The boat was audible a long way off, and then it came shooting out of the Rio di Santa Giustina, blue light twirling around on the forward cabin. He turned on his flashlight and pointed it in their direction, giving them a beacon for approaching the beach. They got as close as they could, and then two policemen had to put on high waders and walk in the low water up to the island. They brought Brunetti a third pair, and he slipped them on over his shoes and trousers. He waited on the small beach while the others came, trapped there with Ruffolo, the presence of death, and the smell of rotting seaweed.
By the time they took photos of the body, removed it, and went back to the Questura to make out a full report, it was three in the morning. Brunetti was preparing to go home when Vianello came in and put a neatly typewritten sheet of paper on his desk. ‘If you’d be kind enough to sign this, sir,’ he said, ‘I’ll see that it gets where it’s supposed to go.’
Brunetti looked down at the paper and saw that it was a full report of his plan to meet Ruffolo, but it was phrased in the future tense. He looked at the top of the sheet and saw that it bore yesterday’s date and was addressed to Vice-Questore Patta.
One of the rules that Patta had introduced to the Questura when he took up his command there some years ago was one that ordered the three commissaries to have on his desk, before seven-thirty in the evening, a complete report of what they had accomplished that day and a projected idea of what they would do the following day. Since Patta was never to be seen in the Questura that late, and was certainly not to be seen before ten in the morning, it would have been an easy thing to slip it on his desk, were it not for the fact that there were only two keys to Patta’s office. He kept one on a gold key chain attached to the bottom buttonhole of the vests of the three- piece British suits he affected. The other was in the charge of Lieutenant Scarpa, a leather-faced Sicilian whom Patta had brought up with him from Palermo and who was fiercely loyal to his superior. It was Scarpa who locked the office at seven-thirty and unlocked it at eight-thirty each morning; He also checked to see what was on his superior’s desk when he unlocked the office.
‘I appreciate it, Vianello,’ Brunetti said when he read the first two paragraphs of the report, which explained in detail what he intended to do in meeting Ruffolo and why he thought it important that Patta be kept informed. He smiled tiredly and held it out without bothering to read the rest. ‘But I think there’s no way to keep him from finding out that I did this on my own, that I had no intention of telling him about it.’
Vianello didn’t move. ‘If you’d just sign the report, sir, I’ll take care of it.’
‘Vianello, what are you going to do with this?’
Ignoring the question, Vianello said, ‘He kept me on burglary for two years, didn’t he, sir? Even when I asked for a transfer.’ He tapped the back of the papers. ‘If you’ll just sign it, sir, it’ll be on his desk tomorrow morning.’
Brunetti signed the paper and handed it back to Vianello. ‘Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll tell my wife to call you if she ever locks herself out of the apartment.’
‘Nothing easier. Good night, sir.’
* * * *
25
Even though he didn’t get to sleep until after four, Brunetti still managed to arrive at the Questura at ten. He found notes on his desk telling him that the autopsy on Ruffolo was scheduled for that afternoon, that his mother had been informed of her son’s death, and that Vice-Questore Patta would like Brunetti to see him in his office when he came in.
Patta here before ten. Let angelic hosts proclaim it. When he went into Patta’s office, the Cavaliere looked up and, Brunetti blamed it on his own lack of sleep, seemed to smile at him. ‘Good morning, Brunetti. Please have a seat. You really didn’t have to get here this early, not after your exploits of last night.’ Exploits?
‘Thank you, sir. It’s nice to see you here so early.’
Patta ignored the remark and continued to smile. ‘You did very well with this Ruffolo thing. I’m glad you finally came to see it the same way I did.’
Brunetti had no idea what he was talking about, so he chose the course of greatest wisdom. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘That just about ties it up, doesn’t it? I mean, we don’t have a confession, but I think the Procuratore will see the case the way we do and believe that Ruffolo was on his way to try to make a deal. He was foolish to bring the evidence with him, but I’m sure he thought all you were going to do was talk.’
None of the paintings had been on that tiny beach; Brunetti was sure of that. But he might have had some of Signora Viscardi’s jewellery hidden somewhere on him. All Brunetti had done was check his pockets, so it was possible.
‘Where was it?’ he asked.
‘In his wallet, Brunetti. Don’t tell me you didn’t see it. It was in the list of the things he had on him when we found his body. Didn’t you stay long enough to make out the list?’
‘Sergeant Vianello took care of that, sir.’
‘I see.’ At the first sign of what was an oversight on Brunetti’s part, Patta’s mood grew even sweeter. ‘Then you didn’t see it?’
‘No, sir. I’m sorry, but I must have overlooked it. The light was very bad out there last night.’ This was beginning to make no sense. There had been no jewellery in Ruffolo’s wallet, not unless he had sold one of the pieces for twenty thousand lire.
‘The Americans are sending someone here to take a look at it today, but I don’t think there’s any doubt. Foster’s name is on it, and Rossi tells me the photo looks like him.’
‘His passport?’
Patta’s smile was broad. ‘His military identification card.’ Of course. The plastic cards that were in Ruffolo’s wallet, that he had stuffed back inside without bothering to examine. Patta continued. ‘It’s sure proof that Ruffolo was the one who killed him. The American probably made some sort of false move. Foolish thing to do when a man has a knife. And Ruffolo would have panicked, so soon out of prison.’ Patta shook his head at the rashness of
