behind them and while he took off his overcoat and hung it in the
closet, said, What did you learn?'
Pucetti kept the papers tucked under, his arm and said, 'I think
there's something wrong with the Ruffo boy, sir. I went over there
yesterday and hung around in the bar down the street from the school,
and when he came in I said hello. I offered him a coffee, but it
seemed to me he was nervous about talking to me.'
'Or being seen talking to you Brunetti suggested. When Pucetti agreed,
Brunetti asked, 'What makes you think there's something wrong with
him?'
'I think he's been in a fight.' Not waiting for Brunetti to question
him, Pucetti went on. 'Both of his hands were scraped, and the
knuckles of his right hand were swollen. When he saw me looking at
them, he tried to hide them behind his back.'
'What else?'
'He moved differently, as though he were stiff.'
'What did he tell you?' asked Brunetti as he sat down behind his
desk.
'He said he's had time to think about it and he realizes now that maybe
it was suicide, after all,' Pucetti said.
Brunetti propped his elbows on his desk and rested his chin on his
folded hands. Silently, he waited to hear not only what Pucetti had
been told but what he thought of it.
In the face of his superior's silence, Pucetti ventured, 'He doesn't
believe that, sir, at least I don't think he does.'
'Why?'
'He sounded frightened, and he sounded as if he were repeating
something he'd had to memorize. I asked him why he thought it might
have been suicide, and he said it was because Moro had been acting
strangely in the last few weeks.' Pucetti paused, then added, 'Just
the opposite of what he told me the first time. It was as if he needed
some sign from me that I believed him.'
'And did you give it to him?' Brunetti asked.
'Of course, sir. If that's what he needs to feel safe, and I think it
is, then it's better he have it.'
'Why's that, Pucetti?'
'Because it will cause him to relax, and when he relaxes he'll be even
more frightened when we talk to him again.'
'Here, do you mean?'
'Downstairs, yes. And with someone big in the room with us.'
Brunetti looked up at the young man and smiled.
The obvious choice to serve the role of enforcer was Vianello, a man
who had perfected the art of disguising his essential good nature
behind expressions that could vary from displeased to savage. He was
not, however, to be given the chance to employ his repertory on Cadet
Ruffo, for when the
Inspector and Pucetti arrived at the San Martino Academy an hour later,
the cadet was not in his room, nor did the boys on his floor know where
to find him. It was the Comandante who brought illumination by telling
them, when their inquiries finally led them to his office, that Cadet
Ruffo had been granted leave to visit his family and was not expected
to return to the Academy for at least two weeks.
When asked, the Comandante remained vague as to the precise reason for
Cadet Ruffo's leave, saying something about 'family matters', as if
that should satisfy any curiosity on their part.
Vianello knew that the student list was in Signorina Elettra's
possession, a list that would surely provide the address of Ruffo's
parents, and so it was nothing more than interest in the Comandante's
response that prompted Vianello to ask him to provide it. He refused,
insisting that the addresses of the students constituted privileged
information. Then he announced that he had a meeting to attend and
asked them to leave.
After the two men returned to the Questura and reported this encounter
to Brunetti, he asked Pucetti, 'What was your general impression of the
cadets?'
I'd like to say they were frightened, the way Ruffo was when I talked
to him the last time, but they weren't. In fact, they seemed angry
that I'd ask them anything, almost as if I didn't have a right to talk
to them.' The young officer shrugged in confusion about how to make
all of this clear. 'I mean, they're all seven or eight years younger
than I am, but they acted like they were speaking to a kid or someone
who was supposed to obey them.' He looked perplexed.
'An enlisted man, for example?' Brunetti asked.
