In the Shadow of Vesuvius by Tasha Alexander

Author:Tasha Alexander
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

1902

23

Given our past experience, we suspected Mario might not be easy to track down, so Colin left messages for him both at the excavation ticket booths and at his rooms, inviting him to meet us for dinner. This garnered a quick response. He told us to meet him at a restaurant owned by his brother, Pietro. When we arrived, he greeted us like long-lost friends, introduced us to his mother and grandmother, and ushered us to a table near the window. After asking about Kat and accepting that her injury was not serious, he refused to discuss anything further until we agreed to eschew ordering off the menu and instead let him bring us whatever he wanted, starting with a carafe of house wine. Once we had put ourselves in his hands—and he had filled our glasses—he asked how he could help.

I explained to him what I had learned from Mr. Richards, and the moment I mentioned Montana, a broad grin spread across his face.

“Oh, yes, Montana,” he said. “Signore Walker told me about this place. There, the skies are bigger than the ocean, and the weather unimaginable. He says there is snow as high as a man’s shoulder in the winter and that the wind will burn the skin right off your face.”

“Did he mention his brother?” I asked.

“No, only said that he lived there for some years before going to New York. Maybe New York is where his family was.”

“What else do you know about his time in Montana?” I asked.

“He was like some Spaniard from many centuries ago who crossed the sea to find a city with streets paved in gold. That Spaniard, he told me, conquered a whole people, but Signore Walker had nothing to show from mining. He did not speak of it much, only when we sat to have lunch in the amphitheater. I decided it was best not to tell too many tales of gladiators while we were eating, so I asked him about his life.”

“Did he tell you anything about his colleagues in New York?” Colin asked.

“No, only described the city, which to me, it sounds marvelous. Bigger than Rome.”

“Can you remember anyone else—a client, perhaps—who has mentioned Montana?” I asked.

“You are very curious about this place, Lady Emily,” Mario said.

“I think it may be the key to figuring out who killed him,” I said. “Are you absolutely certain that you did not see him when he returned to Pompeii?”

“I am. But, then, I was not working at the time. I’d gone to Naples to visit an old friend. That is why it took me so long to speak to you in the first place.”

“Can you think of anything else that might be significant?” I asked.

Mario closed his eyes, contemplative. “I cannot remember anyone else speaking of Montana, but I can tell you this. You have told me when, approximately, he died. In the weeks before then, there was a strange atmosphere in the ruins, as if nothing would be right ever again.

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