A Venetian Reckoning Part 26

'We're back in Venice,' she said.

He pulled his hands away and looked around him. The wall in front of him was the wall of the parking garage; on either side of him were parked cars.

She reached down between the seats and released her seat-belt. 'I suppose you'll want to take me to the Questura.'

When they arrived at the embarcadero, embarcadero, Brunetti saw a No. 1 just pulling away. He looked at his watch and was amazed to discover that it was after three. He hadn't called Paola, hadn't called the Questura to tell them what he was doing. Brunetti saw a No. 1 just pulling away. He looked at his watch and was amazed to discover that it was after three. He hadn't called Paola, hadn't called the Questura to tell them what he was doing.

Signora Ceroni stood in front of the boat schedule and peered at it Unable to read the list of times, she pulled out her gla.s.ses and put them on. When she had read through them, she turned to Brunetti and said, 'Not for forty minutes.'

"Would you like to walk?' he asked. It was too cold to sit in the open embarcadero, embarcadero, and at least walking would keep them warm. He knew he could call the Questura and have a boat sent to get them, but it would probably be faster to walk. and at least walking would keep them warm. He knew he could call the Questura and have a boat sent to get them, but it would probably be faster to walk.

'Yes, I would,' she answered, 'I won't get to see the city again.'

Brunetti found this melodramatic but said nothing. He turned to the right and started along the embankment. When they got to the first bridge, she said, 'Do you mind if we walk over the Rialto? I've never much liked Strada Nuova.'

Saying nothing, Brunetti continued along the embankment until they came to the bridge that led to the Tolentini and the way through the back streets of the city towards the Rialto. She walked at a moderate pace and appeared to pay no special attention to the buildings they pa.s.sed. Occasionally, Brunetti's quicker pace carried him ahead of her, but then he would stop at a corner or the foot of a bridge and wait for her. They came out beside the fish market and went down towards the Rialto. At the top, she paused for only a moment looked both to right and left at the Grand Ca.n.a.l, empty now of all boat traffic They came down off the bridge and headed through Campo San Bartolo-meo. A night.w.a.tchman went past them, leading a German shepherd on a leash, but no one spoke.

It was almost four when they got to the Questura.

When Brunetti pounded on the heavy gla.s.s door, a light came on in the guard room to the right of the door. A guard, rubbing sleep from his eyes, came out and peered through the gla.s.s. Recognizing Brunetti, he opened the door and saluted.

'Buon giomo, commissario' he said and then looked at the woman who stood beside his superior. he said and then looked at the woman who stood beside his superior.

Brunetti thanked him and asked if there was a woman officer on duty that night. When the guard said that there was not, Brunetti told him to call who-ever's name was first on the roster and tell her to come to the Questura immediately. He dismissed the guard and led Signora Ceroni across the entrance and up the stairs towards his office. The heat had been turned down, so the building was cold, the air damp. At the top of the fourth flight, Brunetti opened the door to his office and held it for her, allowing her to pa.s.s inside in front of him.

'I'd like to use the bathroom,' she said.

'Sorry. Not until a female officer gets here.'

She smiled. 'Afraid I'll kill myself, commissario?' When he didn't answer, she said, 'Believe me, I'm not the one who's going to do that'

He offered her a chair and went to stand behind his desk, looking down at its surface, shuffling through some papers. Neither of them bothered to speak during the quarter-hour it took for the officer to show up, a middle-aged woman who had been on the force for years.

When the policewoman came into his office, Brunetti looked across at Ceroni and asked, 'Would you like to make a statement? Officer Di Censo can witness it.'

Ceroni shook her head.

'Would you like to call your lawyer?'

Again, that silent negation.

Brunetti waited a moment and then turned to the policewoman, 'Officer, I'd like you to take Signora Ceroni to a cell. If she changes her mind, she may call her lawyer and her family.' He looked at Ceroni when he said this, but she shook her head again.

Turning his attention back to the policewoman, he said, 'She is to have no other contact, either with anyone in the Ouestura or with anyone outside. Do you understand?'

'Yes, sir,' Di Censo said and then asked, 'Am I to stay with her, sir?'

'Yes, until someone relieves you.' And then to Ceroni, Brunetti said, 'I'll see you later this morning, signora.'

She nodded but said nothing, stood and followed Di Censo from the office, and he listened to their heels disappearing down the stairs: the officer's steady and strong, Signora Ceroni's those same sharp clicking sounds that had led him to Piazzale Roma and then to the killer of the three men.

He wrote a short report, giving the substance of his conversation with Signora Ceroni, her refusal to call her lawyer or to give a formal confession. He left it with the officer at the door with orders for him to give it to Vice-Questore Patta or to Lieutenant Scarpa when either of them arrived at the Questura.

It was almost five when he slipped into bed beside Paola. She stirred, turned towards him, draped an arm over his face, and muttered something he couldn't understand. As he drifted off to sleep, his memory played back for him not the image of the dying woman but instead that of Chiara holding up her dog, Bark. Dumb name for a dog, he thought, and then he slept.

28.

When Brunetti woke the following morning, Paola was already gone but had left him a note saying that Chiara seemed all right and had gone off to school normally enough. Though he took some comfort in this, it was not enough to quell his abiding grief for his child's pain. He had coffee, a long shower, more coffee, but he was unable to shake off the dullness of body and spirit that lingered from the events of the night before. He remembered a time when he could spring back from sleepless nights, or from horror, with no effort, could push himself for days when in pursuit of truth or what he thought of as justice. No more. If anything, the spirit that drove him now was fiercer, but there was no denying the diminis.h.i.+ng powers of his body.

He turned away from these thoughts and left the apartment, glad of the biting air and busy streets. As he walked past a news-stand, even though he knew it was impossible, he glanced at the headlines for mention of last night's arrest.

It was almost eleven by the time he got to the Questura, where he was greeted by the usual salutes and nods, and if he was surprised that no one came up to congratulate him for having, single-handedly, brought in the killer of Trevisan, Favero and Lotto, he gave no sign of it.

On his desk he found two notes from Signorina Elettra, both telling him that the Vice-Questore wanted to speak to him. He went immediately downstairs and found Signorina Elettra at her desk.

'Is he in?'

'Yes,' she said, looking up but not smiling. 'And he's not in a good mood.'

Brunetti stopped himself from asking if Patta was ever in a good mood and, instead, asked, 'What about?'

"The transfer.'

'The what?' Brunetti asked, not really interested but always willing to delay having to speak to Patta; a few minutes with Signorina Elettra was, to date, the most pleasant way he had discovered of doing that, 'The transfer,' she repeated. 'Of that prisoner you brought in last night' She turned aside to answer her phone. 'Si?' she asked, and then, quickly, 'No, I can't' Saying nothing further, she hung up and glanced back up at Brunetd.

'What happened?' he asked quietly, wondering if Signorina Elettra could hear the pounding of his heart There was a call earlier this morning. From the Ministry of Justice, saying she belonged in Padua and they wanted her taken there.'

Brunetti leaned forward and spread bom hands on her desk, supporting his weight with them.

'Who took the call?'

'I don't know. One of the men downstairs. It happened before I got in. Then about eight, some men from Special Branch showed up with some papers.'

'And did they take her?'

'Yes. To Padua.'

Horrified, Signorina Elettra watched as Brunetti drew his hands into fists, his nails leaving eight long scratches on the polished surface of her desk.

'What's wrong, commissario?'

'Has she got there?' he asked.

'I don't know,' she said and looked down at her watch. "They've been gone three' hours, a littie more. They should be there.'

'Call them,' Brunetti said, voice hoa.r.s.e.

When she did nothing, merely stared up at him, astonished at the change, he repeated, voice louder now, 'Call them. Call della Corte.' Before she could do anything, he grabbed her phone and punched out the numbers.

Delia Corte picked it up on the third ring. 'It's Guido. Is she there?' Brunetti began with no explanation.

'Ciao, Guido? della Corte answered 'Is who where? I don't know what you're talking about.' della Corte answered 'Is who where? I don't know what you're talking about.'

'I brought in a woman last night. She killed all three of them'

'She confessed?' della Corte asked.

'Yes. All three.'

Della Corte's whisde of appreciation came down the line. 'I don't know anything about it,' he finally said. 'Why are you calling me? Where'd you arrest her?'

'Here. In Venice. But some men from Special Branch came and picked her up this morning. Someone in the Ministry of Justice sent them to get her. They said she had to be held in Padua.'

'That's nonsense,' della Corte exclaimed. 'She should be held in the place she's arrested until she's formally charged. Anyone knows that.' Then, after a pause, he asked, 'Has she been charged?'

'I don't know,' Brunetti said, 'I don't think so; there's been so little time.'

'Let me see what I can find out,' della Corte said. 'I'D call you back as soon as I know anything; What's her name?'

'Ceroli, Regina Ceroli.' Before Brunetti could say anything eke, della Corte was gone.

'What's wrong?' Signorina Elettra asked, voice deep with alarm.

'I don't know,' Brunetti said. Without another word, he turned and knocked at Patta's door. 'Avanti' 'Avanti'

Brunetti pushed open the door and walked quickly into the room. He forced himself to remain silent, hoping to get an idea of Patta's mood before he had to explain anything to the Vice-Questore.

'What's this I hear about that woman being transferred to Padua?' Patta demanded.

'I don't know anything about it. I brought her in last night. She confessed to killing all three of them: Trevisan, Favero and Lotto.'

'Where did she confess?' Patta asked, confusing Brunetti with the question.

'In her car.'

'Her car'

'I followed her to Piazzzle Roma. I spent a lot of tune with her, and then I brought her back here, to Venice. She told me how she did it. And why.'

Patta seemed uninterested in either. 'Did you get a confession from her?

'Was it witnessed?'

Brunetd shook his bead. ' 'I got back here at four, and I asked her if she wanted to call her lawyer. She didn't I asked if she wanted to make a statement, but she refused, so I had her taken to a cefl. Officer Di Censo took her down to the women's section.' got back here at four, and I asked her if she wanted to call her lawyer. She didn't I asked if she wanted to make a statement, but she refused, so I had her taken to a cefl. Officer Di Censo took her down to the women's section.'

'Without making a confession or a statement?' Patta demanded.

There was no sense in delaying. "No. I thought I'd get one this morning.'

'You thought you'd get one this morning' Patta repeated in a nasty singsong.

'Yes; 'Well, that's not going to happen, is it?' Patta asked, making no attempt to disguise his anger. 'She's been taken to Padua.'

'Did she get there?" Brunetti interrupted.

Patta cast ms eyes tiredly to one side. 'If you'd let me finish speakmg, commissario.. .'

Brunetti nodded but didn't bother to speak.

'As I was saying," Pitta began and paused long enough to make the point that he had been interrupted, 'she was taken to Padua this morning. Before you bothered to get here and without her having made a confession, practice which, as I think you know, commissario, is essential to the most routine police procedure. But she was taken to Padua, and I hope you know what that means.' Patta paused here, archly dramatic, waiting for Brunetti to admit to the full extent of his incompetence.

Then you think she's in danger?' Brunetti asked.

Patta squinted in confusion and pulled his head back. 'Danger? I don't know what you're talking about, commissario. The only danger is that Padua is going to get the credit for this arrest and for her confession. She's killed three men, two of them men of great standing in this community, and credit for her capture is now going to be given to Padua.'

"Then she's there?' Brunetti asked, voice sharp with hope.

'I have no idea where she is,' Patta began, 'and, quite frankly, I don't much care. As soon as she was taken out of our jurisdiction, she ceased to be of any interest to me. Well be able to halt our investigation of the murders - there is at least that - but all of the credit for her arrest is going to be given to Padua.' Patta's anger was raw. He reached across his desk and pulled a file towards him. 'I have nothing else to say to you, Commissario Brunetti. I'm sure you can find something with which to busy yourself? He opened the file, bent his head, and began to read.

Back in his office, Brunetti gave in to his impulse and dialled della Cortes number. No one answered. He sat He got up and walked to the window. Then he came back and sat at his desk again. Time pa.s.sed. The phone rang and he picked it up.

'Guido, did you know anything about this?' della Corte asked, voice wary.

Brunetti's hand was sfippery with sweat. He switched the phone to his other hand and wiped his palm on the leg of his trousers "What happened?'

'She hanged herself in her cell. They brought her back here about an hour ago and put her in a holding cefl while they tried to locate a tape-recorder for her confession. They didn't bother to take her things from her, and when they got hack to the cell, they found she'd used her panty-hose to hang herself from the heating vent." DeOa Corte stopped speaking, but Bru-netti said nothing.

'Guido? Are you there?"

'Yes, I'm here,' Bnmctfi finally said. 'Where are the men from Special Branch?'

They're filling out forms. She told them on the way out that she killed the three men.'

'Why?"

'Why did she tell them or why did she kill them?' della Corte asked.

'Why did she tell them?'

'She told them she'd had affairs with all of them in the past and had been blackmailing them for years. Then all three of them told her they wouldn't pay any more, so she decided to kill them.'