A Venetian Reckoning Part 20

Brunetti put down the phone, looked up at Vianello, and said, 'Regina Ceroni. Name mean anything to you?'

Vianello shook his head.

'She runs that travel agency over by the university: 'Do you want me to come with you, sir?' Vianello asked.

'No, I mink I'll go over before lunch and return Signora Ceroni's gla.s.ses to her.'

Brunetti stood in the late-afternoon drizzle of mid-November and looked at the sun-swept beach. A hammock stretched between two enormous palm trees, and in it lay a young woman wearing, so far as he could make out, only the bottom of her bikini. Beyond her, soft waves broke on the sandy beach, while a lapis sea stretched out to the horizon. All this could be his for a week for a there 1,800,000 lire, double occupancy, air fare included.

He pushed open the door to the agency and went in. An attractive young woman with dark hair sat at a computer. She glanced up at him and smiled pleasandy.

'Buon giorno!' he said, returning her smile. 'Is Signora Ceroni here?' he said, returning her smile. 'Is Signora Ceroni here?'

'And who may I say is calling?'

'Signor Brunetti.'

She held up a hand in a waiting gesture, pushed a few more keys, and men stood up. To her left, the printer chattered into life, and what appeared to be an airline ticket began to emerge.

'I'll tell her you're here, Signor Brunetti,' she said, turning towards the back of the office, where there was a single door, closed now. She knocked and entered without waiting. A few moments later, she came out and held the door for Brunetti, signalling him to enter.

The inner office was far smaller than the outer, but what it lacked in s.p.a.ce it more than made up for in style. The desk was, he thought, teak, polished to a gla.s.sy sheen, its absence of drawers proclaiming that it needed no excuse of utility to explain its presence. The carpet was a pale gold Isfahan silk, similar to one lying on the floor of Brunetti's father-in-law's study.

The woman who sat behind both of these had light hair pulled back on bom sides and held in place by a carved ivory comb. The simplicity of the style contrasted with both the fabric and the cut of her suit, dark-grey raw silk with heavily padded shoulders and very narrow sleeves. She appeared to be in her thirties, but because of her skill with make-up and the who sat behind both of these had light hair pulled back on bom sides and held in place by a carved ivory comb. The simplicity of the style contrasted with both the fabric and the cut of her suit, dark-grey raw silk with heavily padded shoulders and very narrow sleeves. She appeared to be in her thirties, but because of her skill with make-up and the general elegance of her bearing, it was difficult to tell which end she was closer to. She wore a pair of thick-rimmed gla.s.ses. The left lens had a small semi-circular chip in the lower corner, little wider than a pea. general elegance of her bearing, it was difficult to tell which end she was closer to. She wore a pair of thick-rimmed gla.s.ses. The left lens had a small semi-circular chip in the lower corner, little wider than a pea.

She looked up as he came in, smiled without opening her mouth, removed her gla.s.ses and placed them on the papers in front of her, but said nothing. The colour of her eyes, he noticed,, was so exactly that of her suit that it could not have been coincidental. Looking at her, Brunetti found himself thinking of the description Figaro gives of the woman with whom Count Almaviva is in love: light hair, rosy cheeks, eyes that speak.

'Si?' she asked.

'Signora Ceroni?'

'Yes.'

'I've brought you your gla.s.ses,' Brunetti said, taking them from his pocket but not looking away from her.

Her face filled with instant pleasure that made her even lovelier. 'Oh, wonderful,' she said and got to her feet. "Wherever did you find them?' Brunetti heard a slight accent, perhaps Slavic, certainly Eastern European.

Without saying anything, he pa.s.sed them across the desk to her. She accepted the leather case and set it on top of the desk without looking inside.

'Aren't you going to check that they're yours?' he asked.

'No, I recognize the case,' she said. Then, smiling again, 'But how did you know they were mine?'

'We called the opticians in the city.'

'We?' she asked. But then she remembered her manners and said, 'But please, sit down. I'm afraid I'm being very impolite.'

'Thank you,' Brunetti said and sat in one of the three chairs that stood in front of her desk.

'I'm sorry' she said, 'but Roberta didn't tell me your name.'

'Brunetti, Guido Brunetti.'

Thank you, Signor Brunetti, for going to all of this trouble. You certainly could have called me, and I would have been very glad to go and pick them up.

There's no need for you to have come all the way across the city to give them to me.'

'Across the city?' Brunetti repeated.

His question surprised her, but for only a moment. She dismissed it, and her own surprise at it, with a wave of her hand, 'Just an expression. The agency is sort of out of the way over here.'

'Yes, of course,' he said.

'I don't know how to thank you.'

'You could tell me where you lost them.'

She smiled again. 'Why, if I knew where I lost them, then they wouldn't have been lost, would they?'

Brunetti said nothing.

She gazed across the desk at him, but he said nothing. She looked down at the gla.s.ses case and pulled it towards her. She took the gla.s.ses out and, just as had Brunetti in the restaurant, wiggled one earpiece, then pulled them both sharply to the sides; again, the gla.s.ses bent but did not break.

'Remarkable, isn't it?' she asked without looking at him.

Brunetti remained silent In the same entirely casual voice, she said, 'I didn't want to get involved.'

'With us?' Bruhetti asked, a.s.suming that if she knew that he had to cross the city to get to her, then she knew where he had come from.

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'He was a married man.'

'In a few years, well be in me twenty-first century, signora.'

"What do you mean?' she asked, looking up at him in real confusion.

That married or not married hardly means much anymore.'

'It did to his wife,' she said fiercely. She folded the gla.s.ses and slipped them back into the leather case.

'Not even when he was found dead?'

'Especially not then. I didn't want there to be any suspicion that I had anything to do with it'

'Did you?'

'Commissario Brunetti,' she said, managing to surprise him by the use of his t.i.tle, 'it took me five years to become a citizen of this country and, even now, I have no doubt that my citizens.h.i.+p could very easily be taken away from me at the first moment I came to the attention of the authorities. Became of that, I want to do nothing that will bring me to their attention.'

"You're receiving our attention now.'

She pursed her lips in involuntary vexation. 'I had hoped to avoid it'

'Yet you knew you had left the gla.s.ses there?'

'I knew I lost them that day; but I hoped it was somewhere else.'

'Were you having an affair with him?'

He watched her weigh this, and then she nodded.

'How long had it gone on?'

Three years.'

'Did you have any intention of changing things?' 'I'm afraid I don't understand your question.'

'Did you have hopes of marrying him?' 'No. The situation suited me as it was.' 'And what was that situation?' 'We saw one another every few weeks.' 'And did what?'

She looked up at him sharply. 'Again, I don't understand your question.'

'What did you do when you saw him?' 'What is it lovers usually do, Dottor Brunetti?' 'They make love.'

'Very good, dottore. Yes, they make love, which is what we did.' Brunetti sensed that she was angry, but it didn't seem to him that her anger was directed at, or caused by, his questions. 'Where?' he asked.

'I beg your pardon.'

'Where did you make love?'

Her lips tightened and her answer squeezed from between them. 'In bed.'

'Where?'

Silence.

'Where was the bed? Here in Venice or in Padua?'

'In both places.'

'In an apartment or a hotel?'

Before she could answer, the phone on her desk gave a discreet buzz, and she answered it. She listened for a moment said, 'I'll give you a call this afternoon,' and hung up. The break in the rhythm of the questions had been minimal, but it had been enough to allow her to regain her composure.

'I'm sorry, Commissario, would you repeat your last question?' she asked.

He repeated it, knowing that the interruption provided by the phone call had given her enough time to think about the answer she'd given. But he wanted to hear her change it, 'I asked you where you made love.'

'Here in my apartment: 'And in Padua?'

She feigned confusion. 'What?'

'In Puma, where did you meet?'

She gave him a small smile. 'I'm afraid I misunderstood your question. We usually met here.'

'And how frequently were you able to see one another?'

Her manner warmed, as it always did just before people began to fie. 'Actually, there really wasn't very much of an affair left, but we Eked one another and were still good friends. So we saw one another for dinner every so often, either here or in Padua.'

'Do you remember the last time you were together here in Venice?'

She turned aside and considered how to answer his question. 'Why, no, I don't. I think it must have been some time during the summer.'

'Are you married, signora?' he asked 'I'm divorced,' she answered.

'Do you five alone?'

She nodded 'How did you learn of Signor Favero's death?'

'I read it in the paper, the morning after it happened.'

'And didn't call us?'

'No.'

'Even though you'd seen him the night before?'

'Especially because of that. As I explained a moment ago, I have no reason to put my trust in the authorities.'

In his worst moments, Brunetti suspected that no one did, but that was perhaps an opinion best not revealed to Signora Ceroni.

"Where do you come from originally, signora?'

'Yugoslavia. From Mostar.'

'And how long ago did you come to Italy?'

'Nine years.'

'Why did you come?'

'I came originally as a tourist, but then I found work and decided to stay.' 'In Venice?' 'Yes.'