To Die in Tuscany by David P. Wagner

Author:David P. Wagner [Wagner, David P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2020-12-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

When Rick and Betta turned the corner, it was déjà vu from the previous evening. Two police cars, engines running and lights flashing, lined up in front of Bruzzone’s art gallery. A uniformed policeman at the corner kept other vehicles from entering the street, while another standing next to the police cars ordered pedestrians to stay away from the gallery door and keep moving. As they approached, Rick remembered that he had considered extending his run up this street. Could he have missed the chance to be a witness to the attempt? Betta showed her identification to the policeman outside the door, and he waved her and Rick inside.

DiMaio stood next to the display case talking on his cell phone, but the action was inside the tiny office at the back of the shop. There Bruzzone, dressed in his same business suit, was bent over in the one visitor’s chair squeezed into the space. He held a bloodstained cotton handkerchief to his forehead and stared at the floor. Behind him, between the still-cluttered desk and the wall, a policeman wearing rubber gloves worked a knife blade into a hole next to the bulletin board. DiMaio ended his conversation and slipped the phone in his pocket.

“This doesn’t look good,” Betta said.

The inspector glanced back at Bruzzone, whose chalky face contrasted with the red on the handkerchief. “No, it doesn’t. He had just come in and was sitting at his desk checking emails when someone burst into the shop, raised a pistol, and aimed it at him. He hadn’t turned on the lights in this room yet, so he didn’t get a good look at the person. When he saw the gun, he ducked down behind the desk but hit the edge and took a gash out of his forehead. The man fired just as he was ducking under the table.”

“He’s sure it was a man?”

“He’s not sure of anything, Riccardo. He thinks the guy was wearing a mask, or sunglasses, or something covering his face. What he remembers is the pistol, and how it was pointing at him, and how he instinctively ducked down. After the shot, he heard footsteps going back out and the door slamming. That’s when he called us.”

Betta looked around the room, which seemed unchanged from when she had been in the shop. Her hand lifted the hinged top of the glass case and then eased it back down. “Nothing was taken?”

“Nothing.”

“Dottoressa Innocenti, is it not?” Bruzzone had gotten to his feet and was walking toward them.. He held the cloth with his right hand. “You will excuse me for not shaking hands.” He looked at the bloodied handkerchief for a moment before pressing it back to his head.

“You may need some stitches, Signor Bruzzone. I’m sure the police will drive you to the hospital.”

“Yes, yes, there will be time for that later. When the inspector is done with me. And this gentleman? Another agent of the art police?” He noticed Rick’s cowboy boots but said nothing.

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