Corviglia: A Murder in the Alps

By Alan Wallach

The crown prince of Iran has been kidnapped on the ski slopes of St. Moritz and a young girl has been murdered. Henry Cain, a detective living in St. Moritz has to find the prince, hidden high in the mountains, and bring him back alive to the Shah to earn a huge payout. And then to find the murderer, a promise he made to the girl's mother. Years later, the murderer, having escaped, seeks revenge endangering Henry and his family. Confronted face to face by the furious killer, Henry is moments from death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Wallach
• Release date: Dec 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9780990672388

Alan Wallach

Alan Wallach was born and raised in Brooklyn. He has a degree in chemistry. After a tour in the US Air Force as a meteorologist, he went to work for IBM as a programmer and back to school for graduate study in mathematics. He has been associated with computers for most of his business life in one form or another from programming to consulting, training, sales, management and ownership. He has been a technical writer, and for almost 15 years wrote a computer column for the Sunday Berkshire Eagle in Pittsfield MA. In the early nineties, his Plain English Guide to Your PC was published and and right before the milennium, The Year 2000 Hoax was released, a book which debunked the doomsayers prediction of an economic collapse because of the Y2K bug.Alan is an accomplished classical pianist and considers music his first love. He is a basketball nut and still plays often in the early morning hours with a similar minded group of nuts.He and his wife have recently moved from the Berkshires in Massachusetts to New Jersey, in full view of the Manhattan skyline. He is now a full time writer working on a new novel and continuing his Kieran series of books for young readers.

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Corviglia

A Murder in the Alps

An Alpine Mystery Novel

by Alan Wallach

Copyright by Alan Wallach 2013

Published by Interlaken Publishing Co.

725 River Rd., Suite 32-150 Edgewater, NJ 07020

Distributed by Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

The people and names in this book are fictional. Any similarity to real names and events is strictly coincidental.

Dedicated to the underprivileged jet-setters of St. Moritz

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Postface

About the Author

Other Books by This Author

Prologue

As Henry Cain settled his wiry six foot seven inch frame into the chair behind his desk, his secretary buzzed the intercom.

There is a Mr. Schmalzl on the telephone, Mr. Cain. He wouldn't say what he wanted. Just that he had to talk to you rather urgently. Her American accent always amazed him. She was pure bred Italian and had never been to the States. Her father was an engineer in the middle east and she went to an American school in Saudi Arabia for several years as a child. She sounded as if she had been born in Kansas or Nebraska. Every once in a while the cultural gap would remind him she wasn't American. He once mentioned that candy used to cost a nickel. Her response of What's a nickel? gave him a good laugh. He told the story often.

I'll take it. Thanks, Agnese. Hello Mr. Schmalzl. I haven't seen you since you retired. How have you been?

Fine, Mr. Cain. Just fine. I hope you are well. I have some news for you which, I'm afraid, is not good.

What is it?

Henry listened intently for several minutes. Shit, he mumbled under his breath but loud enough for his son Larry to hear. He stuck his head in the door and started to speak but stopped himself when he saw his father was on the phone. Instead he walked in and sat down. He was not quite as tall as Henry but he was more massive. Both he and his brother David were avid body builders. Larry had been in the business with his father for two years, but already he was indispensable. His brother was following a career as a musician and struggling. Both his sons were musicians, but Larry was content to do it for love.

When? Thanks Mr. Schmalzl. Have you notified the prince? He waited. Fine. No that won't be necessary. But if you hear anything that you think I should know, I would appreciate a call. Thanks, again. Larry got a knot in his stomach as he watched Henry open the bottom drawer of his desk and pull out the Beretta automatic that he hadn't seen in years. Henry cocked the barrel, snapped it back, pulled a clip out of the drawer and snapped it into the handle."

As Larry opened his mouth to speak, the buzzer rang again. Who is it now, Agnese?

He would only say that he was an Iranian friend of yours and it was important.

Put him through, please. Henry waited. How are you, Your Highness? Henry listened intently. No, I'm a little concerned, but I wouldn't call it worried. I don't think so. I certainly appreciate the offer but I think I can handle it. No, I don't underestimate him, don't worry. He listened for almost a minute. Really, I think you're exaggerating the danger. All right, if you insist. At least for a little while until we see if it's a problem. Thanks again, I appreciate it. You don't owe me anything. OK, I know better than to try to convince you. Take care, Your Highness. Yes, I know your phone number. Bye."

What the hell was that all about, Pop, Larry asked. "What's with the gun?

It's a long story, Larry. It's a story I knew wasn't over, yet. I just thought it would be a few more years before I had to deal with it. There's too much to tell and I have work to do.

Come on Pop. You've got me curious and worried - both.

Not now, Larry. There's nothing to worry about.

Sure, sure. So why the gun? Come on.

Henry looked at his watch, then up at Larry. I'll try to make it short.

Take your time. Larry pushed the button on the intercom. Agnese, don't interrupt us for a while unless my mother calls. OK, I'm listening. What's going on?

Please don't tell your mother about any of this. There's no need for her to worry until I'm sure there's something to worry about.

OK, OK, he said impatiently. Let's hear it.

Henry took off his sunglasses. Larry was used to seeing the disfigured eye socket where his right eye once was. Henry reached into his pocket and pulled out a black eye patch and put it around his head. His hair was still full and brown with very little gray in it. He wasn't much over his playing weight so he didn't show his years. This story goes back about sixteen years, to 1974 before the Ayatollah Khomeini and the Islamic republic. The Shah, who was still Shah then, had a house in St. Moritz. His wife and children were there often. Occasionally, he spent some time there too, mostly when he wanted to entertain guests, fellow royalty, like King Hussein. This was before King Hussein married Lisa Halaby. This particular time, the Shah was there with the whole family.

Larry sat back fascinated. He could tell from how his father was starting that he wanted to talk. This was going to be a long afternoon.

Chapter One

It was afternoon on a chilly May Sunday. A heavy rain shower had passed and it felt later than it was because of the darkness. But the weather was clearing. As Henry and Gaby watched, all but two figures left the grave. One, a tall beautiful woman, lingered adjusting the roses on the gravestone. Funerals always seemed surrealistic to Henry. This one was no different, roses fresh and red, full of life, petals vibrating in the spring breeze, lying there on the inert grave. The beauty of nature and life punctuated by the sterility of the stone. The other figure, a little girl about two years old, alternately walked and ran through the rows of irregular gravestones untouched by the symbolism, improvising a playground for herself.

Gaby stood where she was as Henry walked up to the grave. The tall woman went to get the little girl. Squatting down, Henry brushed away a detached petal. He looked at the grave and could feel the sadness in himself. The sun was getting lost behind a cloud. He could see the Zürich skyline and the sky above it was filled with a rainbow. The ground sloshed under his feet, muddy from the recent rain. Tears began to roll down his face as he remembered the last months. Then, as suddenly as they started, they stopped. Henry stared at the simple stone.

Judi, I'm sorry. he thought. He wanted to say it out loud but didn't want to seem silly. He continued staring at the stone and as he felt the lump in his throat returning, he fought the feeling and walked quickly back to Gaby.

Let's say goodbye to Mrs. Harschberger.

Gaby said nothing but walked along with Henry. He extended his hand to the woman.

Goodbye, Frau Harschberger. You have my telephone number. Please call me if there's anything I can do. In the states they would be on a first name basis. In Europe, even though they were contemporaries, it was unlikely that they would ever be anything but Frau and Mr. to each other.

Thank you, Mr. Cain. Her eyes showed that she had been crying. That's kind of you. Right now all I need is time. But please, don't forget about the notebook.

I won't. But you haven't told me why I should read it. What's in it? Henry's voice trailed off as he saw the pain in Mrs. Harschberger's eyes.

Just read it. If not for me, read it for Judi. Her face turned into a faint smile and she closed her two hands around Henry's hand then let it go and turned to Gaby. Gaby kissed her on both cheeks and said a few words in Swiss-German dialect before taking Henry's arm.

What are you going to do now, Gaby?

I have to go back to St. Moritz. I have to work. My boss only gave me this day for the funeral. Would you mind taking me to the train station in Zürich?

Of course not, come on. Her arm was still hooked in his as they walked toward the gate.

The drive to Zürich was quiet. Gaby was Judi's roommate and friend for a long time. Although she wanted to talk, she was not very comfortable in English and still in a state of disbelief about Judi's death. Henry knew it and tried to carry the conversation but found that he didn't have much to say either. The ride into Zürich seemed endless. He stopped the car in front of the Zürich bahnhof and turned to Gaby.

Will you be coming back to St. Moritz? She looked directly into his eyes.

Certainly. It's still very much a part of my life. Why, what did you think?

I just thought that with all that has happened...

Henry filled the pause. I couldn't stay away for long. It's been too much a part of my life. He shook his head. I'll see you soon.

Gaby smiled, looking pleased. I better go now. Until we see each other. She translated directly from German and shook his hand briskly. It was a European characteristic that always amused Henry - the firm, manly handshake of a woman.

Ciao, Gaby. Henry waved and smiled as the car crept away. Phyllis would be expecting him tonight in Milan, and she always worried when he was driving after dark.

Gaby walked briskly into the station. She opened her pocketbook as she walked and fished out a key as she reached the bank of lockers. She opened one of the lockers and took out a small red suitcase. The door spring slammed the locker shut as she walked to the ticket counter.

One way, second class to St. Moritz, please. She put a fifty franc note into the revolving tray and looked up at the ticket seller. When is the next train?

5:20 on track six. He put her change into the tray and rotated it toward her.

She looked at the big clock and walked over to the newsstand. Taking the top Blick newspaper from the stack, she paid for it with the change that was in her hand and walked to the train. She got on at the second car.

The tall blond man watched her from a distance. When she got on, he followed her movement through the window of the train until he saw her in a compartment. She put her valise on the rack above and sat down. When he was sure she wouldn't be moving again, he walked toward the back of the train and got on.

******

The ride to Milan was a long and lonely one for Henry. He was so engrossed in the rehash of the past few months that it seemed like he had just been dreaming and awoke suddenly as the car pulled into the train station at Gotthard. He bought a ticket and followed the car in front of him up onto the flat bed of the train. He wondered if the tunnel would ever be finished. He had not driven through the St. Gotthard pass for several years. He often had intentions of doing it, but when the time came, the car always seemed to wind up at the train station. He knew that when the tunnel was finished, the memory of the train rides would rapidly deteriorate to a blur and occasions to drive the pass would disappear altogether. Things change, he thought, but not as fast as in the U.S.

He could see the Arco della Pace so Henry knew he was only five minutes from home. He turned into the driveway entrance and got out of the car. He put his key into the switch and the huge iron gate folded open like an accordion. He drove into the courtyard. He looked up and could see the lights in the den. As he drove down the ramp to the garage level, he reminded himself to turn off the car radio. He often left the radio on and found the battery dead the next morning. He stopped in front of the garage door, got out of the car again and opened it.

He could hear the piano resonating with Chopin even over the elevator motor. He was always amazed at the tone she got from that little upright piano in their apartment. He walked into the apartment and the piano stopped. He heard the little voice coming from the children's bedroom.

Daddy, is that you?

"Yes, it's me, David. I'll be in in a few minutes.

Phyllis came out and smiled, Glad you're home. She kissed Henry passionately, wrapping her leg around his. She was tall by ordinary standards. But Henry towered over her anyway. She always wrapped herself around him when she felt she had to fight for him. Even though he knew it was partly an act, he could feel his groin throb as he responded first then gently pushed her off. After fifteen years and several major crises in their marriage, he loved her more romantically than ever. She was beautiful and at thirty five didn't look more than twenty five, with her brown hair long with bangs falling over her forehead. She had decided to let her hair grow out to its natural brown color. After so many years of making it blonde, she had forgotten what the real color was.

Are you hungry?

Not really, but I could use a cup of coffee. You sound great. Practicing?

Regular or decaffeinated? She ignored the compliment and the question."

It doesn't matter, nothing could keep me awake tonight.

How was the funeral? She was not quite sure how to bring up the subject.

Marvelous, he said sarcastically, then added, Really tragic. It was difficult to keep from breaking down.

Did she really mean that much to you? Phyllis didn't really want to hear the answer, expecting the worst.

No. Henry surprised her. I told you already. We had a thing going for a while, but it turned to affection at the end and I wanted her to make it. I didn't love her. But, shit. His voice got stronger. She was only a kid and she's dead. Maybe it's my fault.

Your fault? Phyllis was surprised again.

Let's forget it, Hon. I'm tired. He drifted out of the kitchen unbuttoning his shirt cuffs.

Phyllis knew not to push him. But she wanted to know. She remembered Judi as a woman would, even though she had met her only once. She wondered if there were things Henry wasn't telling her. She pushed these thoughts aside and set the coffee down on the table.

Coffee is ready. Come on.

Henry turned off the water in the bathroom, dried his hands and looked in the mirror. He saw himself differently since that day in March that he met Judi. `Met' is the wrong word, he thought. He turned off the daydream - it was easier now that he was home - walked into the kitchen and sat down.

How was the weather in the pass? She tried to change his mood.

I didn't even try to drive it. I took the train. Otherwise the weather was good. Sun until Lugano. He sipped the hot coffee noisily. It burned his tongue. No more pain, he thought. It was over, all of it - Judi, his past, he had to start over. He used to have a lot of interests. After fifteen years, everything except detective work was a fuzzy memory. He wasn't sure he could pull it off.

Did you talk to Rudy? Phyllis interrupted his reverie.

Of course. I said I would.

Well?

Well, what? He smiled.

What happened? Sometimes you are such a bastard.

Henry laughed. "We worked out a pretty good arrangement. You knew I would, so why am I a bastard?

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her neck and then her breast.

Phyllis looked at him and said nothing at first. Then she asked quietly, Is it settled then?

I think so. I had to. You know I want out. How could I not arrange something?

I wasn't sure. I wasn't really sure. It's not the first time you tried to get out.

It's over, the whole thing is over. Fifteen years of fear, pain and all that bullshit. It's over We have a lot of living to do. I want it as much as you do. It's not going to be easy. I don't know if Rudy's deal is really for me but it's a start. Besides, with the money we have now, the pressure won't be so great.

Phyllis broke into tears. I love you, Henry, so much.

He kissed her again. No crying. He kissed the tears under her eyes, first one, then the other. Let's go to bed. I'm exhausted.

Phyllis and Henry Cain went to look in on their two sons. David was on the top of the double decker curled in a fetal position facing out. Larry, two years younger, was below, face down, as was usual for him. After each kissed each sleeping child, they went to bed.

******

The phone rang. Henry awoke with a start.

Hello. His voice creaked.

Hi. I took the kids to school. They waited for you to get up but we couldn't wait any more. I wouldn't let them wake you. I have some shopping to do, then I have to pick up the kids. They only have a half day today. I should be home about 1:30. Can you handle breakfast by yourself?

I'll go to the bar and have a cappuccino. That's all my stomach can handle this morning.

Henry. She stopped.

What is it, Hon? What's wrong?

I love you.

Me too. See you later.

Ciao.

Henry got out of bed. He was wide awake now and felt up as he stepped into the shower.

He put on his pants and a turtleneck sweater, walked into the den and dialed the phone. Herr Nachtmann, bitte. Hier spricht Henry Cain aus Mailand.

Ein moment, bitte.

Henry, how are you? I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. What's up?

I'm anxious to get started. I going to see a friend tomorrow who has some office space to sublet. If it's all right and the price is OK, it will make things easier. In any case, all I need is a few days to clean up some loose ends. I'll be ready to give it full time some time next week.

That's terrific. We should get together again to set the time table and talk about which products might be of interest to you? Rudy's answer demonstrated his flawless English grammar on top of a heavy Swiss-German accent.

Probably the end of next week. I'll call you. Will you be in?

Next week is fine. The week after, I'm going sailing with the family. So if you can't make it next week, it will have to wait until I get back. There was a pause than Rudy added, No doubts, Henry?"

No doubts about leaving the detective business. Throwing in my hat with you, that's another thing. Henry laughed. Every time I think of being a human being, I get an erection.

Don't jump to conclusions - about being a human being, I mean.

Rudy, are you trying to scare me? You know I'm the Sean Connery type.

No, Henry. I know I couldn't do that. Rudy sounded serious. I just want to be sure that the investment I'm going to make has a reasonable chance. I know you long enough to know that it can work out very well for both of us if you're really committing yourself.

"Don't worry Rudy. I have to make a success of this or I'll drift back. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll make a horse race out of it. Marty's a blackmailer by instinct. If there's any wavering on my part he'll get me back. Don't forget, I was a pretty good money maker for