Chapter 13 #2
I would have been quite happy for the two men to have had to walk all the way back down through the snow, but Paolo was probably right.
Up here in the mountains, people had to help each other – however obnoxious they might be.
We got out of the snowcat and crunched through the snow to the bar.
It came as no surprise to see the two bearded men sitting in the corner with beers in front of them, their faces a picture of frustration.
Paolo went over to the bar and kissed his mother before approaching the two men to offer his towing services.
I stayed at the bar and chatted to his mum.
‘Good evening. It looks as though your weather predictions were better than the TV people. You got it dead right. I understand from Paolo that the snowplough has cleared the road. I’m not sure whether you’ll be getting many clients tonight, though.’
She nodded with a resigned expression on her face.
‘It happens. To be honest, we’re just happy that the snow has finally come.
The livelihoods of a lot of people in the valley rely on snow to bring the tourists.
The snowplough has almost finished clearing the road, so we might get a few brave customers. I can hear it coming now, can’t you?’
I listened closely and managed to make out the sound of a powerful engine in the distance.
Presumably, the police would be following in the tracks of the plough.
I ordered a couple of glasses of grappa – it seemed appropriate in these conditions – and then asked her if she had heard the news from the villa.
She nodded, a shocked expression on her face.
‘Yes, Paolo called me. How sad. To be honest, I can’t say I liked the man very much, but dying like that, and at Christmas, is tragic.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the two bearded men jump to their feet and head for the door, followed by Paolo.
I called across to him to ask if he needed help, but he shook his head so I stayed put.
I had no inclination to go and talk to either of the men.
After they had left, I asked Paolo’s mum if she knew them.
‘Yes, I’m pretty sure they’re mineral hunters.
They’ve been up here a few times recently.
They’re not very communicative. They’re foreign and they don’t speak much Italian – and they certainly don’t have much in the way of good manners.
’ Clearly, her impression of the two men was no more positive than mine. I queried the terminology she had used.
‘When you say “mineral hunters”, what does that mean?’
‘We quite often get them up here. You know, they go around with hammers, breaking off pieces of rock looking for crystals or rare samples of rock. I presume you know there used to be mining in the valley? Apparently, the area’s rich in all kinds of minerals.’
‘It was an iron mine, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s right. It closed just after the war and it’s been a magnet for mineral hunters ever since. As far as I know, nobody’s ever found anything really precious like gold or silver, but some people showed me some garnets they found last summer – pretty little red stones.’
While she was talking, I heard the sound of the snowcat revving its engine, and I went over to the door to look out as the powerful machine made short work of pulling two or three tons of Dodge pickup back onto the flat and level.
At that moment, headlights appeared from the left as a truck came clanking towards us with a snowplough attachment on the front and chains on its wheels.
Behind it was the flashing blue light of a Carabinieri Land Rover.
It looked as though the road was now clear.
The two bearded men wasted no time in setting off downhill, their vehicle snaking in the snow as they accelerated away, while Paolo came back into the bar, a sour expression on his face.
‘I know a lot of people around here who would have charged them good money to pull them out of a snowdrift, but I didn’t even get a thank you from them. What a couple of ungrateful…’
I couldn’t disagree with the next couple of epithets he produced and I gave him a grin and pointed to the glasses of grappa on the bar.
‘Ah, but you have the warm glow of satisfaction that comes from knowing that you’ve helped your fellow man. Now drink this. It’ll give you another warm glow.’
The door opened and two Carabinieri officers came in.
Italy has a confusing set of law-enforcement organisations ranging from the national Polizia and the local municipal police, to the Carabinieri – originally a part of the Italian army and still run very much on those lines with military ranks, barracks and even some armoured cars.
As well as these, Italy also has specialised forces responsible for road traffic, financial affairs, frontiers and more.
I used to find it hard enough to make sense of the different departments of the Metropolitan Police, and I constantly wonder how Italian law-enforcement officers manage to get anything done with so many competing forces in play.
The two Carabinieri officers were both wearing the blue and red uniforms of the force with matching jackets and blue hats.
Paolo was obviously already familiar with the elder of the two and he gave them both a wave, turning towards his mother and holding up two fingers above our glasses as he did so.
She reached for two more glasses and the bottle.
‘Ciao, Luigi, you managed to get up the road at last.’