Dressed for Death (33 page)

‘That there is some irregularity
pertaining to my tenancy.’

Brunetti glanced across at
Vianello and saw the sergeant raise his eyes towards the ceiling. Not only the
Milano accent but now big words to go with it.

‘What makes you believe this
insinuation has been made, Professore?’ Brunetti asked.

‘Well, why else would your police
push their way into my apartment and demand that I produce rent receipts?’ As
the professor spoke, his wife was busy running her eyes around the office.

‘ “Push”, Professore?’ Brunetti
asked in a conversational voice. ‘ “Demand”?’ Then, to Vianello, ‘Sergeant, how
did you gain access to the property to which the professor has ...’ he paused, ‘tenancy?’

‘The maid let me in, sir.’

‘And what did you tell the maid
who let you in, Sergeant?’

‘That I wanted to speak to
Professore Ratti.’

‘I see,’ Brunetti said and turned
his attention back to Ratti. ‘And how was the “demand” made, Professore?’

‘Your sergeant asked to see my
rent receipts, as if I’d keep such things around.’

‘You are not in the habit of
keeping receipts, Professore?’

Ratti waved a hand, and his wife
gave Brunetti a look of studied surprise, as if to suggest what an enormous
waste of time it would be to keep a record of a sum so small.

‘And what would you do if the
owner of the apartment were ever to claim that you had not paid the rent? What
proof would you offer?’ Brunetti asked.

This time, Ratti’s gesture was
meant to dismiss the possibility of that ever happening, while his wife’s look
was meant to suggest that no one would ever think of questioning her husband’s
word.

‘Could you tell me just how you
pay your rent, Professore?’

‘I don’t see how that is any
business of the police,’ Ratti said belligerently. ‘I’m not used to being
treated like this.’

‘Like what, Professore?’ Brunetti
asked with real curiosity.

‘Like a suspect.’

‘Have you been treated like a
suspect before, by other police, that would make you familiar with what it feels
like?’

Ratti half rose in his seat and
glanced over at his wife. ‘I don’t have to put up with this. A friend of mine
is a city councillor.’ She made a slight gesture with her hand, and he slowly
sat back down.

‘Could you tell me how you pay
your rent, Professore Ratti?’

Ratti looked directly at
Brunetti. ‘I deposit the rent at the Banca di Verona.’

‘At San Bartolomeo?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how much is that rent,
Professore?’

‘It’s nothing,’ the professor
said, dismissing the sum.

‘Is two hundred and twenty
thousand lire the sum?’

‘Yes.’

Brunetti nodded. ‘And the
apartment, how many square metres is it?’

Signora Ratti interrupted here,
as if driven past her power to put up with such idiocy. ‘We have no idea of
that. It’s adequate for our needs.’

Brunetti pulled the list of the
apartments held in trust by the Lega towards him and flipped to the third page,
then ran his finger down the list until he came to Ratti’s name. ‘Three hundred
and twelve square metres, I think. And six rooms. Yes, I suppose that would be
adequate for most needs.’

Signora Ratti was on him in a
flash. ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

Brunetti turned a level glance on
her. ‘Just what I said, Signora, and no more. That six rooms ought to be
adequate for two - there are only two of you, aren’t there?’

‘And the maid,’ she answered.

‘Three, then,’ Brunetti agreed. ‘Still
adequate.’ He turned away from her, face unchanged, and returned his attention
to her husband. ‘How was it that you came to be given one of the apartments of
the Lega, Professore?’

‘It was very simple,’ Ratti
began, but it seemed to Brunetti that he had begun to bluster. ‘I applied for
it in the normal fashion, and I was given it.’

‘To whom did you apply?’

‘To the Lega della Moralità, of
course.’

‘And how did you happen to learn
that the Lega had apartments which it rented?’

‘It’s common knowledge here in
the city, isn’t it, Commissario?’

‘If it is not now, then it soon
will be, Professore.’

Neither of the Rattis said
anything to this, but Signora Ratti glanced quickly at her husband and then
back at Brunetti.

‘Do you remember anyone in
particular who told you about the apartments?’

Both of them answered instantly, ‘No.’

Brunetti allowed himself the
bleakest of smiles. ‘You seem very sure of that.’ He made a meaningless
squiggle against their name on the list. ‘And did you have an interview in
order to obtain this apartment?’

‘No,’ Ratti said. ‘We filled out
the paperwork and sent it in. And then we were told that we had been selected.’

‘Did you receive a letter, or
perhaps a phone call?’

‘It’s been so long ago. I don’t
remember,’ Ratti said. He turned to his wife for confirmation, and she shook her
head.

‘And you’ve been in this
apartment for two years now?’

Ratti nodded.

‘And you haven’t saved any of the
receipts for the rent you’ve paid?’

This time his wife shook her
head.

‘Tell me, Professore, how much
time do you spend in the apartment each year?’

He thought about this for a
moment. ‘We come for Carnevale.’

His wife finished his sentence
with a firm, ‘Of course.’

Her husband continued. ‘Then we
come for September, and sometimes for Christmas.’

His wife broke in here and added,
‘We come for the odd weekend during the rest of the year, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Brunetti repeated. ‘And
the maid?’

‘We bring her with us from
Milano.’

‘Of course,’ Brunetti nodded and
added another squiggle to the paper in front of him.

‘May I ask you, Professore, if
you are familiar with the purposes of the Lega? With its goals?’

‘I know that it aims at moral
improvement,’ the professor answered in a tone that declared there could never
be too much of
that.

‘Ah, yes,’ Brunetti said, then
asked, ‘But beyond that, to its purpose in renting apartments?’

This time, it was Ratti who
glanced at his wife. ‘I think their purpose was to attempt to give the
apartments to those they considered worthy of them.’

Brunetti continued, ‘Knowing
this, Professore, did it at any time seem strange to you that the Lega, which
is a Venetian organization, had given one of the apartments it controls to a
person from Milano, a person who would, moreover, make use of the apartment
only a few months of the year?’ When Ratti said nothing, Brunetti urged him, ‘Surely,
you know how difficult it is to find an apartment in this city?’

Signora Ratti chose to answer
this. ‘I suppose we believed that they wanted to give an apartment like this to
people who would know how to appreciate it and care for it.’

‘By that are you suggesting that
you would be better able to care for a large and desirable apartment than
would, for example, the family of a carpenter from Cannaregio?’

‘I think that goes without
saying,’ she answered.

‘And who, if I might ask, pays
for repairs to the apartment?’ Brunetti asked.

Signora Ratti smiled and
answered, ‘So far, there has been no need to make any repairs.’

‘But surely there must be a
clause in your contract - if you were given a contract - which makes clear who
is responsible for repairs.’

‘They are,’ Ratti answered.

‘The Lega?’ Brunetti asked.

‘Yes.’

‘So then maintenance is not the
responsibility of the people who rent?’

‘No.’

‘And you are there for - ‘
Brunetti began and then glanced down at the paper in front of him, as though he
had the number written there,’ - for about two months a year?’ When Ratti said
nothing, Brunetti asked, ‘Is that correct, Professore?’

His question was rewarded with a
grudging, ‘Yes.’

In a gesture he made consciously
identical to the one used by the priest who taught catechism to his
grammar-school class, Brunetti folded his hands neatly in front of him, just
short of the bottom of the sheet of paper on his desk, and said, ‘I think it is
time to begin making choices, Professore.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Then perhaps I can explain it to
you. The first choice is that I have you repeat this conversation and your
answers to my questions into a tape recorder or that we have a secretary come
in and take it down in shorthand. Either way, I would ask you to sign a copy of
that statement, ask both of you to sign it, since you are telling me the same
thing.’ Brunetti paused long enough for that to register. ‘Or you could, and I
suggest this is by far the wiser course, begin to tell me the truth.’ Both
feigned surprise, Signora Ratti going so far as to add outrage.

‘In either case,’ Brunetti added
calmly, ‘the least that will happen to you is that you will lose the apartment,
though that might take some time to happen. But you will lose it; that is
little, but it is certain.’ He found it interesting that neither demanded that
he explain what he was talking about.

‘It is clear that many of these
apartments have been rented illegally and that someone associated with the Lega
has been collecting rents illegally for years.’ When Professore Ratti began to
object, Brunetti raised a hand for an instant, then quickly folded his fingers
back together. ‘Were it only a case of fraud, then perhaps you would be better
advised to continue to maintain that you know nothing about all of this. But,
unfortunately, it is far more than a case of fraud.’ He paused here. He’d have
it out of them, by God.

‘What is it a case of?’ Ratti
asked, speaking more softly than he had since he entered Brunetti’s office.

‘It is a case of murder. Three
murders, one of them a member of the police. I tell you this so that you will
begin to realize that we are not going to let this go. One of our own has been
killed, and we are going to find out who did that. And punish them.’ He paused
a moment to let that sink in.

‘If you persist in maintaining
your current story about the apartment, then you will eventually become
involved in a prosecution for murder.’

‘We know nothing about murder,’
Signora Ratti said, voice sharp.

‘You do now, Signora. Whoever is
at the back of this plan to rent the apartments is also responsible for the
three murders. By refusing to help us discover who is responsible for renting
you your apartment and collecting your rent each month, you are also
obstructing a murder investigation. The penalty for that, I need not remind
you, is far more severe than for being evasive in a case involving fraud. And I
add, but quite at the personal level, that I will do everything in my power to
see that it is imposed upon you if you continue to refuse to help us.’