To Die in Tuscany by David Wagner (novels for teenagers .txt) 📕

didn’t have one from this courtyard,” he said and looked up at the shuttered windows of the top floor. “Maybe from up there the view is as good as from Morelli’s living room.”

Betta was staring at one of the potted plants, though her eyes were not focused. Suddenly she fumbled in her purse and pulled out her phone. “You got it, Rick. Why didn’t we think of that sooner?” She looked at the small screen, found what she was searching for, and pressed the button.

“What did I say?”

“I’ll explain. Let me get through to Alfredo.”

* * *

Betta’s eyes darted up and down the street, unsure from which direction DiMaio would come. “Let’s go in—I can’t wait any longer.”

“Why don’t you call him again?”

She shook her head. “Look, Rick, we figured this out, and the missing drawing is my case. An officer from the art fraud squad should be the one to arrest him. I want to see his face when we confront him.”

“Betta, this isn’t only an art fraud case.”

She wasn’t listening. When she pulled roughly on the door handle they heard the faint ring of the bell somewhere in the back of the shop. Rick held open the door, and they walked inside. It all looked the same as when they had been there twenty-four hours earlier, including the case of miniatures. If any had been sold yesterday to some passing tourist, Bruzzone had replaced them with others. The door to the office in the back of the gallery was open barely a crack, and Rick thought he heard the voice of the owner, though it was so low he couldn’t be sure. When the door opened, Bruzzone stared at them with a lack of recognition but quickly composed himself. He was dressed in the same suit, shirt, and tie as the previous evening, and he pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and quickly cleaned his glasses. Stubble on his face competed with the neatly trimmed goatee. The bandage on his forehead was new, but the blue edges of the gash were visible at its edge. Mechanically, he raised his hand to cover it.

“Dottoressa Innocenti, Signor Montoya. You have come by to check on me? How kind of you. As you can see, I am recovering nicely.”

He stood just inside the doorway to the office and made no move to approach them. Was there someone else in the office? Betta stepped forward. “There was no guard outside, Signor Bruzzone, and we wanted to be sure you were all right.”

He clasped his hands like a priest greeting his flock. “Yes, of course, the guard. I requested that he be removed. As you can imagine, having a policeman standing outside the door does not help business. Have you brought news of the missing Piero? I didn’t sleep well last night thinking that it may never be found.”

“We think we know where it is.”

He froze but quickly recovered his composure. “Really? Why, that’s excellent.” His eyes started to move to his side before he looked back at Betta. “I had always thought it was tossed away by someone who didn’t understand its value. Has one of your colleagues in the art fraud police found it already on the black market?”

“No, it’s still here in Urbino. In fact, it is very close to where we are now standing.”

Bruzzone swallowed hard and stood frozen in place. His eyes moved to Rick. “Signor Montoya, I don’t understand what she’s saying. Can you help?” It was as much a plea as a question.

“What she means, Signor Bruzzone, is that the missing drawing, since the night Manuel Somonte was murdered, has been in your possession.”

Betta pointed over Bruzzone’s shoulder at the bulletin board. “You told me that you had made a copy of the Piero sketch and very cleverly offered it to me to use in the investigation. But that drawing on the wall is the one you took from Somonte’s leather case.”

Bruzzone now scrambled behind the desk and pulled the sketched face off the wall, sending a pushpin flying. “Are you saying that I murdered Somonte for this?” He waved the drawing in the air while Rick and Betta stood transfixed.

Rick held up his hands. “Signor Bruzzone, please—”

Bruzzone stared at the paper in his hand and then dropped it on the desk. Keeping his attention on Rick, he reached down and opened the top drawer. His right hand came out with a dark pistol that he pointed at Rick and Betta. Still looking at them, he held up his left hand, as if keeping someone back.

“We will be all right, my dear. Stay where you are, and I will take care of these two.”

“Signor Bruzzone, put down the gun,” said Betta. “Inspector DiMaio will be here at any moment—you won’t be able to escape. This is only making matters worse for you and your wife.”

Rick slowly moved in front of Betta. “She’s right—it will only make your situation worse. If you’ll just—”

The door crashed open, causing Bruzzone to take his eyes off Rick and Betta.

“Drop the pistol!” DiMaio shouted while pulling his own weapon from his belt holster.

Rick shoved Betta down just as a shot rang out. As he was dropping to the floor to cover her, another was fired. He heard a woman’s scream and turned to see Bruzzone sprawled facedown on top of his desk, the pistol spinning slowly on the floor below. The woman who had screamed was now standing next to the desk, staring at his body and sobbing.

Other police officers burst into the gallery with guns drawn, but DiMaio ordered them out and told one to call an ambulance. As Rick and Betta were getting to their feet, he retrieved Bruzzone’s pistol from the floor using a handkerchief and placed it on top of the glass case.

“It’s fortunate he wasn’t a very good shot.” DiMaio looked back at the office. “I will call a policewoman to take care of Signora Bruzzone.”

“That’s not Signora Bruzzone,” said Betta. “It is Loretta Tucci, the