“She did?”
Rick stepped back, deciding that it was a good time to leave the two women alone. He walked to where LoGuercio was standing. The policeman saw Rick and finished his call while pointing at the open trunk.
“There are some dark spots which could be blood stains in Boscoli’s Toyota. It looks to have been cleaned but I’m sure we’ll find something to indicate the body was carried in it.”
Rick looked inside the vehicle and glanced back at Gina, still huddled on the bench. This was not something she needed to know.
“Thank you for talking with the American women, Riccardo. How are they coping?”
“As well as can be expected. I didn’t say that Boscoli was intending to murder them too, but I’m sure they understood the danger. I also gave them an abbreviated version of what happened here when Rhonda was a student, leaving out the most violent details but keeping to what I think are the facts. I didn’t say that she was actually part of the Red Brigades.”
“Which may well be the case. It’s likely we’ll never know the full truth.”
Rick’s eyes moved slowly from LoGuercio’s face up to the cliff path and back. “You sound like you’d prefer that the truth never come out.”
LoGuercio’s hollow eyes looked at Rick. He crushed his cigarette under his heel and glanced at his watch. “I have to get back to the Duomo. Are you coming with me?”
Rick nodded. “I want to see if Crivelli is still on the floor hiding behind the woman in the fur coat.”
***
The Piazza Duomo, as always, was filled with tourists, but they divided their attention between the famous facade and the commotion taking place on the south side of the church. The cordoned-off street was crowded with official vehicles, their flashing lights bouncing off stone and stained glass. Several policemen moved in and out of the side door while others stood around talking in low voices, smoking or staring at the church. The ambulance carrying the wounded-but-stable Morgante, with Bianca Cappello at his side, began to pull out, its siren starting a low wail. Rick, Betta, and LoGuercio stood on the long strip of grass that ran along the side of the church, watching the vehicle slow at the corner and start down the hill.
Betta turned back to LoGuercio. “When you came in you were looking for the mayor?” She was still trying to understand what had become a complicated scene inside the church.
“That’s right,” said LoGuercio. “Riccardo found the photograph so we knew he was almost certainly the one who killed Signora Van Fleet. He was supposed to be among the people getting the tour but when we got inside we couldn’t see him. I thought at first he was in the back of the group. When I said we were there to find a murderer, the last thing I expected was to have Aragona pull out his gun. We weren’t even focusing on Pazzi, but somehow assumed the two deaths were related, and that once we got the mayor, the other crime would be solved as well.”
“I know why Aragona killed Pazzi,” said Rick.
“I think I do too, Riccardo, but you tell me your theory first.”
Betta threw up her arms. “Well?”
“I saw something when we were at the villa this morning,” Rick began. “I can tell by the look on your face, Betta that you don’t see how something there could have anything to do with Aragona, but it was a bottle of wine that Francine was pouring. The label was Sonnomonte, which is Vincenzo Aragona’s vineyard. The name was churning in my head when we found the photo album and had to go rushing back to town to find the mayor. But now I realize what it was about the name that bothered me. I told you that when Pazzi lay on the ground he said to me ‘sono morto,’ but he wasn’t really saying those words, that he was dying.”
“He was saying Sonnomonte,” Betta said.
“Exactly. I’m sure Pazzi was preparing one of his exposés about Aragona’s business dealings, and getting close.” Rick turned to LoGuercio. “Remember you told me that the Guardia di Finanza had set up shop in your offices? It would not surprise me if they are investigating the same irregularities. Selling cheap wine to other countries inside high-priced bottles would be my guess. That seems to be rampant these days and I’ve read that EU authorities are clamping down.”
There was also the gap in Aragona’s police file that Uncle Piero had mentioned, likely information removed by those same Guardia di Finanza. But Rick decided to keep that information to himself since Paolo knew nothing of the Fabrizio caper. Things were complicated enough.
LoGuercio was smiling. “I reached the same conclusion, but didn’t need a wine bottle to get there. I called the Guardia when we were down at the tombs. They didn’t want to tell me what they were investigating, but when I told them we had arrested Aragona they admitted it was his wine sales. They were not happy to find that Pazzi was also onto the guy, but a wine scandal would be just the kind of story that Pazzi would be digging up. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had approached Aragona directly and tried to get some payment for keeping it out of the papers.”
“So the two murders that you were sure had to be connected were in fact totally separate.”
“Betta, thank you for pointing that out,” said LoGuercio. “But Aragona may have hoped we would want to connect the two, and by walking by at the right time, Riccardo helped.”
“Or the wrong time.” While looking in Rick’s eyes, Betta reached over to squeeze his hand. He recoiled. “Sorry, wrong hand.” she said quickly. “How long did they say the bandages will stay on?”
“As long as I can get your sympathy, I
