Death in the Dolomites (20 page)

“This is excellent, Signora. I expect that you supply the pastries for your husband's hotel?”

She wiped her hands on her apron and nodded. “I supply pastries, as well as bread, to several hotels and restaurants in Campiglio. It is the largest part of the business. My son is out delivering bread now.” She crossed her arms across her ample chest and looked from one man to the other. “Do you really suspect my husband in this investigation?”

Luca choked slightly on his brioche but quickly regained his voice. “We are questioning everyone who could have had any connection with the murdered man, Signora. That is normal procedure in these cases.”

“And you won't tell me who is suspect and who is not.”

As she spoke, Rick studied her round face and decided there was more to Auntie Mitzi than her motherly smile and almond cookies. Perhaps she could be an effective mayor if she managed to beat Grandi, though if Flavio were to be believed, her victory was unlikely. “You know this town as well as anyone, Signora. Where do you think the inspector should be concentrating his efforts?”

She turned on the water in the small metal sink and began rinsing out the cups that were stacked there. “I am the wrong person to ask, Signor Montoya. As you know, I am a candidate for mayor, so I don't want to alienate any voters by giving their names to the police.”

Rick could spot a clever answer when he heard one. Any attempt to assure her that whatever she said would be held in confidence was laughable in a town this size. Apparently Luca thought the same; there was no more talk of the murder as they finished their coffee. Rick insisted on paying and Luca did not protest. As she handed him his change, Mitzi thanked them and said: “If you're planning to talk to my husband again, you won't find him at the hotel today. He's in Pinzolo at the Hotel Miramonte. He owns it too.”

Luca thanked her and glanced at Rick who was staring at the rows of cakes behind the glass. “Do you want to get something for your afternoon snack, Riccardo?”

“No, no, Luca. I was just…” He looked up at Mitzi's wooden smile. “Thank you, Signora. We will get some of your famous cookies on a future visit.”

“Don't wait too long in the day, Signor Montoya, they sell out early.”

He thanked her for the advice and they went from the enveloping warmth of the bakery to the crisp air of the street, buttoning their coats and adjusting their hats as they stood on the sidewalk.

“So, Riccardo, it appears that Signor Muller is in Pinzolo. Would you like to join me there this afternoon? You can talk to him about his car while I go to the mechanic to check on Melograno's car.”

“I'm afraid I can't, Luca. I promised Cat I would take her skiing. But I promise to go see Muller this evening. And that way it won't appear connected to the investigation; I can show up at his hotel because I'm interested in his Jeep, and that's all.”

“That's true. It won't be as contrived.”

They checked the traffic in both directions, like school kids, before crossing the street to Bruno's store. According to the hours posted on the door, it had just opened, but there was one customer there already, a man trying on ski boots. He was being fitted by a woman who watched as the man clomped around the rug. Bruno stood at the cash register watching, but looked up when Rick and Luca came through the door. His expression stiffened, but quickly took on a rigid smile accompanied by a nod to Rick. If he'd wanted to hide, there was nowhere to go. He came out from behind the counter and shook hands with Rick. Luca had wandered to the sale table where he had previously found his beloved hat.

“
Salve
, Bruno.”

“
Ciao
, Riccardo,
come stai?
”

“I'm well, thanks. I need some gloves.”

Bauer looked relieved. “For skiing?”

“No, just a warm pair for walking around town. Maybe lined leather.”

“Of course. I have—” He watched Luca fingering items on the sale table next to the shelf where gloves were on display.

“That's my friend Luca Albani,” said Rick. “You sold him that hat a few days ago.”

“Yes, of course. We sell a lot of hats, but I remember him. The policeman, correct?” He rubbed his goatee with the back of his hand.

“That's right, up from Trento investigating Cam Taylor's death.”

The whole hand now massaged the goatee. “And Caterina, she is doing better after the tragedy? She seemed to be recovering when I saw her with you in the bar.”

“She's coming along. I didn't know that you and Gina were seeing each other.”

“You know Gina?”

“She didn't mention to you that we'd met?”

“Perhaps she did. Let me show you some gloves.”

Bruno led the way to the gloves section where Luca was waiting with a pleasant smile and an outstretched hand. “Signor Bauer, I must thank you again for this hat. It is both warm and stylish.” Bruno shook his hand and mumbled a response. “But please don't let me keep you from showing Riccardo some gloves. He's been walking around for days with his hands in his pockets.”

It didn't take Rick long to find a pair in a color that somewhat matched the stained patina of his leather jacket. Bruno had moved behind the counter, snipping off the price tag, when Luca approached. “You're open every day in the winter, Signor Bauer?”

“Except for Monday mornings, Inspector. The ski season is when we make most of our money.”

“I can understand that. You must take in considerably more outfitting skiers in the winter than hikers in the summer. And you are here all the time?”

“Most of the time.” He handed the gloves to Rick. “I take an occasional break to ski, but I usually put in a ten-hour day.”

“Weekends too? For example, last Saturday?”

Bauer took a deep breath, as if trying to remember. “The days tend to run together when you work all of them.”

“I'm sure they do. That was the day Signor Taylor disappeared.”

He tried to make his shrug appear casual. “I think I came in at the usual time, about nine, and was here until we closed. I left in the late afternoon for a while since I hadn't had lunch.”

Rick silently watched the exchange, noting how Luca had shifted smoothly from innocent inquiries into what could only be described as an informal interrogation. Bauer knew what was going on, but seemed determined not to acknowledge it.

“A sandwich at a bar?”

“No, I went home. It is just a few blocks from here.”

“Did you see Signor Taylor that morning, by any chance? He lived just across the street.”

“No, I never saw him mornings.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

Again Bauer paused to think. “It must have been when he came in last week with his sister to rent her skis. I don't remember what day it was, but I can look it up if you wish.”

“Don't bother, we can ask Signora Taylor.” Luca looked around the store, which remained empty except for the one man, still clomping about, but now on his third pair of ski boots. “Riccardo, we should let Signor Bauer get back to his clients. Is business good, Signor Bauer?”

“It could be better, Inspector.”

***

“Let's stand here in front of the store, Riccardo, where Bauer can see us.” Luca adjusted his hat, a ritual Rick noticed each time they emerged into the open air. “He doesn't have much of an alibi. But the only motive I can think of is that he was annoyed with Taylor for being with Gina Cortese, which doesn't seem very strong.”

Rick shrugged as he pulled on his new purchases. “People have killed for less.” He held out one gloved hand, like a woman checking out her new manicure, then squeezed it into a fist before holding it up to his face to sniff the new leather. “Where to next?”

The inspector checked his watch. “We should be just in time to catch Gina Cortese between her classes. They told me she would be up here.” He waved a finger toward the western side of the town.

They crossed back over the street and took the sidewalk past shops and apartment entrances until they reached an alley that led up to a set of scuffed wooden steps. At their top an open expanse of snow spread out where three ski trails ended and a four-seat chairlift picked up the skiers to take them back up to the top.

Among the kilometers of trails that cut through the forests on the three sides above Campiglio, the most difficult ones ended here. Thanks to a gentle final slope, one wide section at the end of the trails was filled with beginners, mostly children, taking their lessons. They were divided into small, chattering packs, each herded by an instructor. The kids had to learn to get up the hill before they could try to get down, so a short lift next to the line of trees served that purpose. Its cable had plastic discs dangling from the ends of poles that the operators patiently slipped between the legs of each small skier to take them up. Most kids mastered it immediately, riding the pole to the top before letting go, but along the way a few lost their balance and crumpled to the ground. They formed a line of wriggling snow-covered debris awaiting rescue.

Wearing a headband and goggles, Gina Cortese was easy to pick out from among the various instructors. Her diminutive charges, five in total, lined up behind her as she skied diagonally in wide arcs, urging them to imitate her exaggerated moves. Rick and Luca waited at the bottom of the run, their civilian clothes contrasting with that of the skiers around them. Gina reached the bottom, gave some final instructions to her class, and pushed herself toward the two men who were starting to stamp their feet to keep warm. She had spotted them on the way down, which was easy to do.

“You are waiting for me, I suppose?” She pushed her goggles to the top of her head.

“That is correct, Signora Cortese,” Luca answered. “I had a couple more questions. You have the time now?”

“I do. My next lesson doesn't start for fifteen minutes. I imagine you want to ask me about Elio. He's got to be one of the suspects in this.”

She gave the policeman a probing look, awaiting an answer. Rick was trying to remember who this Elio was, and from the initial expression on his face, so was Luca, who then responded. “Ah, your ex-husband. You believe the mayor should be a suspect in this crime?”

“If he's not involved directly, he has to know who did it. He knows everything that goes on in Campiglio. Even before he became mayor he had his nose into everybody's business.”

“And what would be his motive?” asked Rick, wondering if she would mention her relationship with the dead man before her divorce from the mayor.

“Hell, I don't know. You're the detectives, you can figure something out. Cam was a banker, perhaps Elio had some financial deal that didn't work out. Nothing would surprise me.”

Luca digested her comment. “Refresh my memory about last Saturday, Signora. You didn't see Signor Taylor that morning, if I remember correctly?”

Her expression tightened. “No. That's my busiest day of classes. You can check the ski school calendar. They start at ten and I came here immediately after breakfast.”

“You have breakfast at home?”

“No, I always have it at Mitzi's. It's close to my morning lessons.” She lifted her ski pole and pointed.

“Yes, we just came from there,” said Luca. “Did Mitzi herself serve you?”

“I can't remember. Sometimes it's Mitzi, and sometimes Vittorio, her son. I don't know which it was that day. No, wait, it was Vittorio. I remember now since he was talking with Bruno when I got there.”

“Bruno Bauer?” said Rick.

“Yes, his store is across the street. He told me the other night that you'd met.”

“Yes, I know Bruno. In fact we just came from his store.”

“You are covering the town well,” Gina said, sliding her skis forward and back. “First Mitzi, then Bruno. You don't think that he could be involved, do you?” She looked at Luca.

“We went to his store since Riccardo needed new gloves.” Backing up the inspector's statement, Rick held up his hands and flexed the fingers.

Gina leaned forward on her skis and stretched her back before turning to Rick. “Riccardo…It is Riccardo, isn't it?”

“That's right.”

“Riccardo, every time I meet you I become upset. First when you two told me about Cam's disappearance. Then when you and Flavio saw me across the mountain. Even the other night, when I saw you with Cam's sister, it reminded me of his death. It's happening again. And now I have to worry about Bruno.” She pulled her goggles down, either in annoyance to show she wanted the interview to finish, or to hide tears behind the tinted plastic lenses.

“Gina, I'm sorry it had to be this way. But I'm certain you want to find his murderer just as much as we do.”

“Of course I do.” She stared at the snow while taking the grips of her poles and jumping lightly in preparation for departure, but then looked at Rick. “There was an avalanche yesterday in which two Americans were almost buried. That wouldn't have been—”

“Cat Taylor and me. How did you hear about it?”

“This is a small town, Riccardo.” She pushed on her poles and slid away toward a group of instructors.

***

Upon reaching the top of the wooden stairs, Rick stamped his feet to bang off the accumulated snow and restart circulation. His cowboy boots were warm, but they were not intended to be worn while standing in snow for long periods. Luca appeared less affected by their trek.

“Well, Riccardo, what did you make of Signora Cortese on this occasion?” They stepped carefully down the stairs to the narrow street.

“She has her alibis, but that's nothing new. I was surprised when she mentioned seeing Bauer at Mitzi's bakery the morning of Taylor's disappearance.”

Luca nodded as they walked. “He should have mentioned it himself. It confirms where he was at that time of the morning. She could be lying to protect him, but if she did, it wasn't very smart since I can ask Mitzi's son if he was there that morning.”