Murder Most Unfortunate Read Free

arriving.”
    â€œJacopo,” the old man said simply before taking a sip from his coffee cup. “He is not well known unless you are from this town, or study the period as the distinguished panelists at this seminar do.” Rick noticed Gaddi’s emphasis on the word distinguished . “Like any specialty, it can be arcane for the average person, even an educated person. But that is what we academics do. Most people have the idea that professors are there to make a subject understandable to their students, but they could not be more mistaken. A successful academic must make his specialty as abstruse and incomprehensible as possible, so that his expertise generates awe and sells textbooks. And he gets invited to seminars. But perhaps I have become too cynical in my later years. You have spent some time at the university, Riccardo?”
    â€œA laurea and masters in languages, in America.”
    â€œOf course, that would make sense for your profession.”
    Rick’s eggs and bacon arrived, their aroma reminding him how hungry he was. The professor wished him a buon appetito and topped off his own coffee cup from the pitcher on the table.
    â€œI was fascinated,” said Rick between bites, “by the exchange yesterday between Tibaldi and Professor Fortuna about those two missing Jacopo Bassano paintings. It got quite heated.”
    Gaddi, a frown spreading over his face, watched Rick butter his toast. After a deep breath he spoke. “The subject appears to be a painful one for our host, since he wants his museum to be the principal repository of Jacopo’s work. But of course Fortuna knew that and used it to make the poor man uncomfortable. Despite that, I found it surprising that Tibaldi lashed out, albeit briefly.”
    â€œMy guess is that Fortuna would not win a popularity contest among the participants.” Rick noticed that the topic was clearly making the older man uncomfortable. “You are returning home today, Professor?”
    â€œNot yet, I have some personal matters to deal with in Bassano.” He glanced at the table where the Milanese art dealer and the museum curator were still talking. “And there is some research on Jacopo I wanted to do in the museum archives. For a monograph I’m working on. I should be able to do everything today and leave early tomorrow.”
    â€œSeveral other participants have opted to stay on past the seminar. But Muller is driving home this afternoon, I believe, and Oglesby may be flying back to London. Professor Randolph told me at the dinner last night he’ll be staying on for a few days.”
    â€œWhich is understandable,” said Gaddi, “coming all the way from America. Randolph mentioned something about his fiancée joining him for a bit of a holiday.”
    â€œThat must be why he was in such a good mood at the dinner. I thought it was the wine.” Rick glanced around the room. “And Fortuna?”
    â€œPerhaps he skulked off under the cover of darkness.” He looked at Rick’s empty plate. “ Ha mangiato volentieri? ”
    â€œIt was just what I needed to face the morning, Professor.”
    The older man rose from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, Riccardo, I must also face the morning. If I don’t see you before you depart, it was a pleasure.” He held out his hand.
    Rick got to his feet and found that the handshake was firm despite the man’s bony fingers. He watched Gaddi walk with short steps out of the dining room, thinking about the man’s negative reaction to a mention of the missing paintings. All it had done for Rick was add to his curiosity about them. Possibly the only one of the seminar experts who would talk to him about the lost Jacopos would be Fortuna, and Rick had no desire to ask his opinion. A pompous speech would be all he’d get from the man, and he’d had to translate enough of them during the seminar. He poured himself a