Death in a Strange Country

He continued towards the Questura, cutting parallel to San Marco but avoiding the Piazza itself. When he arrived, he went to the second floor, where he found Rossi talking to Riverre, an officer he thought was out on sick leave. When he walked in, Rossi signalled for him to come over to his desk.

‘I’m glad you’re here, sir. We’ve got something new.’

‘What?’

‘A break-in. On the Grand Canal. That big palazzo that’s just been restored, over by San Stae.’

‘The one that belongs to the Milanese?’

‘Yes, sir. When he got there last night, he found two men, maybe there were three, he wasn’t sure, in the place.’

‘What happened?’

‘Vianello’s over at the hospital, talking to him now. What I’ve got, I got from the men who answered the call and took him to the hospital.’

‘What did they say?’

‘He tried to get out, but they grabbed him and gave him a going over. He had to be taken to the hospital, but it’s nothing too bad. Cuts and bruises.’

‘And the three men? Two men?’

‘No sign of them. The men who answered the call went back to the place after they took him to the hospital. It looks like they got away with a couple of paintings and some of his wife’s jewellery.’

‘Any description of the men who did it?’

‘He didn’t see them clearly, couldn’t say much, except that one of them was very tall, and he thought one of them might have a beard. But,’ Rossi added, looking up and smiling, ‘there was a pair of tourists sitting on the edge of the canal, and they saw three men come out of the palazzo. One of them was carrying a suitcase. These kids were still there when our men arrived, and they gave us a description.’ He paused and smiled as if sure Brunetti would enjoy what was coming next. ‘One of them sounds like Ruffolo.’

Brunetti’s response was immediate. ‘I thought he was in prison.’

‘He was, sir, until two weeks ago.’

‘Have you shown them photos?’

‘Yes, sir. And they think it’s him. They noticed the big ears.’

‘What about the owner? Have you shown him the photo?’

‘Not yet, sir. I just got back from talking to these Belgian kids. Sounds like Ruffolo to me.’

‘And what about the other two men? Are the descriptions these Belgian kids gave you the same as his?’

‘Well, sir, it was dark, and they weren’t really paying attention.’

‘But?’

‘But they’re pretty sure neither one of them had a beard.’

Brunetti thought about this for a moment, then told Rossi, ‘Take the photo over to the hospital and see if he recognizes him. Can he talk, the Milanese?’

‘Oh, yes, sir. He’s all right. A couple of bruises, a black eye, but he’s all right. Place is fully insured.’

Why was it that it always seemed less a crime if the place was insured?

‘If he gives you a positive identification of Ruffolo, let me know, and I’ll go over to his mother’s place and see if she knows where he is.’

Rossi snorted at this.

‘I know, I know. She’d lie to the Pope if it would save her little Peppino. Well, who’s to blame her? He is her only son. Besides, I’d like to see the old battle-axe again; I don’t think I’ve seen her more than twice since the last time I arrested him.’

‘She tried to get you with scissors then, didn’t she, sir?’ Rossi asked.

‘Well, her heart really wasn’t in it, and Peppino was there to stop her.’ He grinned outright at the memory, certainly one of the most absurd moments in his career. ‘Besides, they were only pinking shears.’

‘She’s a piece of work, Signora Concetta.’

‘Indeed,’ Brunetti agreed. ‘And get someone to keep an eye on that girlfriend of his. What’s her name?’

‘Ivana Something-or-Other.’

‘Yes, her.’

‘You want us to talk to her, sir?’

‘No, she’d just say she hasn’t seen him. Speak to those people who live under her. They turned Ruffolo in last time. Maybe they’d let us put someone in the apartment until he shows up. Ask them.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Anything else?’

‘No, nothing.’