Cold Tuscan Stone Read Free Page A

nephew, Rick was the only one in the family Piero ever talked to about his work. Rick ate it up, but his mother didn’t, worried her brother was trying to steer her only son into a police career. Much too dangerous a profession for an Italian mother to accept without a fight. When Rick dined with his uncle after moving to Rome, always at the same restaurant, the subject was inevitably the crime of the moment. Overhearing snippets of conversation, the waiters at first assumed Rick was a younger police colleague. But when the true relationship became known, they noticed how similar the two men at the corner table were. It went beyond physical traits—lanky frames, kind eyes—to their gestures, the serious way they always studied the menu, and the even more serious way they both studied any attractive woman who entered the room. When Rick wrote his weekly email to his mother he never failed to mention seeing his uncle, though without the details. She may have gotten the idea that the two met at Mass.
    â€œI don’t know, Beppo. I’d have to think about it. Do you really believe it could work?”
    â€œI sure as hell hope so, since it was my idea and I managed to sell it to my boss.” His smile was forced. “Not that my reputation within the ministero is anything you should consider before making your decision. But we must move as quickly as possible, and naturally you’ll have to get some detailed briefings here at the ministry before you drive up to Volterra. So do think about it, though please, not forever.”
    Rick was thinking, all right. What first came into his head was finally visiting Volterra. In all the years he had spent in Italy as a kid he had never been to this famous hill town in western Tuscany. Rick’s father, the New Mexican, loved to explore new places in Italy but his job at the embassy didn’t allow that much time off. And Rick’s mother, the Italian, usually insisted that those precious vacation days be used to visit her family around the peninsula. There was an aunt in Tuscany, but she lived in the south east part of the region. Volterra, in the west, was always on the “to visit” list for the Montoya family. Going undercover for the Italian government would certainly make him an unorthodox tourist. How would it work? As if reading Rick’s mind, Beppo spoke.
    â€œWe, of course, would pick up all your expenses, and would also be in contact with the police in Volterra to keep an eye on you.” Rick’s eyes widened slightly and Beppo added quickly, “We don’t expect any trouble. It is our experience that these traffickers avoid violence at all costs. It would just be a precaution.”
    Beppo stood and straightened his jacket.
    â€œHow about some lunch? I have a favorite place a few blocks away, and their specialty is Roman artichokes. It’s on me, by the way.” He reached into another drawer and pulled out a book, passing it to Rick. “This is an excellent volume on the Etruscans. Pallottino is still considered the best, and I’d like you to have it even if you decide not to take up this offer.”
    â€œThanks, Beppo.” He flipped through the pages and came to a photograph of a funerary urn like the one on the table behind him. He turned more pages and found the she wolf is the prized piece in Rome’s Capitoline Museum. Even he knew that the two figures of the infants Romulus and Remus were added in the middle ages, but that did not detract from the artistry of the Etruscan wolf.
    â€œSomething else, Rick, that hardly needs mentioning, but I must.” Rick looked up from the pages and saw that Beppo’s serious look had returned. It was becoming standard. “What I have told you here should not be shared. Except with your uncle, of course.”
    So Beppo did remember that Uncle Piero was a policeman. Or had he done a background check and found out? Probably better not to ask. Something