Wilful behaviour

account.' 'Any instructions?'

'No, only that it was to be sent to her account.' 'Have you spoken to them?' he asked. 'Who, the bank or the gallery?' she asked. The gallery.'

'No, sir. I thought you'd want to do that.'

'I'd rather it be done in French,' he said. 'People always feel safer in their own language.'

'Who shall I say I am, sir?' she asked as she reached for the phone and punched 9 to get the outside line.

'Tell them you're calling for the Questore,' Brunetti said.

This is exactly what she did, though it served no purpose. The Director of the gallery, to whom the call was eventually passed, refused to divulge any information about the payments until in possession of an order from a Swiss court to do so. From Signorina Elettra's expression, Brunetti inferred that the Director had not been at all polite in conveying this information.

'And now?' Brunetti asked when she explained what she had been told and the manner in which it had been said.

Signorina Elettra closed her eyes and raised her eyebrows for an instant, as if to remark upon the triviality of the problem that now confronted her. 'If s rather like what the police are always telling people in movies: either they can do it the easy way or the hard way. Monsieur Lablanche has chosen the hard way.'

‘For himself or for us?' Brunetti asked.

'For us, at the beginning’ she explained. 'But, depending on what we find, perhaps for himself, as well.'

'Should I ask what you're going to do?'

'Since some of it is illegal, sir, it might be better if you refrained from doing so.'

'Indeed. Will it take long?'

'No longer than it would take you to go down the fondamenta and have a coffee. In fact’ she said, glancing at her watch, 'I'll just do this and join you in a few minutes.'

Like Adam, he fell. 'Is it really that easy?'

Signorina Elettra appeared to be in a philosophical mood, for by way of answer she said, 'I once asked a plumber who came to fix my water heater, and who did it in three minutes, how he dared to charge me eighty thousand lire for turning a little knob. He told me it had taken him twenty years to learn which knob to turn. And so I suppose it's like that: it can take minutes, but I've spent years learning which knob to turn.'

'I see,' Brunetti said and went down to the bar at the Ponte dei Greci for a coffee. He was subsequently joined there by Signorina Elettra, though she was longer than twenty minutes.

When she had a coffee in front of her, she said, The gallery is run by two brothers, the grandsons of the founder. The Swiss police are very interested in some of their recent acquisitions, especially those from the Middle East, as three pieces in their catalogue were once in the possession of private owners in Kuwait. Or so the Kuwaitis claim; unfortunately, they don't have photos or bills of sale, which means they probably got them illegally in the first place themselves.' She sipped at the coffee, added a bit more sugar, sipped again and set the cup down.

The grandfather was in charge of the gallery during the war and seems to have received quite a number of paintings from Germany, France and Italy. All, of course, with impeccable pedigrees: bills of sale and Customs declarations. There was an investigation after the war, of course, but nothing came of it. The gallery is well known, successful and rumoured to be very discreet'

When it seemed likely that she had nothing more to say about the gallery, Brunetti asked, 'And the bank transfers?'

'As you said, every month, ten million lire. Ifs been going on since she was sixteen’

That, Brunetti thought, would make more than half a billion lire, with still only three million in the bank. 'How is it possible,' Brunetti began, 'for that much money to come into the country from a foreign source and for no investigation of it to be made?'

'But you don't know that, do you, sir?' she asked. 'Maybe she declared it and paid tax on it, incredible as that would be. Or perhaps the bank had a discreet arrangement and the money went unreported, or the report went unread.'

'But isn't it automatic that the Finanza learns when this much money is coming into the country?'

'Only if the bank wants them to know, sir’

That’s hard to believe,' Brunetti protested.

'Most of the things banks do are hard to believe.'

He recalled that, before coming to work at the Questura, Signorina Elettra had worked for Banca d'ltalia, and so must know whereof she spoke.

'How could someone find out where the money went after it was deposited into her account here?'

'If the bank explained it or if access to the account were possible.'

'Which is easier?'

'Did they volunteer the information when you spoke to them? Presumably, you told them that she was dead’

Brunetti thought back to the careful formality of the Director. 'No, he passed me to a teller, and she sent me a copy of the deposits and withdrawals to the account, though the large transfers weren't explained’

'Then I think it might be wise for us to check their records ourselves,' Signorina Elettra suggested.

There was no doubt in Brunetti's mind about the illegality of this. The fact didn't make him hesitate for an instant. 'Could we go back now and have a look?'

'Nothing easier, sir’ she said and finished her coffee.

Back at Signorina Elettra's office, they studied the new information she called up on her computer screen and discovered that Claudia Leonardo had, during the course of the last few years, transferred the bulk of her money to various places around the globe: Thailand, Brazil, Ecuador and Indonesia were but a few of the places the money had gone. There was no pattern to the transfers, and the sums varied from two million to twenty. The total, however, was well in excess of three hundred million lire. Other sums had gone in the form of assegni circolari to various recipients. There was no pattern here, either, but there was a similarity of purpose, for all were charitable organizations of one sort or another: an orphanage in Kerala, Medecins sans Frontieres, Greenpeace, an AIDS hospice in Nairobi.

‘Paola was right’ Brunetti said aloud. 'She gave it all away’

'That's a strange thing for someone her age to do, isn't it?' Signorina Elettra asked. 'If this is the right figure’ she said, pointing to a total she had calculated at the bottom of the page, 'it's close to half a billion lire’

He nodded.

'None of it went on taxes, did it?' she asked. 'Not if these amounts went to charities.'

They considered the figures for a moment, neither of them truly understanding anything beyond the total sum and the places it had been sent.

Was there any mention of a notary or a lawyer?' Brunetti suddenly asked.

‘In those, you mean?' she asked, gesturing at the girl's papers, still fanned out on the top of her desk.

‘Yes.'

'No. But I haven't checked all the numbers in her address book. Shall I?'

'How? By calling them all?' he said, picking up the book and opening it to the As.

Did he see her eyes close for the merest fraction of a second? He couldn't be sure. While he was still trying to decide, she took the book from him and said, 'No, sir. There's a way Telecom can find the name and address of any number that’ s listed. All they've got to do is punch in the phone number and the program gives them the name instantly.'

'Is this something I could do by calling them?' he asked.

'If s a public service in other countries, but here, the only ones who have access are Telecom, and I doubt they'd let you have access to the information without a court order.' After a moment, she added, 'But my friend Giorgio has given me a copy of the program.'

'Good. Then would you check all the numbers and see if any are lawyers or notaries?'

'And then?'

'And then I want to talk to them.'

'Would you like me to make appointments if I find them?' 'No, I prefer to appear unannounced.' like a mugger?' she asked.