Read Online Cold Tuscan Stone by David P Wagner - Free Book Online

along the top of the wall. As he had dreaded, the wind blew even more strongly there. It tore up from the ruins after whipping trees in the distance, picking up speed through the stone columns of the Roman theater. To add to the chill a cover of black clouds had started closing off the last few rays of sunlight, though it was not quite dark enough to cause the street lights to go on. It was no surprise that no one was in sight. Anybody with a brain would be inside at this time of day, likely with a warm drink. The thought of another shot of grappa made him smile, but his mood sank to match the temperature when he saw the expression on the face of the large man standing by the wall.
    â€œI came as quickly as I could.” Canopo joined the tall, silent figure. He looked up at the man’s face, waiting for him to speak.
    The man remained silent, gazing out over the ruins below, his slight frown showing concern or distraction. A long leather coat was his only concession to the cold wind that raced along the street. Canopo decided that sheer size must keep the man from noticing the temperature, like a bear hunkered down in a frozen forest. He wore no hat. His gloveless hands were placed on the edge of the wall as if he were about to make a speech to an invisible crowd gathered below. There was no offer of a handshake, or any other acknowledgement that a shivering Canopo now stood a few feet from him.
    â€œCanopo,” he finally said. Was it a statement or a question? He continued after a pause. “ Mio caro Canopo, we’ve had a problem. The police have discovered our storage shed and confiscated everything.” Canopo tried not to show fear, but he could not prevent taking a short breath. The man continued. “So we’ve lost most of our stock. This will set us back months….Come over here so I don’t have to raise my voice.”
    Canopo scanned the empty street. “But there’s no one—”
    â€œCome here.”
    Canopo found himself standing next to the man, both of them now blankly staring at the stones far below their eyes. There was still enough light to make out the structures laid out by the Romans, those remnants that had not been carted off over the centuries. A wide arc of stone seats lay between them and a tower of Corinthian columns, all that was left of the theater’s stage. Only the outline of its semicircle was visible, cut into the side of the hill. Grass that grew among the stones was turning brown in the fall cold, matching leaves which had blown into small piles around the stage. Far off to the left a few cars were leaving a large parking area, one of several such spaces found outside the walls of what had always been and still was a pedestrian city. Canopo watched their red tail lights disappear around the distant edge of the wall.
    â€œWhat are we to think?” The man continued to focus on the stones below.
    â€œI don’t understand.” Canopo’s voice faltered.
    â€œIt seems very unlikely that the cops just stumbled on it, mio caro Canopo. And there were only a few of us who knew its location. We have no reason to suspect the other members of the organization, so it has come down to one of us.” He shifted his eyes from the stones to Canopo. “I know that I never told anyone about the shed.” He swung around, and his finger shot out to punch Canopo in the chest three times, one for each word. “That leaves you.”
    â€œI never said anything to the police or anyone else, I swear.” Despite the wintry air, he could feel himself beginning to sweat. “Why would I do it? What would be in it for me?”
    â€œMoney? You should be doing pretty well. You get a regular salary from the store, you’re paid well for our little operation, and now it seems you’re on the police payroll as well. Whatever the reasons, it doesn’t matter now.” He lifted his head and glanced quickly up and down the