This time he spoke. “No, no, of course not. Otherwise I would have told the police.”
Luca flipped his notebook closed. “Naturally you would have. You don’t want to have problems with the police.” Melograno’s eyes narrowed but he remained silent.
***
“What was that last comment about?” asked Rick when they had descended the stairs and emerged into the cold air.
“The local sergeant told me that our friend Melograno was involved in a bribery scandal last year. Something involving a regional politician. It never made it out of the investigation stage since someone obviously stepped in to quash it. Melograno didn’t seem very happy when I made what he deduced was a very indirect reference to that case. Correctly deduced, I might add.” Luca’s face became even happier when he carefully placed his new hat over his head of thick dark hair and turned to catch his image in the glass of the shop window. “I’d better check in with the station. Perhaps Taylor has turned up.”
The phone call lasted several minutes and involved a few gestures that indicated he was not pleased with what he heard. As Luca was speaking, Rick looked at the merchandise in the shop window—hand-knitted children’s clothing. He tried to calculate what size his two nephews back in Albuquerque would be, but without success since he hadn’t seen them in almost a year. A wool sweater from Italy would be a nice gift, since their birthdays were coming up soon. As least he thought it was soon. He made a mental note to email his mother to find out.
Luca snapped the phone closed. “The mayor of Campiglio wants to see me. He just called the station.”
“Does he have some ideas to help your investigation?” They had walked to the edge of the porch and flakes began falling on their hats and clothing.
“A logical question for an American to ask. No, my friend, the sindaco is worried about how all this will affect tourism. The sergeant thinks the man wishes to make his concerns known to the investigative officer. That’s me. We will call immediately on Mayor Grandi at his shop on the piazza. Perhaps you could assure him, as a tourist, and even better, an American tourist, that missing countrymen play no part in your euro spending decisions. Then we will get back to our work and interview Gina Cortese.”
Rick chuckled as they stepped off the porch. It seemed that he was now Luca’s permanent sidekick. They reached the main square five minutes later and Luca marveled again at what a tiny gem of urban architecture it was, framed by the mountains. Rick pulled out his phone and checked the time. “This might be a good time to call the bank, Luca. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Go right ahead, I’ll check out the wares of this shop.” He walked toward a window filled with chocolate. Rick smiled and opened his phone.
It was surprisingly easy to get through to the banker. Only two secretaries, the first Italian and the second American, blocked the way. Apparently Rick had made some kind of positive impression. The man’s voice boomed so loudly Rick pulled the phone from his ear.
“Rick, so good to hear from you.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Fries.”
“What’s this Mr. Fries stuff? It’s Mark.”
“My pleasure, Mark. Though I would rather be calling under better circumstances. I’m up here in Campiglio, in the mountains, and the local police have pulled me in to help with a missing persons case.”
“Some cloak and dagger work? I always suspected that you—”
“No, Mark, local police work, but the missing person is Cameron Taylor.”
“Cam? What’s happened to him?”
“That’s what the police are trying to find out. His sister is here, which is why I was asked to help, since she doesn’t speak Italian.” He watched Luca enter the chocolate shop. “I can tell the police that you don’t know where he might be? He wasn’t called back to work?”
“No, absolutely not. He wasn’t going to be back in the bank until Thursday at the earliest. Could he have been lost on some ski trail? I know he’s a good skier, but—”
“They’ve searched the trails and found nothing. Mark, was there also some business he was doing up here?”
“Yes, that’s right, I’d forgotten. It’s a loan, but not a very large one for us.” The banker voice intruded, like he didn’t want to discuss private business. “Cam has complete discretion on such transactions.”
It would be a big loan for me, Rick thought, and also for Melograno. “Is there anything else that might help us discover where he is? Anyone else who he might have gone to see?”
“He was going there to ski, as far as I know. And that loan, of course, but he was really taking some days off to spend with his sister. Have you met her?”
“Yes, about an hour ago. Do you know her?”
“No. She’s been to Milan a few times, I think, but I’ve never had the pleasure.”
That confirms what Cat said, Rick thought. “Well, if you think of anything, give me a call. You have my cell number?”
“My secretary has it in her Rolodex.”
They exchanged pleasantries, with the usual promises to get together, and the call ended. Rick closed his phone and watched Luca emerge from the shop carrying a small bag. The smell of chocolate pushed out into the piazza before the door closed again.
“Tartufo?” Luca extended the open bag to Rick.
Rick couldn’t resist. Mass-produced Baci were his favorites, but he had to admit that any handmade cioccolatini, just cooled, couldn’t be rivaled. This truffle was filled with a smooth gianduia ganache. After enjoying one and fending off a second, Rick recounted his phone conversation with the banker.
“That doesn’t help much,” said Luca before popping another chocolate ball into his mouth.
***
Mayor Elio Grandi’s shop sold wood objects of all shapes and sizes. Most of its wares were handmade and carved in clean natural pine, keeping alive the artisan traditions of a snowy mountain
