The Innocent (19 page)

‘I can’t remember! I was upset!’

‘Try not to get upset now. Sit down. That’s better. Try to think back. Did he ask you if you knew where she’d gone?’

‘No!’

‘What, then?’

‘Nothing! He didn’t ask me anything. I knew he must be looking for her. Of course he was looking for her. What else would he come to me for? I told him the only place I could think of was Rome, the same as I told you, and if she wasn’t there, she’d gone back to where she came from. I couldn’t help him. And he just stood there looking like somebody had hit him with a brick. He just stood there!’

‘He didn’t ask you anything? He didn’t say anything?’

‘I’m telling you! He just stood there!’

‘All right. Calm down. Please, calm down. He must have presented himself, said who he was at least, if you’d never met him before.’

‘I knew who he was! I’ve seen a dozen photographs of him—not that he looked much like them that day. He looked like a dead man then. It’s no surprise to me if he … He didn’t speak a word. His eyes … She talked about him all the time. She said he was thoughtful, tender, warm-hearted, and she was too intelligent to be mistaken, I’d swear to that.’

‘Peruzzi, listen. I have to ask you something that’s very important now that I know about Esposito: Can you remember what time she left the workshop on the last day you saw her? Was it your usual closing time?’

‘Closing time? No, of course not, it was eleven thirty in the morning.’

‘Eleven thirty in the morning? Where was she going? Where was she going at that time of the morning?’

‘To the bank.’

‘For herself or for you?’

‘For me, of course. It was Friday. She always took the cash and cheques in on Friday mornings. Ever since my heart attack, she—’

‘Peruzzi, this is important. I’m trying to work out exactly when this happened. I need to know her movements and Esposito’s.’

‘She used to meet him sometimes for a quick coffee, if he was out and about. She always went to the bank at the same time—I’m not getting him into trouble saying that, am I?’

‘You can’t get him into trouble now, Peruzzi.’

‘No. No, of course not—but I’m not saying she was going to meet him that day. She didn’t say she was.’

‘And would she have said?’

‘I … Maybe, maybe not, but this was after, after the upset …’ Peruzzi fell silent.

‘All right. But did she get there? Did she get to the bank and deposit the money?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know? How can you not know that? You’d have noticed that nothing was deposited for the whole week, wouldn’t you?’

‘No! But my son would have found out, if not right away then at the end of the month when he looked at my accounts. You’re never accusing Akiko of—’

‘I’m not accusing Akiko of anything. Don’t you realise that, if somebody knew she was carrying money every Friday, she could have been robbed? There was nothing in her handbag to tell us she was going to or coming from a bank. No money, no cheques and no bank receipt either.

I presume she gave you the receipts?’

‘Yes … well, she filed them until it was time to do my tax declaration. Anyway, what do you mean, robbed? She might have been robbed in the street but she …’ He stopped himself, blocking off the obvious conclusion that the marshal would like to block, too.

It was Santini who said it. ‘She must have met whoever it was, up there.’

‘She didn’t say she was meeting him. She didn’t say. I’d have remembered, wouldn’t I? I mean, when she didn’t come back, I’d have thought …’

‘I suppose you bank in Piazza Pitti like all the other artisans around here?’

‘Yes—I won’t believe it. Whatever you find out, I won’t believe it of Esposito. She knew him better than anybody—better than you, if you’ll excuse me saying so—and she trusted him. That’s enough for me.’ His colour was bad. He was holding his chest now.

The marshal laid a steadying hand on his shoulder, ‘Think about your health.’

‘If he killed her, I’ll never trust anything or anybody again, and especially not myself. If he killed her …’

Santini looked at the marshal. ‘He didn’t, did he?’

‘I don’t know. Go back in there and break it up. I have to get on.’

He left them.

Money. But Esposito? He wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t convinced at all, but he was going on along this same road because, wherever it led, he knew it was the right road and he remained calm and clear-headed. He hadn’t even forgotten that he had intended to mention Giovanni’s birthday supper to Lapo. He could telephone later. Now he must speak to Captain Maestrangelo and then get to the bank.

‘A warrant?’ The captain looked relieved. Was that because the marshal in his present mood annoyed him? Or because he, too, was concerned to clear Esposito’s name? He would never say, and what did it matter?

‘You’re on to something, then.’

‘No. Yes. It’s about money. I want a search warrant to look into Peruzzi’s accounts.’

‘Peruzzi’s accounts … ? Do you have evidence of some irregularity on his part? You’ve been in touch with the Finance Police?’

‘No. He told me he never bothered with bank stuff, you see. He left his son, who’s an accountant, to fill in his tax returns and so on but it was Akiko who deposited his money.’

‘That’s all very well but he was running a business. There must have been day-to-day matters—’

‘Akiko. Akiko was the one who did that. He wanted her to take over as manager one day. He was ill. She went to the bank, with the week’s takings, every Friday. That’s where she was going the last time he saw her.’

‘Then you suspect her?’

‘No.’

‘No? Then what’s all this about?’

‘If I did suspect her, that would be reason enough for a warrant, wouldn’t it.’ He stared hard at the captain, willling him to do it.

‘I understand. And your real reason?’

‘It’s about money. I don’t know … I need to have those accounts. I came to you rather than asking the prosecutor myself. You’ll explain better, get it done quickly. I’m going to the bank now. Lorenzini can collect the warrant and follow me. Excuse me … I want to catch the manager before he leaves.’ As he reached the door, he paused a moment. ‘Esposito’s body?’

‘I’ve tried but I really don’t think—you could talk to Forli. He might have an unofficial chat with whoever in Rome does the autopsy.’

‘That’s not … No, no.’

But in the car going back across the river to the bank, he did call Forli, just because it was something he could do, some way of not losing time. He felt like he’d felt in his dream as Akiko drifted away from him and his legs felt like they were made of lead.

‘I wanted you to do the autopsy …’ What could he say? Because you would talk to the dead man whose handsome face looked two different ways … He was too tired to think of any sort of reason at all.

Luckily, Forli was never too concerned about the other half of any conversation. ‘I’ll make a call to Rome, if you like, but you already know the only two things that matter: that he killed himself in Rome, for a start. We get a lot of these cases in a year, you know that. They’re invariably on Shakespearean lines, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I’m sorry, I …’

‘Romeo didn’t pop off to Rome to stab himself, when he found his girl dead, did he? His body was found with Juliet’s in that tomb in Verona. And Othello didn’t murder his Desdemona and then rush off to Rome to stab himself ! Well, did he?’

‘No.’ What was this about? Verdi, at least, he could cope with. He tried to stop Forli rushing on. ‘No. He killed himself in Desdemona’s bedroom.’

‘In Venice. Exactly. You must have dealt with a good few of these lovers’ murder-suicide type cases.’

‘One or two. You’re right, of course. But you said I knew two things. That he killed himself in Rome—’

‘And that he killed himself at all! Exactly! People don’t commit suicide because of something distressing that happens to them—the human race would die out at that rate—they commit suicide because they’re suicidal. Are his parents alive?’

‘His father’s dead.’

‘Find out how. When you brought Esposito to my office before we’d identified the girl’s body he’d didn’t look too chipper—I remember looking closely at him, trying to remember who he was but once we were talking technical details he perked up no end and he’d have stayed around to see her lungs, if you’d let him. Think about that. We didn’t know who she was then but if he killed her, he did, right? I can’t imagine what good my doing the autopsy would be. He put a bullet through his brain with his own Beretta, as I heard it. What more do you want to know? You’d do better to talk to his family doctor.’

‘His family doctor?’

‘Or his mother. There’ll be a history there. A brilliant student but too intense. None of the resilience you need in your line of work. “Let me have men about me that are fat, sleek-headed men and such as sleep a-nights.” Like your good self, Marshal, eh?’

Fat … ? Overweight he admitted to, but he wasn’t exactly fat. Solid, Teresa had once said, hugging him and laughing at him. Fat … that was a bit rude. The bit about sleeping at nights … chance’d be a fine thing. His vision, as he got out of the car in Piazza Pitti, was blurred with tiredness.

‘Wait for me here—no.’ Tread carefully, do things right, pay attention to every detail. Tiredness mustn’t spoil things now. ‘You can’t park here in this heat. Go back up to the station and wait for me in the shade. I’ll walk up.’

‘Thanks, Marshal.’

The bank was closed to customers at that hour. He rang the bell. It was very quiet inside. The counter clerks were doing their accounts.

The marshal banked here himself and though it was always Teresa who went in, he knew the manager in the Piazza Pitti branch to say good morning to. He was an affable sort but he seemed worried, though not about Akiko.

‘Peruzzi, yes … Come into my office. Make yourself comfortable. I’m glad to see you, Marshal, I don’t mind telling you, because somebody’s got to talk some sense into him. I know his son’s tried and I’ve written him letter after letter. It can’t go on—and what’s he spending it on, that’s what I want to know? It wasn’t too bad up to the time he had his heart attack, though he was always over-drawn, but now he’s spending like there’s no tomorrow. Having said that … perhaps that’s what he really feels. They say he actually died—that his heart stopped—and that he doesn’t look too good now.’

‘No. No, he doesn’t.’

‘I’m in a difficult position. Peruzzi’s an institution in this Quarter, you know that. I’ve been as elastic as is possible. Overdraft, bigger overdraft, occasional loans—and we’re covering his utility bills and debit card withdrawals, and so on, his basic necessities, but I’m getting flak from above at this point. They don’t understand that if I give up on Peruzzi I’ll risk losing all the other artisans who bank here. They’re good clients, steady, our core customers. You understand me.’

‘Yes. I need to see his transactions for May.’

‘His transactions … ? Pardon me, but … I was assuming his son had asked you to have a word. I can’t—’

‘No. I’ve asked for a warrant. I expect my second in command to arrive here with it any minute.’ The captain wouldn’t let him down. ‘This is a murder inquiry. Peruzzi’s apprentice was murdered in the Boboli Gardens on the twenty-first of May. She left the workshop that day, a Friday, to come here and deposit the week’s takings. I need to know if she arrived here so …’

‘A murder inquiry? I hadn’t heard anything—it’s true I’ve been away for two weeks’ holiday …’

‘It’s not likely you’d have heard anything if you had been here. It barely made it into the news. We weren’t able to identify her for a while. She had no documents in her bag and she had no money, no cheques and no receipt from this bank, either. But Peruzzi tells me she was coming here.’

‘She was. She did come. It wasn’t long before I went on holiday. I wouldn’t be likely to forget it. I’d been worried about Peruzzi’s financial situation, as I said, and since he never answered my letters—apparently he dumps anything from the bank on his son without even opening it—and since the son himself had told me he couldn’t bring his father to his senses, I warned my staff to look out for the Japanese apprentice and send her in to see me.’

‘So you spoke to her that morning?’

‘I certainly did—oh, there wasn’t a lot I could tell her because of confidentiality but, frankly, she was my last hope. His debts were such that I was faced with the prospect of foreclosing on his mortgage.’

‘Mortgage … I thought he owned everything—surely, it was his father’s before him? At least, so I’ve always heard.’

‘You’re right. They’ve been shoemakers for generations and certainly owned the place. He remortgaged about eight months ago.’

‘Eight months …’ After his heart attack. All the images in the marshal’s head were shifting, changing, going in and out of focus. He felt he was back where he started but with one difference. Not love but money …

‘The son can’t have been too pleased. I know he had no interest in taking over the business, let alone learning the trade, but it was his inheritance that was being spent, after all. How did he seem to you to be taking it?’

‘Surprisingly well. Each time he came to see me about some bigger overdraft, loans, the remortgage, he was worried but never angry. After Peruzzi’s illness, when things got suddenly worse, he said to me that his father had a very limited time left and that made it understandable that he should want to live life to the full. I tried to help him, discreetly. I said to him:

—I could refuse him this remortgage, you know. It’s not a good idea and you have power of attorney. If you think …

—How can I refuse my father anything? He may only have months to live. Besides, if I refuse him what he wants he’ll just take the power of attorney away, probably even quarrel with me, too. He has quite a temper. No, it’s out of the question.

‘Of course, when all’s said and done, he’s very comfortably off himself. He doesn’t bank here—his offices are on the other side of the river in via de’ Servi—but, frankly, an accountant with offices in via de’ Servi and a home address on the Lungarno is doing well. And he has his father to thank for it. His father, after all, encouraged him to go to university, never complained that he didn’t follow the family tradition.’