Wilful behaviour

'Did he suggest that Signora Jacobs give the drawings in exchange?'

'No, all he did was tell Claudia that there was proof that he was innocent and suggest she ask Signora Jacobs what she wanted to do.'

'And?'

‘I don't know what happened. I think Claudia talked to her about it, and I think my father had someone go and talk to the old woman.' She sounded vague and uninterested in this, but then she glanced at him sharply and said. Then I heard him talking to Claudia on the phone’

'And is that when he told you that they were lovers?' Brunetti asked.

'Yes. But he told me that it was over, that he'd ended it. In fact, he slammed the phone down on her that time, told her to be very careful what she told people about him. And he sounded so upset that I made a noise.' She stopped again.

Brunetti waited.

'He came out of his office and saw me, and he asked me what I'd heard. I told him, I told him that I couldn't stand it any more, him and those girls, that I was afraid of what I'd do if he didn't stop.' She nodded her head, no doubt hearing the words again, replaying the jealous scene between her and her husband.

After some time, she went on, That’s when he told me about the way she had tempted him and how he hadn't wanted to do anything. But she'd thrown herself at him. Touched him.' She pronounced the words, 'tempted' and 'thrown' with disgust, but when she said 'touched' she spoke with shock that approached horror. 'And he told me then that he was afraid of what would happen if she came back, that he was a man, and he was weak. That it was me he loved but he didn't know what would happen if this wicked girl tempted him again.'

Seeing how agitated she was becoming, Brunetti decided it would be best to lead her away from these memories for a moment. 'Let me go back to one thing, Signora, to the conversation you heard when you came in. Your husband was telling her that, if she came back to the Biblioteca and didn't tell anyone, he wouldn't do anything else? Is that correct?'

She nodded.

‘I’m sorry to have to remind you, Signora, but you have to speak.' ‘Yes.'

That's what he said?'

'Yes’

'Is it possible that he might have been talking about something else? Have you thought about this?' he asked.

Her look was utterly candid, and she said, 'But that's what he told me he meant. That he would allow her to come back, and if she behaved he wouldn't do anything.'

'Why would he want her to come back?'

She smiled here, having been quicker than he to ask this question and understand the reason. 'He said he didn't want there to be any talk, that he didn't want me to be hurt by what people might say.' She smiled at this proof of her husband's consideration and, ineluctably, love.

‘I see’ Brunetti said. 'But then, when he told you how frightened he was of his weakness, that she could tempt him again, how did you react?'

‘I was proud of him, that he would be so honest with me and that I was worth so much to him. That he would confess to me.'

'Of course’ Brunetti muttered, understanding just what her husband's confession really had meant to achieve and how successful he had been. 'And did he ask you anything?' Brunetti asked. When she seemed reluctant to answer, he changed the words a bit, 'Did he ask for your help?'

That brought a smile. 'Yes. He wanted me to go and talk to her and try to make her agree to stay away from him.'

'Yes, I can see that that would be wise,' Brunetti said, seeing only too well her husband's wisdom in making the request. 'And did you go?'

'Not for a few more nights. I told him I trusted him to be strong. But then, a few days later, he came and told me that she had started again, had ... had touched him again, and he didn't know how long he would be strong.' Again, her voice broke in horror at the girl's behaviour.

'And did he ask you again to go and talk to her?'

'No’ she said. 'He didn't have to. I knew it was what I had to do, to go and tell her to leave him alone and not tempt him.' 'And?'

'And I went that night,' she said, folding her hands in front of her on the table, interlacing her fingers. 'And?' Brunetti asked.

‘You know what happened,' she said with dismissive contempt for this charade.

‘I’m afraid I do, Signora, but you have to say it.'

‘I killed her’ she said, voice tight. 'She let me in and I started to talk to her. I have my pride, so I didn't say that Maxwell had asked me. I told her she'd have to stay away from him.'

'And what happened?'

'She told me that I was wrong, that she had no interest in him, that I had it all backwards and it was Maxwell who was bothering her.' She smiled confidently here. 'But he'd warned me that she'd lie and tell me that, so I was ready for it.'

Then?'

'Then she said things about him, terrible things that I couldn't listen to.' 'What things?'

That she knew that the idea of those papers about Guzzardi was just a way for Maxwell and my father to get money, that she'd told Maxwell she was going to tell Signora Jacobs about it.' She stopped, and Brunetti heard a distinct hardening in her voice as she said, 'And she made up lies about other girls and what people in the Biblioteca said about him.'

'And then?'

'And then she said the idea of sex with him made her sick.' Her tone struck out, even to the edge of doom, and he knew, without her having to tell him, that it was this that had driven her over the edge to violence.

‘The weapon, Signora?'

She was eating an apple. The knife was on the table’ Just like in Tosca, Brunetti thought. He shivered. 'She didn't scream?' he asked.

'No. I think she was too surprised. She had turned away for something, I don't know what, and when she turned around, I did it.'

‘I see,' Brunetti said. He decided not to ask for details: it was more important that the typist outside be given the tape as soon as possible so that a written statement could be prepared for her to sign. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, 'And Signora Jacobs?'

'What about her?' she asked, honestly puzzled.

Instantly Brunetti abandoned the question he was about to ask as well as his suspicion that Signora Jacobs had been murdered.

'I'm afraid it was too much for her’ the woman said and then surprised Brunetti by adding, 'I'm sorry that she died.'

'Are you sorry you killed the girl, Signora?'

She shook her head a number of times in calm, determined denial. 'No, not at all. I'm glad I did it.'

Obviously she had forgotten, or forgiven, her husband's supposed betrayal, just that afternoon, a false betrayal that had catapulted her into her own true self-betrayal.

Suddenly Brunetti's spirit was overcome with the weight of human folly and misery, and he stood, gave the time, said the interview was terminated, and left the room to go and have her confession typed out.

27

Brunetti succeeded in having Signora Ford sign her confession. He stood in the room with the secretary who transcribed it and then took it back to the interview room and to the waiting woman, who signed and dated it. No sooner had she done so than her husband arrived with a lawyer who protested that he had not been present while his client was being questioned. Ford had obviously thought to pull out all of the stops with the professional classes and had brought along a doctor as well; he demanded to see his patient and, after giving her a cursory glance, said that it was necessary that she be hospitalized immediately. The two of them struck Brunetti as looking like a pair of