boy; he regretted the folly of having given in to his impulse to follow
the scent laid down by Filippi. There was virtually no hope that
Cappellini could be led to repeat what he had just said. Once he spoke
to cooler heads, once his family got to him, once a lawyer explained to
them the inescapable consequences of an involvement with the judicial
system, the boy was certain to deny it all. Much as Brunetti longed to
be able to use the information, he had to admit that no sane person
would admit to having had knowledge of a crime and not going to the
police; much less would they allow their child to do so.
It struck him that, in similar circumstances, he would be reluctant to
allow his own children to become involved. Surely, in his role as
police officer, he would offer them the protection of the state, but as
a father he knew that their only hope of emerging unscathed from a
brush with the
magistratura would be his own position and, more importantly, their
grandfather's wealth.
He turned away from the boys' room. 'Let's go back,' he told a
surprised Pucetti.
On the way back to the Questura, Brunetti explained to Pucetti the laws
regarding statements from underage witnesses. If what Cappellini told
them was true and Brunetti's bones told him it was then he bore some
legal responsibility for his failure to tell the police what he knew.
This, however, was only negligence; the actions of Zanchi and Maselli
if they were involved and of Filippi, were active and criminal and, in
the case of Filippi, subject to the full weight of the law. But until
Cappellini confirmed his statement in the presence of a lawyer, his
story had no legal weight whatsoever.
Their only hope, he thought, was to attempt the same strategy with
Filippi as had worked with his roommate: pretend to have full knowledge
of the events leading to Moro's death and hope that, by asking
questions about the small details that still remained unexplained, they
could lead the boy to a full explanation of just what had happened.
Holding the mooring rope, Pucetti jumped on to the Questura dock and
hauled the boat up to the side of the pier.
Brunetti thanked the pilot and followed Pucetti into the building.
Silent, they went back to the interrogation rooms, where they found
Vianello standing in the corridor.
They still here?' asked Brunetti.
'Yes/ Vianello said, glancing at his watch, then at the closed door.
'Been in there more than an hour.'
'Hear anything?' Pucetti asked.
Vianello shook his head. 'Not a word. I went in a half-hour ago to
ask them if they wanted anything to drink, but the lawyer told me to
get out.'
'How'd the boy look?' Brunetti asked.
'Worried.'
The father?'
The same.'
'Who's the lawyer?'
'Donatini,' Vianello said in a studiedly neutral voice.
'Oh, my,' Brunetti answered, finding it interesting that the most
famous criminal lawyer in the city should be chosen by Maggiore Filippi
to represent his son.
'He say anything?' Brunetti asked.
Vianello shook his head.
The three men stood in the corridor for a few minutes until Brunetti,
tiring of it, told Vianello he could go back to his office and himself
went up to his own. There he waited until, almost an hour later,
Pucetti phoned and told him that Avvocato Donatini said his client was
ready to talk to him.
Brunetti called Vianello and told him he'd meet him at the
interrogation room but deliberately made no haste in going downstairs.
Vianello was there when he arrived. Brunetti nodded, and Vianello
opened the door and stood back, allowing his superior to pass into the
room before him.
Donatini stood and extended his hand to Brunetti, who shook it briefly.
He smiled his cool smile, and Brunetti noticed that he had had
extensive dental work since last they met. The Pavarotti-style caps on
his upper front teeth had
been replaced with new ones that better corresponded to the proportions
of his face. The rest was the same as ever: skin, suit, tie, shoes all
joining in a hallelujah to wealth and success and power. The lawyer
gave Vianello a curt nod but did not offer his hand. The Filippis,
father and son, looked up at the policemen but did not acknowledge
their arrival with even a nod. The father wore civilian clothes, but
