I will let you get back to your meal.” He turned to Rick. “This is not the time for business, Signor Montoya. Let me say that I am still putting together some possibilities for your gallery, and I’ll be in Florence tomorrow to gather more information. But Claretta and I are curious—did you ever find those special items you were seeking?”

Rick could get nothing from the thin smile on the man’s face.

“I believe so,” he finally answered.

“Good, good. Well, it was a pleasure to see you, and to meet you, Signorina.”

Polpetto shook their hands again and walked carefully through the tables, trying to keep his bulk from bumping into any of the other diners. He sat down and bent his head to say something to the secretary, who wore her usual glasses with matching earrings. She placed her hand on Polpetto’s, listened carefully, and looked across the room, giving Rick a nodding smile. He could not help noticing something new: bright red lipstick. Evening wear.

“What a strange man,” said Erica after she returned to her plate. “Will he be on the list when you eventually give me a complete report on all this?”

“Yes, of course.” Strangely, Rick’s thoughts were not on the case, but rather on something else which had crossed his mind about Polpetto’s appearance in the restaurant. Erica’s next comment startled him; she was thinking the exactly same thing.

“I hope he manages to get enough to eat in this place.”

Chapter Nine

Rick was back to his normal morning routine. Well, almost normal. He had just returned to the breakfast table after taking a call at the front desk. He poured Erica another cup of coffee, adding a touch of hot milk, just the way she liked it.

“That was Zerbino, the curator of the museum. He invited me to come by this morning when the museum’s closed. Said he felt badly about giving me short shrift the other day. I accepted, but didn’t mention your presence. Why don’t you come with me? He certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Erica brushed away some of the crumbs from her half-eaten cornetto and stirred her cup with a small spoon. “I’ve been to that museum, Ricky, and to be honest, I’m not very keen on the Etruscans. My Etruscan course was taught by a professor who was constantly looking at me in a way that I didn’t appreciate.”

“I do, but I certainly wouldn’t blame—”

“Ricky.” He’d forgotten. No joking until after the coffee does its work.

“Sorry. But Zerbino seems like a nice guy, and I assume all Etruscan scholars are not dirty old men. He’ll be giving a private tour of the museum.” He rooted through the basket