Drawing Conclusions - Donna Leon [69]
‘You say you took her to the airport?’ he asked.
Displaying no surprise that her words had failed to deflect him, she said, ‘She left. I told you that.’
‘Why?’
‘Her husband was arrested.’
‘For what?’
‘Murder.’
‘Who?’
‘His lover.’
‘Ah,’ escaped Brunetti, but then he asked, ‘And so?’
‘And so she could go back to her home.’ Signora Orsoni’s tone made this sound like a simple choice, even an obvious one. Perhaps it was.
‘Who came then?’
He watched as she formulated an answer. ‘Another young woman, but she’d left before Costanza died.’
‘Tell me about her,’ Brunetti said.
‘There’s nothing to tell, really. Only what she told me.’ At Brunetti’s encouraging nod, she went on. ‘She’s from Padova. She was in university there, studying economics.’ She paused but Brunetti waited her out, and she added, ‘Her family’s very … traditional.’ When Brunetti did not respond to that word, she went on. ‘So when she told them she had a boyfriend,’ she began, then added, ‘who’s from Catania … they told her she had to choose between him and them.’ She shook her head at such things in this day and age. ‘So she chose the boyfriend and went to live with him.’
‘How did she get to Signora Altavilla?’ he asked, if only to show her that he had not been distracted by this story of the young woman, no matter how traditional her family.
‘She called our office in Treviso about three weeks ago. That was after the police said there was nothing they could do.’ She looked at Brunetti, who lifted his chin in enquiry. ‘The boyfriend. She said there was trouble from the start. That he was jealous. And violent: he roughed her up a few times, but she was afraid to call the police.’ She sighed and raised her hands and shoulders in exasperation.
‘This time she thought he was going to kill her: that’s what she told them. They were in the kitchen when it happened, and to protect herself she poured the pasta water on him.’ He thought she seemed unusually passive in describing this.
‘And?’
‘And she got out and called the police.’
‘What happened then?’
‘They went to the apartment to talk to him, but they didn’t do anything.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it was his word against hers. He said she had started the argument and all he’d tried to do was defend himself.’ Though she tried, she failed to disguise scorn of the police and anger at male prejudice as she recounted this. She went on, finally expressing an opinion, ‘Besides, she’s a woman and he’s a man.’ Brunetti was surprised she failed to add, ‘And he’s a Sicilian.’
In the face of Brunetti’s silence, she continued, ‘They were living in Treviso and, as I said, she called our office there. They thought she’d be safe here in the city: it’s far enough away.’
After considering what she had told him, Brunetti asked, ‘Did the police tell you this?’
Her features appeared to contract. ‘I spoke to someone in our office, and that’s what they told me.’
After some time, Brunetti asked, ‘Signora Altavilla helped you for several years, you said?’
It was evident that the question displeased her, but eventually she said, ‘Yes.’
‘Putting herself at some risk.’ When he saw her begin to protest, he added, ‘Theoretical risk. But she was still willing to do it.’
She nodded, looked away, then back at him.
‘This woman, you say she isn’t there any more,’ Brunetti said. ‘And there was no sign of her in the apartment.’
Again Signora Orsoni nodded.
‘Could she have gone back to the apartment?’
Voice level, emotionless, she said, ‘She had nothing to do with this.’
‘How do I know that’s true?’ he asked.
‘Because I’m telling you so.’
‘And if I choose not to believe you?’
As he waited for her to respond Brunetti saw the moment when she decided to leave, saw it in her eyes and then heard it as she drew her feet under her chair. He raised a hand to catch her attention.
‘Your organization is fairly well known, isn’t it?’ he asked mildly.
She smiled involuntarily at what she took to be a compliment. ‘I