The younger man had such a strange look on his face that it surprised Commissario Conti. He expected that LoGuercio would not to be very excited about the assignment of tailing someone. He would have felt the same way; nothing could be more boring. But everyone has to do this kind of work when starting out.
“Yes, sir, I heard you.” LoGuercio composed himself. “When is he arriving in Volterra?”
“I don’t know yet, but it will be soon. Apparently the ministry is giving him a briefing today, so they will tell me after that. Or perhaps they will come to their senses and change their minds. I’ll let you know.” He stared down again at the file. “I think it might be better if you don’t meet him. He will be easier to watch if he doesn’t know his watcher. Get someone to help you. DeMarzo is pretty good, use him. I expect the American will arrive in the next day or so. I don’t need to tell you that anything regarding this case should be kept strictly with those of us who are working on it. The art cops were very specific about that.”
Conti looked back down at the papers and detective LoGuercio immediately understood that the meeting had ended. He rose from the chair and left the room, clutching the file. After the door closed the man at the desk got up and went to the window, staring down at the square. Then he turned and extended a cupped right hand in front of his squint before swinging the arm behind his back and slowly rolling the imaginary bocce ball toward the wall.
***
The room where Rick got his briefing must have been intended as a storage space for the priests who built the palazzo. It was smaller than Beppo’s office, featured none of the ornate ceiling decorations found throughout the rest of the building, and had not a single window. The rectangular florescent lamp that hung over the table could have come from a pool hall, but worked perfectly for the billiard-sized table it illuminated. On one wall hung a whiteboard, on another a map so old that it included Nice as part of Italy. There was no other decoration, unless one included the institutional furniture. Rick sat on one side of the table facing Beppo and a ministry colleague named Roberta Liscio. On Rick’s left, at the end of the table, sat a man introduced only as Signor Vetri. He was of indeterminate age, and wore a dark brown suit with a matching tie. Unlike the woman, who had smiled pleasantly when she shook Rick’s hand, Vetri had merely nodded at the American visitor and taken his seat.
Signora Liscio, the administrative person, spoke first, explaining how Rick would pick up his rental car, the hotel where he would be staying in Volterra, and how he would use the ministry-issued credit card to cover his expenses. Not that this would obviate the need to keep a careful record of expenses, she emphasized. When she slid the card across the table the look on her face gave the impression she was signing away her firstborn child. The floor then belonged to Beppo, who began by passing a single sheet of paper to Rick.
“These are the three people you will approach in Volterra, Rick. We decided to make it a short list even though there are others who could be considered possible suspects, but these three are by far the most likely to be involved in this operation.”
Beppo didn’t notice that Rick had stiffened slightly when he glanced down at the paper.
“The first name, Antonio Landi, is outwardly a pillar of the Volterra business community. His store, Galleria Landi, draws tourists seeking the alabaster objects for which Volterra is famous. He has exported large quantities of alabaster over the years, all overtly legitimate, but we have our suspicions. In the past few years we think he may have included some small Etruscan objects among his exports, though we’ve been unable to catch him in the act. He very well could have moved from small pieces to larger ones. What may be important for you, Rick, is that Landi knows everyone in town, including, we believe, its shadier elements. If he is not involved with the burial urns himself he may well know who is, and we assume he would be glad to serve as an intermediary.” Beppo pulled a passport-sized photo from the file and passed it to Rick. Landi’s angular features looked like someone who would be found in a police lineup; not that Rick had ever seen one, except in movies.
Rick took out a pen and put a check next to Landi’s name and address. Signora Liscio listened carefully as Beppo had talked, and Rick guessed she was not normally included in this aspect of the ministry’s work. Vetri, in contrast, settled back in his chair and studied the lamp.
“The second name on the list is a certain Rino Polpetto, who runs an import-export business. The fiscal police have never been able to pin anything on him, though they have had their suspicions about some of his exports, and we also have suspected him of some irregular dealings with antiques. Unfortunately he covers his activities well.”
“Or he’s just an honest businessman,” said Rick as he studied the second photo. The man could not have been more different from Landi; his face was round and his smile wide.
“We try not to waste our time with honest people here, Rick.” Beppo took back the second photo and passed a third. It was the one Rick was waiting to see.
“Donatella Minotti. As you can see, Rick, it should not be much of a chore for you to make contact with her.” Signora Liscio shook her head at the comment, unnoticed
