Foreign Deceit

bodies in your back yard.” He laughed hard, a flood of emotions pouring out again. “Also, keep an eye on my mom too if you wouldn’t mind. I’ve left a note for Gary, too. But, he could be angry with me about something that happened yesterday.”

Nate furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? What happened yesterday?”

“I had to head-butt Derek in the nose. And then some.”

“Huh.” Nate’s expression was dead pan. “Okay. Yeah, that might be strange. But I’m sure he deserved it, right?”

“Yeah. He deserved it.” Wolf shook his head. “In fact, be careful around that guy.”

Nate furrowed his brow and nodded his head.

Wolf got in his truck and rolled down the window, “Thanks man. I’ll be in touch. You ever been to Italy?”

“Yeah one summer in college.”

“Any tips?”

“Ummmm, yeah, the Peroni beer is good? The pizza is good? What are you doing? Are you going to bring him back? Get all his stuff?”

“Yep.” Wolf looked out into the thinning mist. “And to find whoever killed my brother.”

Chapter 9

Wolf drove back into town from Nate’s, straight into the low morning sun on the dusty road. His breathe skipped as he thought about his next and final stop — the station.

He parked in the south station lot and went through the front entrance.

Vickie sat still behind the reception glass looking down at an open file. She raised her eyebrows over her red plastic frames and smirked. “Sergeant Wolf. You have been a naughty boy I hear.” Her voice was conspiratorial.

Wolf rolled his eyes and scanned his card to enter.

The loud chatter in the Squad Room was snuffed to silence with the clack of the door shutting behind him. Every officer in the room looked in his direction, then awkwardly to files, or computer screens, or a dirty fingernail.

Wolf stood still and scanned the room. With relief, he didn’t see Connell. He would be just fine if he didn’t see him all morning.

Sheriff Burton looked up disappointedly, then stood from his desk and looked out the window of his small office. “I don’t know what the hell happened between you two yesterday, and I don’t think I want to know. But keep yourself under control. Play nice with Derek if you see him this morning. In fact, you need to play nice for the rest of your career here, alright?”

Whether or not that was an admission that Wolf had the job, he still couldn’t tell.

Burton plopped back in the seat.

Wolf knew the Sheriff’s old bones were ready to call it quits. He didn’t need any of this so late in the game. Wolf felt a twang of shame.

Sheriff Burton held out his hands. “Well? You wanna tell me what happened?” He leaned forward on his elbows with wide eyes.

Wolf looked behind the Sheriff, out the window at the Rocky Peaks Ski Resort in the distance. He focused back on Burton, and shook his head.

Burton sat back, wheezing through his walrus mustache and crossed his legs. A faint satisfaction gleaned in his eyes. “I hope this little scuffle between you two doesn’t hurt your chances with the town council.”

“Me neither sir.” A heavy silence sat between them for a beat.

“And now you have to go?”

“I need to go over there to get John.”

Burton put his elbows back on the desk and buried his face in his hands for a second. “I was so sorry to hear about your brother son.” He had a look of deep sorrow. “If you need anything, keep in touch. I don’t see how my old ass could help, but if you need anything, just holler. I’ll try to keep you in good standing with the town council while you are gone, but…it would be much easier if you were here.”

“I know sir. But something isn’t right about his death. I don’t think my brother killed himself. Or if he did, I need to be the one who tells myself he did. Not a stranger halfway around the world. I can’t take anyone’s word on something this big.”

Burton stared back blinking. “Keep out of trouble.”

“I will. Thank you sir.”

Another pause hung between them.

Burton picked up his coffee mug, looked in it, and set it down. “I hear Sarah is back from rehabilitation. You seen her yet?”

“Yeah, saw her and Jack this morning.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye on things.” Burton grunted as he got up.

“I know sir. Thanks.”

Chapter 10 — Wednesday

Wolf was jolted awake by the ping of the seatbelt sign and a loud voice in Italian over the Boeing 777’s intercom. He was in Milan. Milano. He looked out the window and saw green fields and countless red roofed buildings. Anything tall enough to be hit by an aircraft was painted in a red and white candy cane striping.

He had absolutely no clue what to expect in Italy. While in the army, he’d been stationed in Fort Lewis, Washington, never serving any missions in Europe. His experience of foreign cultures was all much further east of the Prime Meridian — China, Vietnam, Laos, The Philippines, Australia — in a much less pedestrian manner.

He’d seen the pictures on his brother’s blog, read a few of his posts about life there, but he really didn’t have a sense of what he was getting into at all. For him, the word Italy conjured up thoughts of pizza. Spaghetti, meatballs. Calzones. Food. Mario and Luigi.

The plane came to a halt at the Malpensa International Airport gate. The air was startlingly humid, feeling about seventy five degrees Fahrenheit. His mind came up blank trying to convert it to Celsius. He knew it was nine fifths plus thirty two to convert from Celsius to Fahrenheit, but the other way around? Screw it. It was pleasant.

Looking out the terminal window past the docked planes revealed a flat landscape with a dense hazy sky. There was no view other than a copse of green deciduous trees in any direction he could see. He knew the Alps were very close by. He’d gotten a good look at the Matterhorn before the rough dive into Milan, but the Alps hid behind a veil at the moment. His mental compass was spinning wildly — Rocky Points had the Rocky Points in the west, and Denver had the towering mountains to the west — it added to his unease.

A sea of people chattered all around him in a language he had little experience with — one semester class in high school before he changed to Spanish. Everyone was using the same voice intonations along with the same hand gestures. Grandiose was the word that came to his mind.

Passing through the customs line, the officer asked him why he was in the country.

“Vacation,” he said. No sense causing any confusion.

The customs officer said something else to him, looked at him with an expectant look, then shooed him onward. Wolf couldn’t begin making an educated guess to the topic of what was said.

Signs throughout the airport were in Italian, English underneath. He strained listening to the people around him, noting not a single person speaking English in the vicinity. He thought back on the phone calls and how difficult it was to communicate with the few people he’d spoken to.