Drawing Conclusions - Donna Leon [50]
‘Remember, Signore, the only habitual liar I have to deal with is Lieutenant Scarpa, so I’ve really not developed the skill. Maddalena has,’ she said. Once again, with her embedded comment on the Lieutenant, she had left Brunetti uncertain how to deal with her criticism of a superior.
‘If you think I shouldn’t talk to her, then how can I ask her about Signora Altavilla?’ he asked, preferring to avoid the subject of Lieutenant Scarpa.
She smiled at his question and said, ‘I’m afraid we’ve been talking at cross-purposes, Commissario. I’m not suggesting that you don’t speak to her. Just that you don’t lie to her. If you treat her honestly, then she’ll do the same.’
‘You know her that well?’ he asked.
‘No. But I know people who do.’
‘I see,’ he said, choosing not to enquire about that, either. He pulled the piece of paper towards him, held up a hand to stop her from getting to her feet, and dialled the number.
On the third ring, a women answered with a neutral, ‘Sì?’
‘Signora Orsoni,’ he said, ‘this is Commissario Guido Brunetti.’ He gave her a chance to ask, as many people would, why the police were calling, but she said nothing.
‘I’m calling about someone who worked for your organization, Alba Libera.’ Again, she said nothing. ‘Costanza Altavilla.’
This time Brunetti determined not to say anything else and waited until she asked, ‘In what way can I be useful to you, Commissario?’ Her voice was low, with no indication of age, nor was there a discernible accent. She was a woman who spoke precise Italian and that was all he could judge.
‘I’d like to talk to you about Signora Altavilla.’
‘For what purpose?’ she asked, sounding neutral, curious, but nothing more.
Burning his bridges, Brunetti said, ‘To see if there is reason to take a closer look at her death.’
Her response was delayed a few moments, but then she asked, voice still revealing nothing, ‘Does that mean that the press report was wrong and it wasn’t a heart attack, Commissario?’
‘No, there’s no question that the heart attack was the cause of her death,’ he said. Then, when that had registered, he added, ‘I’m curious about the possible circumstances of the heart attack.’
He glanced at Signorina Elettra, who did her best to give every appearance of taking no extraordinary interest in his side of the conversation.
‘And you’d like to speak to me?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not in the city at the moment,’ she said.
‘When will you be back?’
‘Perhaps tomorrow.’
‘And if I told you it was urgent that I speak to you?’ Brunetti asked.
‘I’d say what I’m doing is also urgent,’ she said, not offering an explanation.
Stalemate. ‘Then I’ll call you again,’ Brunetti said, quite pleasantly, as if he were inviting her to lunch.
‘Good,’ she said and hung up.
He replaced the phone, looked at Signorina Elettra, and said, ‘Too busy to see me.’
‘I’m told she is not one to undervalue herself, Maddalena,’ she said.
15
‘You’ve read the reports?’ Brunetti asked, his interest in and respect for her habit of reading all official documents with attention and scepticism overcoming any scruples he might have about her civilian status.
Signorina Elettra nodded.
‘And?’
‘The technicians were thorough,’ she said. Brunetti thought it best to forgo comment, which encouraged her to add, ‘The marks on her throat and back and the trauma to her back caught my attention.’
‘And mine,’ Brunetti said, deciding to follow the path of caution and say nothing about what Rizzardi had told him in private.
Her look was sharp, but her voice was calm when she said, ‘What a pity such things fail to rouse the doctor’s.’
‘That’s usually the case,’ Brunetti admitted.
‘Indeed.’ From her inflection, he had no idea if she were making a statement or asking a question about Rizzardi’s opinion. She continued: ‘You spoke to the nuns at the casa di cura in Bragora.’ This time there was no doubt about the question.
‘Yes.’
‘And?’ she asked, showing that two could play at Monosyllable.
‘And the nun with whom I spoke