Free Murder Most Unfortunate by David P Wagner

that level of detail. “The important question, Erica, is if you feel the same way about him as he feels about you. I’ve spoken to him, and the man is completely smitten. Is it reciprocal?”
    â€œThat’s the problem, Ricky, I’m not sure. He’s sweet, loving, very intelligent…what more could a woman want?”
    And he’s the head of the department, Rick thought.
    â€œAnd when I saw you this morning—”
    â€œThis isn’t about me, Erica.”
    â€œI know, I know. But somehow seeing you brought back doubts about whether I am doing the right thing.”
    I don’t need this, Rick thought. I was quite happy to have Erica out of my life, thousands of miles away on another continent. But she needs some help and I can’t just brush her off, as much as I’d like to. Too bad she doesn’t have a girlfriend to help her deal with this decision, but Erica was never one to have close girlfriends in Rome, and she likely didn’t make any close female friendships in the States. That would be the day. OK, she wants to marry the guy and be the wife of the famous scholar, but needs a push. Why not give her that push?
    â€œErica, I’ve been very impressed by Jeff.”
    â€œYou did his translation, Ricky, you know how good he is in his field.”
    â€œYes, that of course, but also he seems like a very decent guy. Personable, pleasant to be around. It’s your decision, mind you, but I don’t see why…” He couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the sentence.
    She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You’re very sweet, Ricky. I’d better get back to the hotel. Jeffrey was checking his e-mail and I said I was going to take a short walk. I didn’t tell him that—”
    â€œOf course. That wasn’t necessary.”
    He watched her leave the bridge and walk up the hill out of sight. The sound of her heels was covered by the chatter of the German tourists, but her perfume still lingered in the air. Had he done the right thing? Said the right words? Was what he said sufficiently neutral to support the decision she finally made? He sighed and looked at the buildings along the eastern side of the river, their windows lit by the afternoon sun. The ceramics museum occupied one of those palazzi that overlooked the water and he wondered if there was time to check it out before dinner. He was disappointed that the trip to Asolo hadn’t happened, but Betta wanted to return to report to her father on tailing Sarchetti. The thought of her made him smile. He was pleased that she’d immediately accepted his invitation to dinner. She should suggest a place, somewhere that Jeff and Erica would not know about.
    His phone rang and he fumbled in his jacket to find it. Not a number he knew.
    â€œMontoya.”
    â€œRiccardo, this is Angelo Rinaldi, Beppo’s uncle…Hello?
    Rick regained his voice. “Yes, sir.” He looked up at the beams in the roof of the bridge, gathering his thoughts.
    â€œBeppo called me to say that his good friend Riccardo Montoya is in Bassano, so I was calling to see if we can get together. My nephew spoke very highly of you, Riccardo.”
    â€œThat is very kind of him, and of you, Signor Rinaldi, but you must be a busy man.”
    â€œNot too busy to extend my hospitality to a friend of Beppo. I know it is late, but could you come to dinner this evening? I live not too far outside of town.”
    â€œI was going to have dinner with a friend here in—”
    â€œ Perfetto . You shall bring her along. I trust it is a young lady, Riccardo. Beppo told me you have an eye for beauty, and not just in Etruscan funerary sculpture.”
    ***
    This time they drove in Rick’s rental, an Alfa Romeo Giulietta he had picked up at the Villa Borghese rental agency in Rome. The car’s dark exterior matched the coffee color of Betta’s long skirt, with both paint and cloth