—Oh, no … an abortion, no. She must have known that wasn’t the answer.
—Yes, I think she did. Her friend in Rome said she was upset. Very upset.
—Hours and hours she sat there working and tears were dropping on her hands. Hours and hours … And no wonder. She couldn’t tell me. A girl needs her mother …
‘Hmph.’ The marshal didn’t go into that.
Now, Peruzzi remained still and silent, looking down at his hands. The other men turned their attention back to the marshal’ story.
Lapo’s wife, in her white apron and cook’s hat, was leaning against the doorway of the lighted kitchen, listening too.
‘He was missing for some days. That was because Akiko’s friend—whose name is Toshimitsu—was away. He’d gone to Tokyo for a wedding. Esposito hung around in Rome, waiting. We don’t know yet where he stayed.
When Toshimitsu got back he tried to calm Esposito down but it did no good.’
‘So why did he kill himself ?’
‘Out of remorse, of course! Because he killed her, didn’t he?’
‘You don’t know that! How can you know that?’
‘He wanted to marry her, for God’s sake. You don’t suddenly up and murder somebody when you want to marry them!’
‘What about her threatening an abortion? What about that? Any man would be upset. That could have done it, am I right, Marshal?’
‘How can he know that? Whose child was it, that’s the point.’
‘Come on! We knew Akiko!’
‘You hadn’t eaten a kilo of salt with her, as they say. You never know with people—I mean, what about this chap, whats-his-name, in Rome. How do we know it wasn’t his, if she went running to him?’
‘Shut up!’
‘I’m just saying, that’s all. She wouldn’t be the first—’
‘Shut up!’
The marshal let them shout until one particular nuisance—a man in glasses whom he’d never seen before and who had clearly never spoken a word to Akiko—had been silenced.
‘After that, Esposito boarded the Naples train … yesterday morning.’ It seemed so long ago but it was only yesterday. It didn’t seem real, either, when he tried to tell it, because it felt more like he was recounting his nightmare.
‘The train had been travelling for something like ten minutes when, according to witnesses, Esposito left his seat very suddenly. His fellow passengers said he looked wretched, as though he were going to be sick. Somebody said:
—We thought maybe he had a hangover, that he was still drunk, even, because he looked as though he didn’t know where he was.
‘They all remembered that he made a sort of noise as he lurched out of his seat. Some said he was starting to vomit and others said it was more like a groan or a sob. He locked himself into the lavatory. A lot of people heard the shot. There was blood coming out under the door. Somebody pulled the emergency cord. It took some time before the door was broken down. He’d shot himself in the face. They couldn’t do anything to help him. He was already dead.’
When the marshal stopped speaking, there was silence. Seeing that they were moved and knowing that their defence would be some cynical crack that would break the spell, he filled the silence himself. ‘Esposito was the only son of a widow, so you can imagine that she … I shouldn’t be telling you any of this so don’t, for God’s sake, tell anybody you heard it from me because I’ll deny it. Are we clear on that?’
The critical moment passed and they were soon shouting each other down about who had seen Esposito and who hadn’t.
‘No, no, no! Ask Peruzzi. His hair was black.’
‘I’m telling you I saw him waiting for her outside the workshop.’
‘You saw no such thing. He only ever showed up here once and that was when she’d already disappeared. Am I right, Peruzzi?’
‘Yes. The day before the marshal came round, asking the same questions.’
‘So that was the day I saw him.’
‘Well, he wasn’t waiting for Akiko then, was he, since she’d already gone!’
‘How was I to know who he was waiting for? I’m just saying I saw him, that’s all. I’m just saying. I think he was wearing a leather overcoat.’
‘What leather overcoat? What leather overcoat? In May! He was in uniform, Peruzzi said. You’re talking rubbish! Shut up, for Christ’s sake!’
There was always somebody ready to be convinced they’d seen whatever ought to have been seen, especially if there was the chance of saying it on the television news. The self-styled witness had a raucous voice but the others formed a chorus to shout him down and the small room rang with their din. Lapo’s wife retreated into her kitchen. The marshal made no attempt to restore order and quiet. He only ducked his head below the level of all the shouting faces and gesticulating arms to catch the eye of Santini who was sitting in silence behind a table a little to his right.
The marshal spoke in almost a whisper to make himself heard below the shouting. ‘You saw him, didn’t you?’
Did Santini hear or lip-read? In either case he nodded.
‘In uniform?’
The marshal signalled to him and touched Peruzzi’s arm. They moved into the front room which was just as small but where there was daylight and they could distance themselves from the strident polemic.
‘So you two are the only ones to have seen Esposito, the day before I came round asking about Akiko. Is that right? And you said to me yesterday morning, didn’t you, Santini, that he was in uniform.’
‘Yes, but he didn’t speak to me. I just saw him go into Peruzzi’s.’
‘And you, Peruzzi, you were so angry with me that first time because I came asking the same questions he’d already asked: I don’t know where she is! How many more of you do I have to tell? Isn’t that what you shouted at me?’
‘I don’t remember. She’d gone and I was angry.’
‘But you told him she might be in Rome, or even Tokyo, like you said?’
‘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 m
eet 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 m
arshal 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.’
The Innocent Page 15