Death and Judgement (29 page)

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 diminishing 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 hoarse.

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.'

‘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’

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, t
o Venice. She told me how she d
id it. And why.
’

Patta seemed uninterested in either. ‘Di
d you get a confession from her?

‘
Was i
t 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.'

'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 th
is morning
’
Patta repeated in a nasty singsong.

‘
Yes;

‘
Well, th
at
’
s not going to happen, is it?
’
Patta asked,
making no attempt to disguise hi
s
anger. 'She's been taken to Padu
a.
’

'Did she get there?" Brunetti
interrupted.

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

Brunetti nodded but d
i
dn
’
t
bother to speak.

'As I was saying," Pitta began and paused long enough to make the point that he had been interrupted, 'she wa
s taken to Padua this morn
ing. Before you bothered to get here and without her having made a confession, practice which, as I
think
you know, commissario, is essenti
al 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 passed. The phone rang and he picked it up.

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

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

'She hanged herself in her
cel
l. They brought her back here about an
hou
r ago and
pu
t her in a holding cefl while they tried to
locat
e a tape-recorder for her confession. They didn't bother to take her
thi
ngs 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
tel
l them or why did she kill
them
?' del
la
Cort
e
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 d
ecided
to
kill
them.
’

‘I
see,' Bnmetti said. "All three?
’

That's what they say"

'How many of them are there?" Brunetti asked.

The men from
S
pecial Branc
h?
’

‘
Yes.'

Three
’

'And they all say the same thing? That she killed them because she coul
dn't blackmail them any more?' ‘
Yes.'

'Did you talk to them?'

'No. I go
t all this from the guard who fo
und her.'

‘
When did they start to talk about her confession?' Brunetti asked. 'Before or after she was dead?'

‘I
don't know,' della Corte said. 'Does it matter?'

No, Brunetti realized, it didn't matter, for all three of the men from Special Branch, he was sure, would tell the same story. Adultery, blackmail, greed, and revenge: these were vices that would adequately explain what she had done. In fact, they were probably more believable than rage and horror, and the icy lust for retribution. The word of three officers of the Special Branch was hardly to be questioned.

Brunetti said, "Thank you', and put the phone down softly. He sat and searched for scraps, for any thread of evidence that would pull another person to the truth. In the face of Ceroni's confession and suicide, the only tangible evidence was the phone records for the offices of the dead men. And what of that? Calls to various legitimate businesses in a number of countries, to a seedy bar in Mestre. It was
little
more than nothing and certainly not enough to merit investigation. Mara, he was sure, was back on the streets now, probably moved to some other city. And Silvestri would tell whatever story he was ordered to tell by the people who gave him drugs. Or he could just as easily be found dead of an overdose. Brunetti still had the videotape, but to trace it back to the Trevisans would mean asking Chiara to talk about it, to remember it, and he would not do that, no matter the consequences of his refusal.