Cold Tuscan Stone by David P. Wagner

Author:David P. Wagner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2020-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

His mother always said food tastes better when someone else cooks it. That is certainly the case with breakfast, thought Rick as he pressed the button on the hotel elevator. He could make coffee as well as the next guy, but having it placed in front of him, ready to enjoy, was considerably better than lurching about the kitchen in the morning. And a very small kitchen at that. Find the coffee, find the espresso pot, add the water, add the coffee, light the stove. And then the same routine to heat up the milk. Very complicated. It was probably why Rick usually had his morning cappuccino and cornetto at a bar on Piazza Navona. But at a hotel, with all the choices, breakfast was even better. What would be on the groaning board this morning? The elevator door opened, and he stepped into the lobby.

“Signor Montoya, you have a phone message.” Rick detoured to the desk as the woman reached into his key box and took out a piece of paper. “The man just called. I put it through to your room, but you must have been in the elevator.”

The call was from Dr. Zerbino of the Etruscan museum, the note said, and he was inviting Rick to coffee later that morning. To offer me some stolen funerary urns, he guessed with amusement. He used the house phone to call the museum and recognized the voice of the secretary who had rescued the curator from Rick’s clutches the previous day. She knew about Zerbino’s message. Yes, could Signor Montoya possibly meet Dr. Zerbino for coffee later that morning? Excellent. Time and place were confirmed. All very efficient, but with no mention of hot Etruscan artifacts. Rick chose a newspaper from the stack on the desk and resumed his path to the hotel dining room where thick black coffee and a pitcher of hot milk arrived a moment after he was seated without his asking. Good memory—she would get an extra tip today.

He skimmed the paper while waiting for his caffè latte to cool. The death of Canopo had moved from the first page to the cronica section, where such stories were normally found. There did not appear to be anything new, which didn’t keep the reporter from speculating, using the contorted “could have” and “would have” verb tenses that were so popular in Italian journalism. Fortunately, there was no mention this day of the unnamed American art dealer.

Rick stirred his coffee and looked at the newspaper without seeing the words. One side of him wanted to push Canopo’s death from his mind, but the genes he shared with his uncle would not allow it. Conti had told him little about the case, other than the forensic report and his being convinced that it was murder. Nothing about suspects, other than the mysterious man on the street to whom Rick unfortunately had paid little attention. Perhaps Conti would share more about the murder when he next saw him, but until then, Rick decided, he should be keeping his focus on Etruscan loot.

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