niece,' she said, and then again, 'Graziella.'
Brunetti removed some of the sympathy from his voice and asked, 'Why would she do mat?'
Her shrug was so strong that Brunetti felt pushed away by it. He waited for further clarification, and when it was not formcoming, he asked, 'Was it about anything concerning the estate, Signora?' unwilling to let her know that he was aware of the bank accounts.
'Perhaps,' the lawyer answered, and his practised ear detected the first traces of equivocation, as though the shock of the dog's death was beginning to wear off.
'What is it she thinks you did, Signora?' he asked.
He was prepared for her to shrug this off, but he was not prepared for her to look him in the face and lie. 'I don't know,' she said.
This, he realized, was the crucial point. If he allowed the lie to pass, then there would be no more truth from her, no matter how long he questioned her or how many times he questioned her again. Casually then, as though he were a trusted old friend asked in to sit at the fireside and talk of familiar things, he said, 'We'd have very little trouble proving that you moved her money out of the country, Awocatessa, and even if we failed to get a conviction because you do have the power of attorney, your reputation as a lawyer would be compromised.' Then, as if it had just occurred to him, as a friend, to warn her of further consequences, he added, 'And I suspect the Finanza would also want to talk to you about the money.'
Her astonishment was total. All her lawyerly skills fell from her and she blurted out, 'How did you know about that?'
'It's sufficient that we do know,' he said, all compassion absent from his voice. She registered the change in his tone and sat up straight, even moved her chair a bit away from his. As he studied her, he saw her harden in much the same way he had.
‘I think we had better talk about this honestly.' He watched her begin to object and cut her off. ‘I don't care in the least about the money or what you did with it: all I want to know is where it came from.' Again, he saw her getting ready to speak, and he knew she would lie to him unless he managed to frighten her sufficiently. 'If I'm not satisfied with what you tell me about the money, I will file an official report about the bank accounts, the power of attorney, and the dates and destinations of the transfers.'
'How did you find out?' she asked in a voice he had not heard her use before.
'As I said before, that's irrelevant. My only interest is in finding out where the money came from.'
'She killed my dog’ she said with sudden savagery.
Brunetti lost his patience and answered, 'Then you better hope she didn't kill her aunt, too, because if she did, you're probably next on her list.'
Her eyes widened as this hit home. She shook her head once, twice, three times, as though she wanted to eradicate the possibility. 'No, she couldn't have’ she said. 'Never.'
'Why?'
‘I know her. She wouldn't do it.' There was no questioning the certainty with which she spoke.
'And Poppi? Didn't she kill her?' He had no idea if this was the truth, but it sufficed that she believed it.
'She hates dogs, hates animals.'
'How well do you know her?'
'Well enough to know that.'
'That's different from knowing she wouldn't kill her aunt.'
Provoked by his scepticism, she said, 'If she did kill her, she would have taken the money before. Or the day after.'
Realizing that she must then have known about the niece's power of attorney, perhaps even prepared it herself, he asked, 'But you worked more quickly?'
If she was insulted, she gave no sign of it and answered only, 'Yes.'
'Then you might be the one who killed her’ he suggested, thinking it unlikely but curious as to how she would react to the suggestion.
‘I wouldn't kill anyone for so little’ she said; he found himself unable to comment.
Instead, he returned to the bank accounts. 'Where did the money come from?' She gave no sign that she was willing to answer, so he went on, 'You were her lawyer, and she trusted you with a power of attorney, so you know something.' When she still resisted, he said, 'Whoever killed her was someone she trusted enough to let into her apartment. Perhaps they knew about the money, or perhaps this was the person who had been giving her the money all those years.' He watched her mind run ahead of his words and saw it register certain possibilities. Without naming the worst of them, he said, 'It might be in your best interests that we find this person, Avvocatessa.'
Her voice tight, she asked, 'Could that be who killed her?' When he didn't answer, she added, 'Poppi?'
He nodded, though he thought that the person capable of such savagery against Signora Battestini was not someone who would bother to send a warning by killing someone's dog.
All resistance disappeared as she shrank back from the awareness of her own mortality. ‘I don't know who it was’ she said. 'Really, I never knew. She never told me.'
Brunetti waited almost a full minute for her to continue, but when she remained silent, he asked, 'What did she tell you?'
'Nothing. Just that the money was deposited every month.'
'Did she say what she wanted the money for or what she wanted done with it?'
She shook her head. 'No, never, just that it was there.' She thought about this for some time, then could not hide her own bewilderment when she said, ‘I don't think it was important to her, spending it or being able to spend it. She just liked having it, knowing it was there.' She looked up and around the room, as if seeking some explanation for behaviour as strange as this. Then she looked back at Brunetti and said, 'She didn't tell me about it until three years ago, when she started to talk about making a will.'
'And what did she tell you?' he asked again.
'Only that it was there.'
'Did she tell you who she wanted it to go to?'
The lawyer feigned confusion, and he repeated, 'Did she tell you where she wanted it to go? You were there to talk about her will, so she must have mentioned the money to some purpose.'
'No,' she said, obviously lying.
'Why did she give you power of attorney?' he asked.
Her pause was a long one, no doubt allowing her time to construct an answer he might believe. 'She wanted me to take care of things for her.' It was vague, but it appeared to be all she was willing to divulge.
'Such as?' he asked.
'Finding the women who went in to help her. Paying them. We thought it would be easier if I didn't have to keep asking her to sign cheques.
By then, she wasn't leaving the house any more, so she couldn't get to the bank’ She waited to see how he would react to this, and when he said nothing, she added, 'It was easier.'
She must consider him a fool, to think he would believe a person like Signora Battestini would trust anyone with all of her money. He wondered how Marieschi had persuaded the old woman to sign the power of attorney or what it was she thought she was signing. He wondered who had been there to witness the document. As he had told her, he cared little about where the money went, wanting only to know where it had come from. 'So you used the money to pay the expenses of the women who helped her?'
'Yes. Her utility bills were paid automatically by the bank’
'They were all illegal, weren't they?' he asked abruptly.
She feigned confusion and said, ‘I don't know what you mean’
‘I confess to being amazed, Avvocatessa, that a lawyer in this country wouldn't be familiar with the idea of illegal workers.'
Forgetting herself entirely, she said, 'You can't prove I knew that.'
He went on with studied calm, 'I think it's time for me to explain a few things to you. Whatever business it is you're running with illegal workers and fake passports is of no interest to me, not during a murder investigation. But if you continue to lie to me or evade my questions, I will see that a complete report of your activities, as well as the addresses of the women in Trieste and Milano who are also using the false papers of Florinda Ghiorghiu,
