The patrolman glanced at Tullio Legna, who stalked out of the room. Dario followed. Left alone, Zen wandered over to the window, collecting his thoughts for the coming performance. He had no doubts about the course he was taking. The encounter with Carla, and its unexpected but wholly logical conclusion, seemed to have clarified his mind like a breeze carrying off mist. He had been sleepwalking for too long. Now he was awake once more, responsible for his actions, and confident about the result.
Nevertheless, despite the bravado with which he had answered Tullio Legna, he was well aware that it could all go very wrong. He felt like a sculptor confronting a block of expensive marble, sheer to all appearances but with a slight internal flaw. If he selected an instrument of the correct size and shape, and applied it with precisely the proper force at exactly the right place, the whole mass would open up and reveal its inner essence to him, and he could finish his work with ease. But if he miscalculated, he would be left with a botched lump of masonry which no amount of subsequent labour could ever repair.
He turned round expectantly as the door opened, but it was only Nanni Morino, shuffling in with his notepad and a sheepish expression.
‘Ah, it’s you!’ Zen remarked coldly. ‘I gather you’ve been ratting on me to the chief.’
‘I was just keeping him informed about developments in the case,’ Morino replied with righteous embarrassment. ‘He has a right to know what’s going on in the section under his command.’
‘That’s all right. In your position, I’d probably have done the same. There’s no reason why you should risk your own career just to follow me.’
‘On the contrary, dottore,’ Morino protested, as Dario ushered in the Faigano brothers, ‘I’d follow you anywhere!’
In a barely audible undertone, he added, ‘If only out of morbid curiosity.’
‘Ah, there you are!’ Aurelio Zen exclaimed, going round the desk to greet the new arrivals, his right hand held out. With expressions of mild bemusement, both brothers automatically responded. Maurizio’s hand was given a perfunctory shake, but Zen grasped Gianni’s and brought it up to his face for closer examination.
‘One of your nails is missing,’ he observed.
Gianni snatched his hand away.
‘So?’
‘How did it happen?’
‘Working the land isn’t a desk job,’ Gianni returned with a touch of contempt.
‘Do you remember the occasion?’
Gianni looked at his brother, frowning.
‘It was when we were bottling last year’s wine,’ Maurizio prompted. ‘Don’t you remember?’
‘Oh, that’s right! I’d forgotten.’
‘It’s common enough round here,’ Maurizio explained. ‘And that’s not counting the ones from the war. The Fascists used to specialize in that, when they ran out of more inventive ideas. They used to do it properly, with pliers. And slowly. Half the men round here are still missing a few. Once the roots get ripped out, the nail never grows back.’
He glanced keenly at Zen, as though suddenly recalling the situation.
‘But why are you asking about this?’
For a moment, Aurelio Zen looked puzzled. Then he waved at Nanni Morino, who was assiduously noting all this down.
‘Just “morbid curiosity”, to quote my colleague. I’ll only need to keep you a moment, and then Dario will take you downstairs and do the necessary for your release.’
The brothers glanced at each other.
‘Release?’ queried Gianni.
‘Yes, it’s all over. Once I got the confession, of course…’
‘Minot has confessed?’
Zen nodded briskly.
‘And that’s why I need your help. It was off the record, you see. No lawyers present, no witnesses, no notes taken. The cunning bastard waited until everyone else had left, and then confessed to the whole thing!’
Zen burst into laughter.
‘I’ve never seen anything quite like it!’ he exclaimed in a tone of aggrieved admiration. ‘This Minot is certainly quite a character. He even told me why he’d done it, but as a challenge. “Now try and prove it!” he said. “You won’t be able to. There isn’t a scrap of evidence. You’ll never be able to take me to court, much less get a conviction.”’
Gianni Faigano nodded sourly.
‘That sounds like Minot all right. But where do we come in?’
‘Because I accept his challenge, and to win I need some background information.’
‘About what?’ asked Maurizio.
Zen gave a declamatory sigh.
‘When I searched your house yesterday, following your arrest, I noticed an old photograph on display. It was a portrait of Chiara Cravioli, later Signora Vincenzo.’
The silence which followed had a new quality, like a fresh sheet of sandpaper replacing one worn smooth.
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ snapped Gianni.
‘Well, you see, Minot claims that she’s the reason he murdered Aldo.’
‘That’s absurd! He didn’t even know Chiara!’
Zen gestured for calm.
‘One thing at a time, Signor Faigano, if you please. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I’m telling the story back to front. It’s been a long night for all of us, and I’m getting confused. Let’s begin at the beginning.’
He sat down, looking over some notes scribbled hastily on the back of various envelopes and departmental circulars.
‘Yes, here we are. According to Minot, he and this Chiara Cravioli were lovers long ago…’
Gianni Faigano took a step forward.
‘That’s bullshit!’
‘Oh!’ called Dario from the door.
His weapon was cocked and levelled. Maurizio gripped his brother’s arm and drew him back to his place.
‘As I was saying,’ Zen continued in the same bored tone, ‘Minot claims that he and Chiara used to be lovers. In itself, this is of no particular interest. But he also claims that the relationship did not cease once la Cravioli married Aldo Vincenzo. In fact, he went on to say, Manlio Vincenzo is not Aldo’s son at all, but the fruit of Minot’s loins.’
Gianni Faigano stepped forward again, unable to control himself.
‘That’s a damned lie! A filthy blasphemy!’
Zen gestured helplessly, as though to apologize for an unintentional gaffe.
‘I’m only telling you what Minot said. And the reason I’m mentioning it is in the hope that you might be able to corroborate his story. It would give me a motive, you see, which is the one thing I don’t have at present. Once I’ve got that, I’ll call a lawyer and formally charge Minot with murder.’
He got to his feet, shaking his head.
‘But first I need a credible reason for him to have killed Aldo. If the victim first stole his girlfriend and then claimed Minot’s only son as his own, it all makes sense. Even the timing fits in. According to Minot, he’d wanted to get even with Aldo for years, but Chiara had forbidden it. She was apparently a conventional person, in that sense at least, and even though Vincenzo allegedly raped her to force the marriage…’
Maurizio grasped his brother’s shoulders and held him still.
‘… Chiara took the view that she was married to him for better or worse, and made Minot swear on the ashes of their youthful love that he would not harm Aldo. So it wasn’t until she died that he was able to carry out his long-premeditated revenge.’
Zen clapped his hands together.
‘It’s a pretty tale, and of course the press will eat it up. “Ex-partisan kills to avenge teenage sweet-heart! A love affair that triumphed over death!” But what I need is independent confirmation of this alleged love affair
