“Cari amici, I should be getting back inside,” said LoGuercio.
“And we must get ready for our return to Rome,” said Betta. “When will we see you there, Paolo?”
LoGuercio gave them each a warm abbraccio. “I will appear at some point when you least expect me, just as Riccardo did here in Orvieto.”
Betta and Rick walked to the square and took a final look at Maitani’s masterpiece. The tourists had tired of the activity on the side of the church and returned to their normal vocation: taking pictures. A small swarm of school children next to the right door were the only group without cameras or phones. While their teacher, a nun, talked, they stared intently at the figures carved in the stone above them. The section was another depiction of the last judgment, no doubt placed there by the sculptor as a Bible lesson for the mostly illiterate population of the time. It was a terrible scene, filled with demons, serpents, and souls writhing in agony.
“I wonder what the sister is telling those kids,” said Rick.
“She’s a nun, she’s saying what you’d expect her to say.”
“We’d better go to mass this week.”
They walked through the square toward their hotel. Another group of school kids passed them, these a bit older and led by a teacher dressed in civilian clothes. Another teacher in the rear, working like a border collie, kept the stragglers in formation. She shooed two boys who stopped to stare at the stuffed head of a boar hanging from a food store window. Rick was watching the show when he looked up to see a scowling face doing its best to avoid recognition.
“Signor Crivelli. May I introduce my friend Betta Innocenti? Or did you meet in the Duomo before all the excitement? Betta, this is Signor Amadeo Crivelli. I think you saw his work in Todi yesterday.”
Crivelli shook Betta’s hand, annoyed at being forced to show some manners. “My pleasure, Signora.” He turned to Rick. “I really must be on my way. I’m expecting a major buyer from Belgium.”
Rick put on his most sympathetic face. “Business is business, Signor Crivelli, but if you have a minute you’ll enjoy hearing this.”
Betta looked at Rick with a curious smile.
“I could certainly use something to take my mind off what went on earlier.”
“Well, it was this. I don’t understand police procedures, but I know the inspector worked tirelessly to find the perpetrator of this terrible crime. He’s been accumulating mountains of evidence.” Rick paused for effect. “He told me he uncovered something interesting, and though of course it is of no consequence now, you of all people will find it amusing.” Rick glanced at Betta.
“And, Mister Montoya, what would that be?”
“In researching the victim, Signora Van Fleet, he found an amazing similarity between the designs of her ceramic pieces, and, well, yours. Isn’t that a curious coincidence?”
Crivelli swallowed hard. A bead of moisture formed on his cheek and seeped into his white beard. “That is curious, to be sure. Must have been something I taught her those many years ago.” He attempted a nostalgic smile, the professor remembering his prize student. “I must make a point of complimenting Inspector LoGuercio for his work.” He quickly shook Betta’s hand and then Rick’s. “Well, I should be on my way, I don’t want to keep an important client waiting.”
They watched him hurry down the street.
“Rick, you could have told him you were the one who discovered the similarity.”
“It’s more fun this way.”
***
The door to the funicular opened with a pneumatic hiss and the people inside pushed through. Rick followed Betta, rolling their bags behind him, down the ramp to the station door. The temperature outside was warm enough so that they didn’t need their coats, but there wasn’t room in the suitcases, so they wore them. A few taxis stood idle in the small square, their drivers reading newspapers while they waited for fares. One looked up, but when nobody approached his car he returned to his reading. Rick and Betta crossed the square and entered the railroad station. Just inside was a coffee bar, its machines giving off their beckoning caffeine fragrance. Rick stopped before they reached the escalator to the parking lot.
“Would you like a coffee to stabilize you for the drive back?”
“No thanks, Rick, but you go ahead. I think I’ll go check out the magazines. Are you all right with both bags?”
“Leave them to me.”
Betta wandered off to the newspaper kiosk, and Rick walked to the small bar that was squeezed against one wall of the station. There must have been trains about to arrive or depart Orvieto, since at least ten people stood sipping espressos and other drinks. It was impossible to tell whether they were going to head north toward Firenze, south to Roma, or points in between such as Arezzo or Terni. Rick guessed that two young girls drinking glasses of white wine were students. A group of four men in suits listened to a fifth as he made some point that, judging by his waving arms, was extremely important. Other people were by themselves, nursing their coffees and staring at the bottles behind the bar. One of them, a large duffel bag at his feet, was Rick’s cousin.
“Taking a trip, Fabrizio?”
The lad looked up, startled. “Riccardo. I didn’t expect to see you. You must be going back to Rome.”
“I am, indeed.” Rick tipped the two suitcases upright and ordered an espresso macchiato from the man behind the bar. “This is a strange place for you to get your coffee, Cousin.” He looked down at the duffel bag. “With luggage?”
Fabrizio’s sigh came from deep in his soul. “I’m going home, Riccardo.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Why the change of heart? Certainly not from the sage advice offered by your cousin.”
“Huh? Oh, no, it wasn’t that. Something…happened.”
Rick’s coffee came, and the barman poured just a splash of hot milk into the tiny cup. “Unburden yourself, Fabrizio. It will do you wonders.” After stirring in a
