A Venetian Reckoning Part 13

'Why do you want to know this?' she asked.

The autopsy report said her husband had had a vasectomy.'

'How long ago?'

'I don't know. Does that make a difference?'

There was a long pause before she spoke again. 'No, I suppose it doesn't Yes, when she came to me two years ago, she thought she was pregnant She was forty-one at the time, so it was possible.'

'Was she?'

'No.'

'"Was she particularly disturbed about it?'

'At the time, I thought not, well, not more than a woman her age would be, who thought all of that was behind her. But now I suppose I have to say that, yes, she was.'

'Thank you,' Brunetti said simply. 'Is that all?' Her surprise was audible. 'Yes.'

'You aren't going to ask if I knew who the father was?'

'No. I think if you had thought it was anyone other man Trevisan, you would have told me the other day.'

She didn't answer for a moment, but when she did, she drew the first word out. 'Yes, I probably would have.'

'Good.'

'Perhaps.'

"Thank you,' Brunetti said and hung up.

Next he called Trevisan's office and attempted to arrange an appointment with Avvocato Safvatore Martucci, but he was told that Signor Martucci had gone to Milan on business and would return Commissario Brunetti's call as soon as he returned to Venice. No new papers lay on his desk, and so he contented himself with the list he had made the day before and with reflecting upon his conversation with the Judge.

Not for a moment did it occur to Brunetti to question the truth of anything Judge Beniamin had told him nor to spend any time attempting to confirm it. Given, then, Trevisan's probable involvement with the Mafia, his death began to look even more like an execution: as sudden and anonymous as a bolt of lightning. From his name, Martucci would probably turn out to be a Southerner: Brunetti warned himself against the prejudice that would carry that fact towards certain a.s.sumptions, especially should Martucci turn out to be Sicilian.

That left the daughter, Francesca, and her story of her parents' fear of kidnapping. Before he left the house that morning, Brunetti had told Chiara that the police had straightened out the kidnapping story and didn't need any more help from her. Even the most remote possibility that someone might learn of Chiara's interest in a matter that had to do with the Mafia caused Brunetti profound uneasiness, and he knew that a display of casual uninterest was the best way to dissuade her from asking more questions.

He was brought back from these thoughts by a knock at his door. 'Avanti? 'Avanti? he called and raised his eyes to see Signora Elettra pus.h.i.+ng open the door to allow a man to enter. 'Cornmissario,' she said as she came in, 'I'd like you to meet Signor Giorgio Rondini. He'd like to have a few words with you.' he called and raised his eyes to see Signora Elettra pus.h.i.+ng open the door to allow a man to enter. 'Cornmissario,' she said as she came in, 'I'd like you to meet Signor Giorgio Rondini. He'd like to have a few words with you.'

The man she ushered in towered at least a head above her, though it was unlikely that he weighed much more than she. As gaunt as the subject of an El Greco portrait, Signor Rondini added to that resemblance with a pointed dark beard and black eyes that looked out at the world from beneath thick brows.

'Please have a seat, Signor Rondini,' Brunetti said, getting to his feet. 'How may I be of service to you?'

While Rondini was lowering himself into a chair, Signorina Elettra went back to the door she had left open and paused there for a moment, She stood immobile until Brunetti glanced across at her, when she pointed a finger at the now-seated man and mouthed, as if dealing with the newly deaf, 'Gi-or-gio.' Brunetd gave her the slightest of nods and said, 'Grazie, 'Grazie, signor-ina,' as she left, closing the door behind her. signor-ina,' as she left, closing the door behind her.

For a time, neither man spoke. Rondini looked around the office, and Brunetti looked down at the list on his desk. Finally Rondini spoke: 'Commissario, I've come to ask your advice.'

'Yes, Signor Rondini?' Brunetd asked, looking up.

'It's about the conviction,' he said and stopped.

The conviction. Signer Rondini?' Brunetti asked.

'Yes, because of that day on the beach.' He gave Brunetti a small smile of encouragement, prodding Brunetti to remember something he must have known about.

'I'm sorry, Signor Rondini, but I'm not familiar with the conviction. Could you tell me something more about it?'

Rondini's smile disappeared, replaced by a pained, embarra.s.sed look.

'Elettra didn't tell you?'

'No, I'm afraid she hasn't spoken to me about it.' When Rondini's expression became even more grim at hearing this, Brunetti added, smiling, 'Other than to explain to me what a great help you've been to us, of course. It's because of your help that we've made the progress we have.' The fact that there was no real progress in the case didn't make the remark necessarily a lie, not that this would have stopped Brunetti from saying it.

When Rondini didn't say anything, Brunetti prodded him: 'Perhaps you could tell me a little bit about it, and then I can see how I can help you.'

Rondini's hands came together in his lap, the fingers of the right gently ma.s.saging those of the left 'As I said, it's about the conviction.' He looked up and Brunetti smiled, nodding his head encouragingly. 'For indecent exposure.' Brunetti's smile didn't change; Rondini seemed encouraged by that.

'You see, commissario, 1 was on the beach two summers ago, at the Alberoni.' Brunetti's smile didn't change, even at the name of the beach out at the end of the Lido so popular with gays that it had come to be known as 'Sin Beach'. The smile didn't change, but his eyes studied Rondini, and his hands, with sharpened attention.

'No, no, commissario,' Rondini said with a shake of his head, it's not me. It's my brother' He stopped and shook his head again in mingled embarra.s.sment and confusion. I'm just making it worse.' Again, he smiled, even more nervously, and sighed once. 'Let me start again.' Brunetti greeted this idea with a nod. 'My brother's a journalist. That summer he was doing an article about the beach, and he asked me to go out there with him. He thought that way we'd look like a couple and people would leave us alone. That is, leave us alone but talk to him.' Again, Rondini stopped and glanced down at his hands, now floundering about in his bp.

When he said nothing and gave no indication that he would speak again, Brunetti asked, 'Is that where it happened?' When Rondini neither looked up nor answered, Brunetti prodded. 'The incident?'

Rondini took a deep breath and started talking again. 'I went for a swim, but then it began to get cold, so I decided to change back into my clothes. My brother was way down the beach, talking to someone, and I thought I was alone. Well, there was no one within about twenty metres of the blanket. So I sat down and took off my swimming trunks, and just as I was pulling my trousers on, two policemen came up to me and told me to stand up. I tried to pull my trousers on, but one of the policemen stepped on them, so I couldn't.' As he spoke, Rondini s voice grew tighter, Brunetti couldn't tell whether with embarra.s.sment or anger.

One of Rondini's hands moved up to his chin and began to rub absently at his beard. 'So I tried to put my swimming trunks back on, but one of them picked them up and held them.' Rondini stopped.

'Then what happened, Signor Rondini?'

'I stood up.'

'And?'

'And they wrote up a summons against me, accusing me of public indecency.' 'Did you explain to them?' 'Yes.' 'And?'

They didn't believe me.'

'What about your brother? Did he come back?'

'No, it all happened in about five minutes. By the time he got back, they'd written out the summons and they were gone.'

'What did you do about it?'

'Nothing,' Rondini said and looked Brunetti in the eye. 'My brother told me not to worry, that they had to inform me if they were going to do anything about it.'

'And did they?'

'No. Or at least I never heard anything. Then, two months later, a friend called and told me he'd seen my name in that day's Gazzettino. Gazzettino. There'd been some sort of legal process, but I was never notified. No fine, nothing. I never heard anything, not until they sent me a letter saying that I'd been convicted.' There'd been some sort of legal process, but I was never notified. No fine, nothing. I never heard anything, not until they sent me a letter saying that I'd been convicted.'

Brunetti considered this for a moment, not finding it at all strange. A misdemeanour like this could very easily slip through the cracks of the justice system, and a man could find himself convicted without ever having been formally accused. What he did not understand was why Rondini was coming to him about it.

'Have you tried to get the decision changed?'

'Yes. But they told me that it was too late, that I had to do something about it before the proceedings. It wasn't a trial or anything like that' Brunetti nodded, familiar with this system of ruling on misdemeanours. 'But it means I've been convicted of a crime.'

'A misdemeanour,' Brunetti corrected him 'But still convicted,' Rondini insisted.

Brunetti tilted his head to one side and raised his eyebrows in a gesture he hoped was both sceptical and dismissive. 'I don't think you have anything to worry about, Signor Rondini.'

'I'm getting married' Rondini said, an answer that baffled Brunetti completely.

'I'm afraid I don't follow you.'

Rondini's voice grew tight as he said, 'My fiancee. I don't want her family to learn that I was convicted of indecent exposure on a h.o.m.os.e.xual beach.'

'Does she know about it?' Brunetti asked.

He saw Rondini begin to give one answer, then change it 'No. I didn't know her when it happened, and since then there's never been a time when it seemed right to tell her. Or a way. With my brother and my friends, it's just a funny story now, but I don't think she'd like it' Rondini shrugged away any uneasiness he might have with this fact and added, 'And her family would like it even less.'

'And you've come to me to see if I can do anything about it?'

'Yes. Elettra has talked about you a lot, said you were very powerful here at the Questura.' Rondini's voice was rich with deference when he said this; worse, it was equally filled with hope.

Brunetti shrugged this compliment away. 'What sort of thing did you have in mind?'

'I need two things,' Rondini began. 'I'd like you to change my record,' he began, but as soon as he saw Brunetti begin to object he added, 'I'm sure you can do something as simple as that'

'It means altering an official government doc.u.ment,' Brunetti said in a voice he hoped he managed to make sound severe.

'But Elettra says that's...' Rondini began but stopped immediately.

Brunetti was afraid of how that sentence might have ended, so he said, 'This might be something that sounds a great deal easier than it is.'

Rondini looked up at him then, his gaze bold, his objection evident but unspoken. 'May I tell you the second thing?'

'Of course.'

'I need a letter explaining that the original complaint was mistaken and that I was absolved in court. In fact, it would help if the letter apologized for my trouble.'

He was tempted to dismiss the idea as impossible, but instead Brunetti asked, 'Why do you need this?'

'For my fiancee. And for her family. If they should ever learn about it,'

'But if the record is changed, why would you need the letter?' Brunetti asked but immediately corrected himself, adding, 'If the record can be changed, that is.'

'Don't worry about the record, dottore.' Rondini spoke with such absolute authority that Brunetti was forced to recall that he worked in the computer office of SIP, and then he remembered the small rectangular box on Signorina Elettra's desk.

'And from whom should this letter come?'

'I'd like it to come from the Questore,' Rondini began but quickly added, 'but I know that's impossible.' Brunetti noticed that, at the first sign they had apparently struck a bargain and had only to haggle about the details, Rondini's hands had ceased to move and lay quiet in his lap; he seemed even to relax in his chair.

'Would a letter from a commissario suffice?'

'Yes, I think so' Rondini said.

'And what about cancelling the report in our files?'

Rondini waved a hand. 'A day. Two.'

Brunetti didn't want to know which of them, Rondini or Elettra, would do it, so he didn't ask. 'Later in the week, I'll run a check on your name and see if there's a file on you.'

"There won't be,' Rondini a.s.sured him, but there was no arrogance in the claim, nothing more than simple certainty.

'When I know that, I'll write the letter.'

Rondini got to his feet. He extended his hand across Brunetti's desk. As the two men shook hands, Rondini said, 'If I can ever do you a favour, commissario, anything at all, just remember where I work.' Brunetti saw him to the door and, when he was gone, went down to speak to Signorina Elettra.

'You spoke to him?' she asked when Brunetti went in.

Brunetti wasn't sure whether to be offended by her a.s.sumption that he would so casually discuss the altering of official state doc.u.ments and the writing of entirely fraudulent letters.

He opted for irony. 'I'm surprised you bothered to have him speak to me at all. That you didn't just take care of it all yourself?- Her smile blossomed. 'Well, of course, I thought of doing that, but I thought it would be helpful if you spoke to him.'

'Because of changing the records?' he asked.

'Oh, no, either Giorgio or I could do that in a minute,' she said in an entirely dismissive tone.

'But isn't there some sort of secret pa.s.sword that prevents people from getting into our computer?'

She hesitated a moment before she answered. 'There's a pa.s.sword, yes, but it's not very secret'

'Who knows it?'

'I've no idea, but it would be very easy to find.'

'And use?'

'Probably.'

Brunetti chose not to follow that thought. 'Then because of the letter?' he asked, a.s.suming that she would know about Rondini s request for one.

'Oh, no, dottore. I could just as easily have written that for him. But I thought it would be good for him to meet you, to show him that you're willing to help him with this.'

'In case we need more information from SIP?' he asked, irony abandoned.

'Exactly,' she said and smiled in real delight, for the commissario had begun to understand how things worked.