Read Online Murder Most Unfortunate by David P Wagner - Free Book Online Page B

raining, nor did the sky threaten any showers, but all the women wore raincoats. They had been told to expect rain, so why pack more than one overcoat? The wood beams of the bridge roof formed the top frame of the photograph, but the mountains were still visible in the distance. Nice photo, Rick thought as he watched the group. It will take a place of honor over their fireplaces in Frieburg or wherever they’re from.
    Rick thought how pleasantly quaint it was that the guide was using a real camera, rather than a cell phone, to take the picture. He checked his own cell phone for time and messages before slipping it back into his coat. If she didn’t show up in another five minutes, he’d gladly be on his way. No, relieved to be on his way. He’d sensed that the urgency of Erica’s whispered plea had nothing to do with the two issues that concerned him most at the moment: the murder and the missing paintings. Of course she was engaged to one of the suspects, who gave a vague answer to the question about where he was the previous afternoon. Now that would be something if she had some incriminating information about Randolph. No, that’s not going to happen.
    â€œRicky!”
    Erica walked briskly toward him, her long coat flapping open to show the same tight jeans she’d worn in the morning. He watched her approach, trying to decipher the look on her face. Agitation for sure, but what else could he read from it? When she reached him she stopped and took a deep breath before taking his arm and stepping to the wooden railing. They looked down at the water before she spoke again.
    â€œThank you for meeting me, Ricky. I don’t know what to do, and when I saw you it was like being tossed a lifeline.”
    She spoke in Italian, as they always had. Her voice was steady but tense. It wasn’t the voice of an angry Erica; he knew that one well. Something in the way she spoke made him less annoyed, more forgiving. Of course there had been no “How are you, Ricky, how is your business doing, how’s your uncle,” anything like that. But it was Erica, after all.
    â€œTell me what’s wrong. Perhaps I can help.”
    â€œThat’s just it, I don’t know if anything’s wrong. I think I’m happy, who wouldn’t be? Jeffrey is a wonderful man, I should be the happiest woman in the world, but somehow…”
    A long branch dislodged itself from one of the pontoons below them and pushed its way back into the main flow of the river. They watched it catch in the current and disappear into the distance. Her comments confirmed that this was not about murder or lost paintings. As he should have suspected, it was about Erica.
    â€œStart at the beginning.” He used his best Dr. Phil manner. “How did you meet Jeff?”
    â€œHe was—well, still is—the head of the department. When I arrived to start the lectureship he took me under his wing, made sure I was introduced to the rest of the faculty, made me feel at home. I didn’t think much of it at first. I assumed that it was the way any department head in America would welcome a new member of the faculty. Of course his reputation in the art scholarship community was well known to me, it was one of the reasons I applied for the position.” For the first time since they’d been standing at the rail she turned and looked at him. “He’s one of the top scholars in our field, Ricky.”
    â€œGo on.” He was already forming his opinion of the problem.
    â€œJeffrey had been divorced for about a year when I arrived, and when he was helping me get settled we spent a lot of time together, and we became friends as well as colleagues.”
    â€œAnd then it became more than just friendship.”
    She was back to watching the river. “Yes. But not in the way you might think, Ricky. Jeffrey is very…let’s say formal, even old-fashioned.”
    Rick didn’t want to know