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

Rick picked up one of the wooden cars and turned it in his hand. It was a Fiat 500, the traditional model rather than the new one. “I am without a car at the moment, Mr. Mayor, since I’m living in the center of Rome, but I’m thinking of buying something for weekends outside the city.”

Grandi looked at the model in Rick’s hand. “Un Cinquecento?”

“No, something larger, for the mountains. I’d like to drive up into the Apennines to hike, as I did in America. Are you happy with your Land Rover? A friend of mine had one and said that the shift is a little bit stiff.”

“It does take some getting used to, but I’m fine with it. It’s out in back, would you like to try it?”

This was going better than Rick had hoped. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“None at all, my assistant can cover the shop.”

Though he was wearing a thin sweater, Grandi didn’t bother to get a coat or hat, but given his size, he likely didn’t feel the cold. As they walked out the door of the shop it hit Rick that if the Land Rover was used to transport the body, the man would not be so quick to show it. Someone could have driven it without the mayor’s knowledge, but who would have an extra key? The Land Rover was parked just off the piazza in a space marked with the sign SINDACO. One of the perks of being mayor.

“This does not look anything like my friend’s Land Rover,” Rick said as he eyed the shiny chrome and sleek design. “His was kind of boxy. But a much older model than this one, of course.”

“This is three years old, ordered by my predecessor. He should have waited until after the election so I could make the decision. Want to get in?” He opened the driver’s side door.

“Sure.” The interior was that of a luxury car, its dashboard futuristic, with a screen dominating the space between the front seats. Rick felt like he was sitting in a cockpit. He opened the door and climbed out. “Impressive. Lots of room in the back?”

“You mean the trunk? That’s the best part.”

Grandi walked behind and pulled a handle, causing half the rear panel to swing up while the other dropped down. Perfect for tailgating, was Rick’s first thought. Or transporting bodies. The back seats had been laid flat, and the entire space was covered with a thick, soft blanket.

When he saw Rick studying the blanket, he said: “I often use it to transport my work,” then stepped up and slammed the rear doors shut with a thump.

Rick thanked the mayor, made excuses about needing to return to the hotel, and promised to be back to pick out toys for his nephews. As he walked up the hill to the hotel, he thought about what he’d seen. The Land Rover, with four-wheel drive and snow tires, was perfect for transporting a body, no doubt about that. And Grandi was big enough to heave one in and out of it. If there had been any blood stains, the blanket covered them, but they could already have been cleaned anyway. However, the fact that the man had willingly shown off his vehicle should indicate that he had nothing to hide. Unless he merely wanted Rick to think he had nothing to hide. Bottom line: not much gained except to confirm that Grandi had the tools to pull off the murder. Add motive and lack of a good alibi, and the man continued to be a prime suspect. But how to prove it? The next logical step would be to get a warrant to search the Land Rover, though he wasn’t sure if Luca wanted the political heat that would inevitably come with such scrutiny of the mayor. Rick passed the narrow street that led to the church, and for a moment entertained the idea of dropping in to say a prayer for guidance. It couldn’t hurt. Instead, he continued up to the hotel.

Chapter Thirteen

Inspector Albani finished scanning the used car pages and put the copy of Quattroruote back on the table in front of him. Muller, he’d decided, subscribed to every Italian car magazine and wrote off the cost by sending the old issues to tables in his hotel lobbies. He checked his watch and looked around. This hotel, unlike the one in Campiglio, was all glass and metal, as modern as one could find in Italy. Curiously, the furniture looked like something out of an English drawing room: dark wood with large amounts of fringe and stuffing. Fortunately it was reasonably comfortable, given that he’d been waiting a long time for Muller to get out of his meeting. If indeed there was a meeting. He was about to reach for another car magazine when Muller appeared and walked quickly toward him. Once again, he was impeccably dressed. Luca started to get to his feet.

“Please stay seated, Inspector. I’ll just sit over here.” He chose the chair across from the policeman that kept him at the same eye level, despite his diminutive stature. “You’ve come down to Pinzolo just to see me? Must be something important.”

“Actually, Signor Muller, I have something else to deal with in this lovely town, but your wife told me this morning that you would be here, so I thought I would drop by. I was hoping there might be something else you could have remembered that might have a bearing on this case. Or the attack on Pittini.” He leaned forward and smiled broadly.

Muller looked at the policeman like he’d been asked the question in a foreign language. “Inspector, I answered all your questions the last time we met, and I thought I’d convinced you that not only do I know nothing about his murder, I barely knew the man himself. Should you not be talking with people who might have had some