Doctored Evidence

amounts of saliva.

Vianello turned back but stayed at least a metre from her, reluctant to add the threat of his size to that in Brunetti's words. Both men regarded her, saying nothing.

'It was Paolo’ she said. 'He did it. He got it for her, but I don't know how. She would never tell me that, only how proud she was of him. She said he always thought of her first’ She stopped, as if she thought this sufficient to answer their questions and counter the threat to her.

'What, exactly, did she tell you?' asked a relentless Brunetti.

'What I just told you,' she answered belligerently.

Brunetti turned away from her. 'Go out and tell her, Vianello’ he said.

Signorina Simionato looked from one to the other, seeking mercy. When she saw none, she put her head back and began to wail like an animal, howling as if wounded.

Fearful of what would happen, Brunetti took a step towards her, but stopped himself and moved back, not wanting to be seen near her when anyone came to investigate. In an instant, the owner appeared at the door and shouted, 'Graziella. Stop it. Stop it or you're gone from here today.'

Instantly, as quickly as it had begun, the noise ceased, but Signorina Simionato continued to sob. The owner looked at Brunetti and Vianello, made a disgusted noise, and left, closing the door on them.

Remorseless, Brunetti turned to the sobbing woman and said, 'You heard her, Graziella. She's not going to be very patient with you if I have to tell her about Poppi and about the poison, is she?'

Graziella pulled off her hat and wiped at her mouth and nose with it, but she seemed incapable of stopping her sobs. She took off her glasses and set them on the surface of a stove and wiped at her face, then looked at Brunetti with her naked eyes, which were crossed and virtually sightless.

He fought back pity and said, 'What else did she tell you, Graziella? About the money.'

The sobbing stopped, and she took a final wipe at her face. Blindly, she put her hand out and began to feel around for the glasses. Brunetti watched her hand come close, move away, come close; he resisted the desire to help her. Finally her hand landed on the glasses and, careful to use both hands, she replaced them.

'What did she tell you, Graziella?' Brunetti repeated. 'Where did Paolo get the money?'

'From someone at work,' she said. 'She was so proud of him. She said it was a bonus he got for being so clever. But she was nasty when she said that, like she didn't mean it and like Paolo had done something bad to get it. But I didn't care about that because she said the money was going to be mine some day. So it didn't matter how he got it. Besides, she said eveiything he did was under the protection of the Madonna, so it wasn't wrong, was it?'

Brunetti ignored her question and asked, 'Did you know where it was, in which banks?'

She hung her head, looking down at the floor between their feet, and nodded.

'Do you know how it got there?'

Silence. She kept her head lowered, and he wondered what sluggish assessment she was making of his question and how much of the truth she would decide to tell him.

She surprised him by answering his question literally. ‘I put it there’

This made no immediate sense to him but, displaying no confusion, he asked, 'How?'

'After Paolo died, I went to see her every month and she gave me the money, and I took it to the banks.' Of course, of course, he had never thought to ask or to wonder about the precise physical details of how the deposits were made, thinking that they had to be arcane transfers discoverable only by Signorina Elettra's arts.

'And the receipts?'

‘I took them back to her. Every month.'

'Where are they now?'

Silence.

Raising his voice, he repeated, 'Where are they now?'

Her voice was low, but by bending down he could make it out. 'She told me to burn them.' 'Who?' he asked, though he had a good idea. 'She did’ 'Who?'

'The lawyer,' she finally said, refusing to give Marieschi's name.

'And did you do this?' he asked, wondering if she realized that she would have thus destroyed proof that the money had ever existed.

She looked up at him, and he saw that the lenses were soaked with the tears that had fallen while her head was lowered, and her eyes were even more out of focus.

'Did you burn them, Signorina?' he asked, no softness in his voice.

'She said it was the only way I could be sure I'd get the money because the police might be suspicious if they came and found the receipts,' she said, her sense of loss audible in every word.

'And then afterwards, Signorina, what happened when you went to the banks to try to get it?' Brunetti asked.

'The people at the banks – I knew them all -told me that the accounts had been closed.'

'And why did you think Avvocatessa Marieschi took it?' he asked, introducing the name for the first time.

'Because Zia Maria told me she was the only other person who knew about the money. And that I could trust her.' She said this with audible disgust. 'Who else could it be?'

Brunetti looked across at the silent Vianello and raised his chin in interrogation. Vianello closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head: that was it; there was nothing else to be learned from her.

Brunetti didn't bother to say anything to her but turned away and started towards the door.

Behind him, however, he heard Vianello's voice. 'Why did you kill the dog, Signorina?' Brunetti stopped but didn't turn around.

Such a long time passed that anyone but the stolid Vianello would have abandoned the wait and left. Finally, consonants wetter than ever, she spat out, 'Because people love dogs.' After a short pause, Brunetti heard Vianello's steps behind him and he continued walking towards the door to the shop.

19

'Well’ Brunetti asked as they stepped out into Calle Lunga San Barnaba, 'what did you think?'

'I'd say she's what my kids are being taught at school to call 'differently abled'.'

'Retarded, you mean?' Brunetti asked.

'Yes. There's the look of her, the way she howled when she couldn't get her way, and an almost total lack of normal human reactions or feelings.'

'Sounds like half the Questura’ Brunetti said.

It took a second for this to register, but then Vianello laughed so hard he had to stop walking and lean against the wall of a building until he stopped. Feeling not a little proud of the remark, Brunetti made a note to tell Paola and wondered if Vianello would tell Signorina Elettra.

When Vianello had regained control of himself, Brunetti continued down towards the Ca' Rezzonico vaporetto stop. 'You think she could have had anything to do with her aunt's death?'

Vianello's answer was immediate. ‘I don't think so. She started to scream when you asked her about the accounts and threatened to have her fired if she didn't answer. She didn't seem at all troubled when you talked about her aunt.'

Brunetti was of the same opinion, but he was nonetheless glad to have it confirmed by the inspector. 'We'll have to get a list of everyone who worked with him while he was at the school board,' he said, then corrected himself, 'at least who was working there when the payments started.'

'If the records have been computerized’ Vianello said, 'it ought to be easy.'

'I'm surprised she isn't giving you homework to do every night’ Brunetti said with a smile. When Vianello failed to respond, he demanded, 'She isn't, is she?'

They reached the imbarcadero and stepped inside, glad of the shade. Vianello scratched his head. 'Not exactly, sir. But you know she's given me a computer. That is, the Department has given me a computer. And occasionally she suggests I try certain things on it.'

'Would I understand?' Brunetti asked.