Lexi poked Rick in the ribs and put her ear close to his head. He twirled his finger in an “I’ll tell you later” gesture.
“You don’t think she—”
“No, no, of course not.”
“I agree. I think it had to do with something that happened long ago.”
A few seconds passed before the manager spoke. “We’d better get back.”
Rick froze. He hadn’t thought about the two men coming back through the room where they were listening in on the conversation. Lexi apparently realized their dilemma at the same time. She pulled him roughly into the corner. A few seconds later, when Zucari and Fiore stepped through the doorway, what they saw was a couple locked in embrace. The two men chuckled to each other and kept walking into the next room, then through the door out to the portico.
Lexi reached up and rubbed her smudged lipstick from Rick’s mouth. “You can take your arms from around my waist now, Rick, they’re gone.”
“They might come back.” He breathed in her perfume and tried to place it. A bit flowery but with a certain powdery aura. One of the Chanels?
“Rick.”
“All right, all right.” He let his arms drop, but didn’t step away from her.
Nor did she from him. “We should return to the other room—Angelo may be wondering what happened to us. But first tell me what they were saying.”
“Let’s go into the next room to do that. I think it may be the famous Hall of the Giants that I read about. We shouldn’t miss it.”
As they walked through the doorway Rick told her about the conversation, recalling it as best he could. “They had to be talking about the land,” she said when he’d finished. “It sounds like she’s leaning toward selling it for development.”
“I agree, and neither of those two will be pleased when that happens.”
“And they will put two and two together and conclude that the American developer pushed her into the decision, which we know is not the case, at least from the conversations between Angelo and Livia that you and I have heard. Did Angelo ever nudge her toward that decision?”
“Not when the three of us had lunch, Lexi. They might have talked other times when you and I weren’t around, or by phone, but I don’t have the sense that your boss wanted to influence her one way or the other. I would guess the opposite.”
“I agree.” She had been concentrating on what Rick had been saying, and now she looked around the room. “This is quite a place, I can understand why it’s so famous.”
Rick read the panel that was attached to a stand in the center of the square room while Lexi craned her neck in an attempt to take it all in. The paintings recounted the mythological story of the revolt of the giants against the gods of Mount Olympus and the gods’ brutal and decisive reaction to the uprising.
The scene was one of total chaos.
Perched on a ring of clouds in the center of the round ceiling, the gods of Olympus looked down in fear and surprise. On one side, Zeus, larger than the others, was about to unleash another string of lightning bolts which had already begun to have their deadly effect on Earth. The columns, arches and walls of stone buildings on the ground had broken into huge pieces, crushing the rebellious giants whose ugly, contorted faces cried out in pain and anguish. The beautiful figures of the gods in the heavens contrasted with the brutish, deformed bodies writhing amidst the rubble on the Earth below.
Rick took his eyes from the panel and looked at the walls. “It says that at the time this work was finished, about 1535, people would surely have been reminded of the sack of Rome a decade earlier.” He moved his head slowly to take it all in. “Makes you realize that having a few wheels of cheese fall on you is not that big a deal.”
She took his elbow. “Time to get back, Rick, our boss may be wondering what’s become of us. Keep your eyes averted when we go through the cupid room.”
Rick did as he was told, and when they emerged back into the Sala dei Cavalli they found that the group had thinned out along with the amount of food on the table. He spotted Angelo talking with two men near the food table. He appeared to be understanding them, so Rick decided his interpreting wasn’t needed. Instead he whispered something to Lexi and walked to a man standing almost in the corner, holding a wineglass and staring blankly at the brown horse on the wall above him. Emilio Fiore looked up and focused on Rick’s face for a few moments before there was recognition.
“Ah, Signor Montoya. I saw you here earlier with that lovely young lady. She’s Angelo Rondini’s assistant, I’ve been told.” He chuckled and took a long pull from his wineglass.
Rick was unsure if Fiore was referring to seeing them in this room or the other one, not that it mattered. “Was it you we saw coming out of the dairy this morning, Signor Fiore?”
There was a puzzled frown, but the question finally registered. The wine was having its effect. “Oh, yes, this morning. I had just stopped in to ask Carlo something. He told me you all were going to tour the cheese-making process. You were, I trust, duly impressed?”
Rick thought for an instant that Fiore knew about the falling cheese and the question was intentionally and cleverly double-edged. If he did know, the dairy manager must have told him. Or else he was the one who tried to push over the shelves. But it wouldn’t make sense for the perpetrator to make jokes about it, even after a few glasses of wine, when it could bring suspicion on himself. But Fiore could also believe everyone had decided it was a terrible accident and nothing more, and he was not under suspicion. Or, Rick finally concluded, he was reading too much into Fiore’s words and the question was posed in total innocence.
“We were fascinated. The aging room was especially interesting.”
“Yes. As quiet as a morgue.”
A curious analogy. “Is your cheese production similar, Signor Fiore?”
“I don’t turn out as much cheese as the Rondini dairy, but we are at full capacity. If I had more pasturage I could increase it, but that doesn’t appear to be in the cards.” He checked his wineglass, realized it was getting low, and looked around for a waiter.
“Is your dairy a family business, like the Rondini’s?”
Fiore thought about the question longer than Rick expected. “Well, I own it, if that’s what you mean, but not by inheritance. Unlike with Roberto, it was not handed to me by my father. I bought it about a dozen years ago when it came on the market. Not cheap, but it was worth it to me. Anyone in your family own farm land, Signor Montoya?”
A passing waiter took Fiore’s empty glass and gave him one that was full. Rick declined the offer.
“I have an uncle in America who raises chiles. He has a few horses and chickens, but I didn’t see any cows the last time I visited him several years ago. So no cheese.”
“That is unfortunate. Cheese is one of man’s greatest creations, and transforming a simple product like milk into something so delicious is almost like performing magic. You must have felt that when you did the tour with Carlo.”
It wasn’t the only thing I felt, Rick was tempted to say. Instead, he decided to go right to the point. “Signor Fiore, I’ve heard that some people think Roberto Rondini’s death was not an accident. What is your opinion?”
The glass stopped inches from his lips and slowly lowered. “I have heard the same thing, Signor Montoya, but have no way of knowing. The police investigated it immediately after his body was found, so I assume that their conclusion was that Roberto was the victim of an accident. Unless they are still investigating, of course. Have you heard anything in that regard?” As he took a drink his eyes stayed on Rick.
“You should probably ask the local police, not an outsider like me.”
Fiore shrugged, then noticed something over Rick’s shoulder. “Your employer is looking this way, so he may be requesting your presence. Perhaps he’s heard enough stories about cheese for the evening.”
> He turned and caught Angelo’s eyes before they moved back to the people with him, which Rick took to mean that his boss approved of his conversing with Fiore. “Mr. Rondini seems to be holding his own. Tell me something, Signor Fiore. I trust you know about the acreage that lies between the Rondini dairy and the river. It does not appear to have ever been planted, or if so, it’s been many years since. Do you know why the late Roberto Rondini never did anything with it?”
Fiore took the small paper napkin in his hand and passed it roughly over his mouth. “Your employer is curious about that, I suppose. Has he ever seen a plot of land that he didn’t want to develop?”
Rick could have pointed out that Angelo had no interest in this plot, but thought it better to keep the man in doubt. He recalled the day of the funeral when they had walked through the field and someone he assumed was Fiore had been watching them from a distance.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“No, Signor Montoya I haven’t, and it is because I don’t know the answer. That piece of land was like that when I bought my farm, and my relationship with Roberto, as I told you, was not the best. I did make it known to him that I would be interested in purchasing the plot, but as a rule we didn’t share secrets. So I never found out the reason for leaving such prime real estate purely for the enjoyment of the birds and insects. It is unfortunate that you didn’t have time to ask that question of Carlo Zucari when you were touring the dairy.”
“From what you said about reaching your full capacity, I take it you could put that land to good use.”
Fiore’s mouth turned up slightly, as much a sneer as a smile. “That would be the case.”
Chapter Ten
The Mercedes pulled slowly out of its parking space and started down the path to the street. Darkness had overtaken the green area around the Palazzo Te, but invisible floodlights spread wide yellow beams along its stone sides, picking up the texture of the design.
“You enjoyed seeing the rooms, Signor Rondini?” The driver kept his eyes on the road as he made the turn onto the pavement. There were no cars on the street except those parked silently along the side.
“Yes we did, Marco,” answered Angelo. “I didn’t get into any except the horse room where the event took place, but that was very impressive. I believe Lexi and Rick saw more of the place, am I right, Lexi?”
“Yes, we did get into the other rooms. The most interesting was the one with the giants, don’t you think so, Rick?”
“I liked the cupid room, and especially the one just before the giants.” Rick glanced back at Lexi, who was staring out the window.
“The Sala dei Giganti is the most famous room,” the driver said, picking up on Lexi’s comment. “The lower figures, the giants, were done by Rinaldo Mantovano, a local artist, but Giulio Romano himself painted the gods on the ceiling and oversaw the whole work.”
“Next time we’ll take you inside, Marco, and you can explain it all.” Angelo tapped Rick on the shoulder. “I hope you were able to find out something, Language Man. I saw you talking to people. Are we closer to solving this mystery?”
“We might be,” Rick answered, thinking it wasn’t something to discuss with the driver listening. “I’ll tell you about it when we get back to the hotel.”
Angelo looked out his window but didn’t appear to be focusing on the passing building. “I had a couple invitations at the reception to have dinner later, but I told them I needed to have a business meal with my assistant. Lexi, we really have to go over those three new proposals.”
“Of course, Mr. Rondini. I’ll pull up the files on my tablet when we get to the hotel.”
Angelo leaned forward and tapped the driver’s shoulder. “Marco, you can take the night off again. We’ll go somewhere we can walk to from the hotel. I got some suggestions at the reception.”
“Yes, sir,” Marco answered, keeping his eyes on the road.
Ten minutes later Angelo, Lexi, and Rick sat around a small round table in the bar of the hotel. In front of Angelo was an empty coffee cup. Rick and Lexi sipped white wine but eschewed the small, marinated mozzarella balls the waiter had brought to the table.
“The friendship between Fiore and Zucari does seem curious, given that my cousin wasn’t on the best of terms with his neighbor. When you overheard them, the two of them must have been talking about the infamous plot of land, and the manager appears to know what Livia has decided to do with it. We talked at length this evening, but she didn’t mention that issue, not that she needs to share her business with the uncle from America. She did appear to be more upbeat, but I thought that she was just starting to come to terms with her father’s passing. Perhaps there is something else going on here. Maybe we’ll find out tomorrow when we gather at the river.” He looked at his empty espresso cup as if deciding whether to have another. “She has invited other people to the unveiling of the column tomorrow, if that’s the right word for the event. I’m glad I decided to make this gesture, it may help her to get over her grief. The more ceremonies of remembrance the better, in my experience.”
Lexi looked at Rick, and her expression told him that Angelo was referring to his own grief in the loss of his wife. He tried to remember from the bio he’d read just how long it had been.
“It doesn’t appear that this case is going to be resolved any time soon,” Angelo continued. “And we will be flying home the day after tomorrow, when the flight crew’s vacation in Verona will end. Maybe your uncle can keep an eye on the investigation, and you can let us know if anything happens.”
“Of course, Mr. Rondini.”
Angelo raised himself slowly to his feet. Fatigue lined his features. “Let’s postpone our business dinner, Lexi. I got enough to eat at the reception. I thought I was getting over the jet lag, but it seems to be hitting me again. You two go out for something.”
Rick and Lexi exchanged glances. “Of course, Mr. Rondini,” she said. “You can have something sent up to your suite if you get hungry.”
“I’ll do that.” He shuffled toward the elevator as they watched.
“I think it’s more than jet lag,” said Lexi when her boss was out of earshot. “It’s like he’s got the weight of the world on him. The only other time I saw him like this was after Mrs. Rondini passed away.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Rick spoke. “The upside is that I get to have another meal with Alexis Coleman. Did you partake too much at the reception or are you up for another restaurant meal in Mantova?”
“I could use something,” said Lexi. “Maybe a salad.” She looked at Rick. “Is there somewhere we can get a light meal?”
“Light. Heavy. Whatever you want.”
Lexi did order a salad, but it was a second course after a bowl of stracciatella, chicken broth swirled with egg and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, topped with a slice of toast. Rick convinced her that it was a simple peasant dish. The salad was fresh greens lightly coated with oil and vinegar. He explained that Italians are minimalists when it comes to salads. He, too, went with lighter fare, though if pushed, he would have ordered pasta. Minestrone was first—fresh vegetables in the same broth as Lexi’s—and for secondo, asparagus that had been cooked and then topped with Parmigiano-Reggiano and run under the broiler. Lexi’s spoon, and then her fork, had darted across the table to sample both. The dishes now were gone, as was an empty wine bottle, and they were sipping espressi while nibbling on pieces of torta sbrisolona, which the waiter said was a specialty of the city. It turned out to be something between a cookie and a cake—flat, crunchy, and flavored with almonds. It was so perfect with coffee that they ordered second cups after Rick convinced her that espresso wouldn’t keep her awake.
“I have to get some of this to take back to Chicago. It looks like it would travel well.” She picked up and quickly ate the last of the crumbled pieces, one with a whole almond.
“There
’s a bakery I passed on the way to the police station that will have it for sure. We’ll pick some up tomorrow. I’d like to take some back to Rome as well.” He took his last sip of coffee. “Italian regional cooking is always full of surprises. I’d never heard of this stuff and I doubt if I can find it in Rome. I’ll just have to come up here every few months and stock up.”
Lexi inclined her head and smiled. “You can come up with that friend of yours who’s an art historian and she can explain the paintings.”
“She really is in the States now. And married.”
“I’m sure you can find someone else to keep you company, Rick.”
“Mantova would never be the same without you, Lexi.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “And without Angelo paying for it, of course.”
She laughed, pulled her hand away, and slapped his. “You are terrible. But that reminds me who we are both working for, and that I should be getting back to the hotel to go through my e-mails. Angelo will want a complete report at breakfast. And speaking of breakfast, I must check that buffet at the hotel more carefully. Will they have torta…?”
“Sbrisolona. If they don’t, we’ll demand it.”
“It will taste good after our morning run.”
Rick rubbed his leg. “Lexi, I don’t know about that. I’m still pretty sore and shouldn’t push it.”
“First a dusting of snow stops you and now some minor discomfort in your leg? What kind of an athlete are you, Mr. Montoya?”
A Funeral in Mantova Page 17