Luca was going to bring up the point that Muller did indeed have a motive—to eliminate the funding source for his competitor in the purchase of the property. Instead he decided to follow the thread of the man’s question. “And which people would that be?”
Muller took a few moments to answer. “I would imagine that Taylor’s private life is the issue, Inspector,” he said finally.
“Are you referring to his relationship with Mayor Grandi’s former wife?”
“If she was indeed former when—” Muller put one hand over his mouth and held up the other. “I should not make such speculation. How do they say in the court? ‘Strike that from the record?’ Yes, that’s it.”
“So you think I should be talking to Grandi.”
The shrug motion was shared by most of his small body. “Perhaps it would be better use of your time than talking with me. Or my wife.”
It would be expected that Mitzi had called her husband to complain about being questioned, even if the questioners had bought coffee. “What about Pittini’s attacker? Any new insights on who that might be?”
Muller may have been pleased to get away from talk of the murder, since his face went from derisive to thoughtful. “Well, I trust you have dropped any ideas that Gaetano was involved. He told me that he answered all your questions, so that should have satisfied any suspicions you may have had. And I can’t afford to have my only electrician in prison.” He grinned at the last comment, but Luca remained serious and quiet. “No, Inspector, I have no new ideas. You know, of course, that Pittini runs the gondola. Perhaps his attack was connected with Taylor’s death. He did fall from the gondola, didn’t he?”
Luca ignored the suggestion and rose from his seat. “I should let you get back to your meeting, Signor Muller. And I must be off to my next appointment. If you think of anything, you know where to reach me.”
Muller got to his feet. “The American, he’s not with you today? Has he left Campiglio?”
“Since he is on a ski holiday, he’s doing some skiing this afternoon.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.”
They shook hands, and Muller watched the policeman walk through the door of the hotel before scuttling to the reception desk and picking up the phone.
***
Dark clouds were forming around peaks far to the east, but too distant to be of any concern to the groups of people enjoying nearly perfect snow conditions. Among them were four skiers—one expert, two very competent, and one novice—who had just come off the lift. They stood in pairs. Rick and Cat watched as Flavio, standing close to Lori, gently pushed her body into the correct stance.
“I had a wonderful ski instructor at Vail,” Cat said in Rick’s ear. “He always just demonstrated himself the way I was supposed to lean on the skis.”
“Flavio’s a very hands-on kind of guy, Cat. He knows what he’s doing.”
“I can see that.” She looked at the sky, now starting to cloud up. “How many more runs do you think we can get in?”
“It’s slow-going with Lori, but we should manage a couple more. You don’t mind taking it easy, do you?” He looked at Cat’s expression, visible even with her goggles. “Cat?”
“We can take it easy, Rick. It’s just that I was looking forward to some real skiing.”
“The world can’t always revolve around Catherine Taylor.”
The comment did not please her. “You sound like my former husband.”
He was rescued by his telefonino. He hurriedly fumbled with gloves and pocket zippers to fish it out. “I have to take this, Cat.” He slid away from the group and opened his phone.
“Montoya.”
“Rick, this is Mark Fries. I hope I’m not interrupting something.”
Rick looked back at the group and saw that another skier had joined the trio. The man shook hands with Flavio and kissed Cat on the cheek. “No, Mark, not at all. What’s up?”
“Well, I looked into that loan, the one that Cam was working on for the real estate developer?”
The new arrival pulled up his sunglasses. It was Bruno Bauer.
“Right. Melograno.”
“Correct. The loan file showed Cam’s thoroughness, with every i dotted and every t crossed. He was an excellent banker. He even used our investigator to be sure everything was legit with this Melograno fellow.”
“Investigator?”
“Well, in addition to the standard credit checks, we occasionally look into people’s backgrounds to be sure everything is on the up and up. Don’t spread the word about that, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, Mark. Did it turn up anything?”
“Apparently not. There was only the receipt from our investigator for services rendered, so apparently everything was fine. And, in fact, the loan was approved. Cam had signed off on it early last week. So I imagine that he was planning to give the man the good news in person.”
Rick kept the phone to his ear while he closed his eyes, trying to understand the significance of the loan approval. To begin with, it shot down the scenario of Melograno going into a homicidal rage when he was told he would not get the loan. What had Taylor and Melograno talked about during their meeting in the developer’s office on Thursday? Maybe Taylor just didn’t like Melograno—no surprise there—and decided to keep him hanging for a few more days. And before he could give the man the good news, he got murdered. Rick was shaking his head when he looked over to see that Mary and John Smith had joined the group. Perhaps Gina Cortese would be the next to appear.
“But there is something else in the file that I found curious.”
Rick returned his attention to the phone call. “What’s that?”
“There’s a message slip recording that Melograno called the office on Friday. Cam was already up skiing, as you know. The man asked about the loan and Cam’s assistant told him it was approved. Shouldn’t have done that, of course, but apparently Cam didn’t leave any instructions to the contrary and—”
“So Melograno knew on
