“Especially when dealing with someone like Melograno.”
“Exactly, Luca. There may have been a bribe earlier in the process, to get the loan, but if a free or cut-rate apartment for Taylor was in the works, there had to be something else.”
“Blackmail.”
“Exactly. I think when my banker friend looks deeper into the loan file, we’ll find that the investigator who checked on Melograno found something critical in the man’s background. Serious enough that if made public would have been devastating.”
“He said as much before he pulled the gun on you in the field.”
“Yes he did.” Rick leaned back in the chair. “So with Taylor dead, Melograno thinks the blackmail information cannot be exposed. And as a bonus, he can make more money from the sale of Taylor’s apartment.”
Luca nodded. “Melograno lures Taylor up to the field in Bauer’s vehicle to celebrate the deal and bludgeons him to death with a bottle of prosecco. Then he puts the body in the trunk and gets Bauer, who owed him money, to dispose of it.” The pencil had moved to his writing hand and he used it to circle the real estate ad in the newspaper. “It might have worked if those kids hadn’t strayed off the trails. The body could have been there for years.”
Rick rubbed the back of his neck, fatigue setting in. “But then Melograno started to wonder if anyone else knew his secrets, and he logically thought of Cat, and by extension me.”
“So the avalanche could well have been meant for both of you.”
Rick preferred not to think about that.
“So you’re done, Luca.”
The inspector spread his hands over the papers and files. “Not quite. I have to tie all this up for the public prosecutor.” He looked across at Rick. “And we can’t forget the attack on Pittini. Which could really have been intended for you.”
“Don’t start that again, Luca.”
“I can’t rule it out. It was likely Bauer driving the snowmobile. He very well could have been after you that night as well.”
“If so, he’s not a very good assassin with three unsuccessful tries. It’s no wonder Melograno opted to take things into his own hands.” Rick got to his feet and his eyes moved around the room. “But let’s try to solve the stabbing somewhere else, preferably where I can get a coffee.” He picked up his coat. “They really have to put a window in this room.”
Chapter Fourteen
As the glass door closed behind them, Rick and Luca removed their hats and shook off the snow which had accumulated during the walk from the station. Rick slipped off his gloves and brushed his shoulders where the snow was already melting in the warmth of the bakery. Mitzi burst through the door behind the counter, rubbing her hands on her apron.
“Ah, Inspector Albani. And Signor Montoya. You have had a busy day. What can I get for you?” Her smile was more than normal for welcoming a customer into her shop.
“Word gets around quickly, Signora,” Luca said. “A coffee for me, please. Riccardo?”
Rick nodded that he’d have the same. He moved slowly along the glass of the display case, admiring the cakes, cookies, and pastries. The glass shelves were full, and especially colorful, perhaps in preparation for the weekend visitors who would start arriving early the following afternoon.
“Shall we get something to go with the coffee, Riccardo? Perhaps some of Signora Muller’s famous almond cookies.”
Rick continued to study the gleaming case before looking up. “Huh? Oh, yes, the almond cookies. Absolutely.”
Mitzi interrupted her coffee-making to pull a small plate from a stack against the wall, centering a paper napkin on it. As the two men watched, she used plastic tongs to transfer four cookies from their stack under the glass to the plate, then placed it on the counter between the two men. From her face, they knew she was dying to say something, and she finally succumbed.
“Umberto Melograno is not a nice man, but we didn’t expect this.”
Rick had never studied German, but could recognize schadenfreude when he heard it.
He took a bite of one of the cookies and decided that Flavio was right in singing their praises. Would they get stale on the train if he decided to take some back to Rome? He turned his thoughts back to Campiglio. “Are you planning to turn the business over to your son if you win the election, Signora?”
She was taken aback by the question. So was Luca, who looked at the woman’s face as they waited for a reply. “Well, I hadn’t really thought of it. Most people haven’t given me much of a chance to win. But now, with…” She stopped in mid sentence before beginning again. “Vittorio has taken very well to working here, and in the long run I would love for him to take over. His baking skills are more than I could have hoped for with any employee. And I know he’s changed.” The last comment was directed at the policeman, a clear reference to the boy’s earlier brushes with the authorities. “And Vittorio has returned to the faith, I’m proud to say. He goes to the church every day at this time.” She pointed to the clock on the wall, as if to prove the boy’s piety.
Rick took a second cookie and drained his coffee cup.
***
The door opened silently and Rick slipped inside, crossing himself as he surveyed the cold interior. It was larger than a typical country chapel but still consisted of one main room with a semi-circular apse extended at the far end. The side walls wore a chalky white, except for a few places where the paint had been removed to reveal fragments of old decoration. Rick’s eyes were drawn to the apse. Two pairs of stone columns flanked its opening, likely recycled from some ancient Roman building. Despite the dim lighting, the colorful figures on the
