The Marshal and the Madwoman (20 page)

The effect was gratifying but dangerous. Not for nothing had the Marshal sat as far away as possible and even now he was more than glad that the man couldn't read, for he shot bolt upright and made a grab for the papers which the Marshal thrust back into the envelope so fast as to crumple them badly.

Bruti flung himself back on the bed with such a volley of foul language that the young Carabiniere outside opened the grille to find out what was up.

'It's all right.' The Marshal waved him away and the grille slid back. 'Well, that's what I came to tell you, for what it's worth. If you want to defend yourself, you ought to know what he's accusing you of. According to him, he sent you round to see Clementina on some business, quite innocent business, to do with the flat, and when you saw a half-crazy woman living alone, knowing how much money she had stashed away, you went back there one night and—'

'That's rubbish. He can't get away with that! The old bag hadn't a penny!'

'You mean you had a good look round after you'd done it and didn't find any? But that won't save you because she did have money, plenty of it, so who's going to believe you weren't hoping to find it? You've been taken for a ride, Bruti, so you'd better get it into your head and start getting a better story together. You see, he says you told him what you'd done, told him in detail, and some of those details he could only have got from you. They weren't in the paper. You see what I mean. You've no hope of getting ofF with him as a witness against you, and all you're doing by keeping your mouth shut is making sure that he comes out of it as an innocent man who's been good enough to help us with our inquiries. You've been made a fool of, but I suppose it's no more than you deserve, when all's said and done. How did you bring yourself to do it? You've got a record of violence, I know that, but this was different. You killed a defenceless old woman in cold blood—and, as far as you knew, it was just because he needed to sell the house and couldn't get her out.'

'I was supposed to get paid, wasn't I? What he wanted was his business. In any case she was too soft in the head to know any different—he hadn't even paid her her full pension for years. Gave her some cock-and-bull story about a new law and that they'd put her away if she complained. She thought he was doing her a favour letting her have half of it, the crazy old bag! People like that
should
be locked up —she even hit me in the face with a brush when I went round there. I'm glad I did for her and I'll do the same for him if he tries to do me down with his fancy lawyers! Never mind that crazy old bag, what about me? Eh? What about number one?'

'That's right,' the Marshal said, 'you get thinking about number one, because the Prosecutor's on his way here.'

'Well, tell him! Tell him it's all lies. Tell him
he
sent me round there to threaten the old biddy and try and get money from that couple with the kid to pay for the work on the facade that he couldn't find the wherewithal for! Tell him—'

'Tell him yourself,' the Marshal said, 'I'm not interested.' And this time he was telling the truth. The only thing he wanted to know now was the man's name and where to find him. And that, after the trick he'd just pulled, he couldn't ask.

He met the Prosecutor at the top of the stairs.

'Ah ... So you've talked to him. I'm afraid we'll get nothing out of him. I've made out a warrant for breaking and entering which will at least keep him with us for the moment.'

'You can make out another,' the Marshal said, 'for murder.'

'For . . .?'

'He's confessed, more or less. But you'd best leave it until tomorrow. And I'll need another warrant.'

He wasn't conscious of the fact that he was virtually giving the Prosecutor orders. If the Prosecutor himself was aware of it he made no protest. The man who had once complained at the 'blank incomprehension of the man' now only stared uncertainly at the Marshal, who said, 'I might need it tonight, that other warrant. . .' as though to himself.

'I see. In whose name?"

'I don't know.'

'You don't—'

'I could find out tomorrow when the Registry reopens but he always gets one step ahead of me, and this time I have to be one step ahead of him or he'll slip through my fingers. I have to find him tonight. Leave Bruti until tomorrow. I'll be in touch . . .' And he went plodding slowly away, breathing a bit heavily after the stairs. The expression on the Prosecutor's face remained fixed in his mind as something connected with the return of the keys but he didn't think about it. And when the Prosecutor called after him, 'How is that boy . . .?' he didn't even hear but turned the corner and went on his way. If anyone had been capable of breaking in on his mood and demanding to know where he was going and just what he intended to do about putting his hands on a nameless man of unknown whereabouts, he wouldn't have had an answer. But nobody was capable of breaking his mood, not even when he found himself, for no clearly defined reason, back at his Station and discovered the weeping girl plying her handkerchief in the waiting-room. He showed her into his office and sat down, prepared to listen patiently, his big eyes staring at her without really seeing her.

'In another two weeks it would have been all right—at least I'd have had time to look round for something but Laura says I ought to get out right away and not be involved and, in any case, he'll sack me now, for sure. Laura's left already. The minute she got back from her holidays this morning she emptied her desk drawers and went, but she's got a husband so it's all very well, she doesn't need a permit —but if I get involved in all this, even though it's not my fault, they'll never give me one. If only it could have happened in another two weeks! Laura's husband's in the trade, that's how he guessed what was going on and he made her leave, but what am I supposed to do?'

Slowly and with great impatience, the Marshal began to untangle this knot of garbled information. As usual, no sobs interrupted the girl's flowing lament but huge tears rolled down her cheeks as she talked and the handkerchief rolled up in her hand was soaked. He gave her his, which was soon reduced to the same condition.

'Why in two weeks?'

'Because my two-month trial period would have been up and he'd have had to take me on permanently.'

'But you don't like it there.'

'I know, but then I could have left.'

'You want to be taken on permanently so you can leave?'

'Yes. And now what am I going to do? How can I manage now?'

He went through his pockets looking for another handkerchief. There wasn't one but he found a packet of paper tissues in a drawer and pushed the lot across the desk to her.

'Thank you. You're the only person who can help me. I don't know where else to turn.'

By this time he'd worked it out. 'Is it your police permit that's the trouble?'

'Of course. That's what I'm saying. If he takes me on—'

'I see. To get a five-year permit to stay in the country you need to prove you've got a permanent job and can support yourself.'

'My temporary one's going to run out—they gave it to me to cover my trial period and then I'm supposed to take a letter to the Questura from
him
saying I'm employed—'

'All right. Well, that's not the end of the world. You'll just have to get another job and another temporary permit and start all over again.'

'But they won't give me any sort of permit when all this comes out! And even if I do what Laura says and walk out now the police will still catch up with me, won't they? They'll think I'm involved although I didn't know anything about it until Laura's husband—'

'This Laura—I take it she's someone in your office—just what did she tell you?'

'About what he's up to! When I told her how he'd screamed at me about the labels. She told her husband and
he
knew right away what was going on and said he's not the only one doing it by a long way and that he's heard people are after him for payment and if it comes to a head then the whole thing will come out. To think he's been taking it all out on me, that's what's so awful! How could I have known about those stupid buttons? I had an order for three thousand pieces to—'

'Signorina, will you explain what exactly you think he's "up to"?'

'It's the labels.'

'Not the buttons?'

'The buttons have to be changed, that's the whole point! I've felt ill all day just thinking about it. The doctor's given me antibiotics and he says it could be a virus but he doesn't know what I'm going through.'

'Would you like a cup of coffee?'

'No. Yes. I could do with smoking a cigarette if you wouldn't mind.'

'Go ahead.'

He got up and asked Di Nuccio to bring some coffee and then let her ramble on until it arrived before trying again.

'What exactly is the problem with these labels?'

'They say "Made in Italy" and they're not.'

'The labels?'

'The clothes. They're made in Taiwan or some such place. I don't know where. It's fraud, Laura's husband says. There's a law against it.'

'There is.'

'So it's true, then. And he thinks he can get away with it by having the clothes finished off in Italy, so he gets the buttons sewn on here. Only this time the manufacturers made a mistake and sent the stuff with buttons already on and I didn't know it was serious, how could I? The order was late so—'

'All right. Drink your coffee, it's getting cold.'

'Now I've got his wretched buttons changed and the order's so late the buyers rang up from Germany this morning and refused to take it. He'll sack me.'

'Well, for the moment he's away, isn't he?'

'He rings up every day. And he's been back I don't know how many times, rushing in and screaming abuse at me and then dashing back to his bitch of a wife at the seaside. If you ask me, she's the cause of all the trouble. After all, the business is in her name. Women like that make me sick. They never do a stroke of work themselves, they always find somebody else to slave for them. Anyway, the way things are going she'll have to find some other mug because that cancelled order will be the last straw. Laura does the accounts, or she did, and she says so. If he goes bankrupt, what will happen to me?

'Nothing, Signorina.'

'If I leave, like Laura says, before the crash, it might look as if I'm running away because I'm involved in the fraud, but if I wait till he sacks me it'll be that much more difficult to get another job, so what shall I do?'

'Nothing.'

'How can I do nothing?'

'Go home and get a good night's sleep. Then go on with your work as best you can and start looking for another job. Nothing will happen within two weeks even if he is going to go bankrupt. If you then get your full permit, well and good. If not, then I'll write you a letter for the Questura which will help you get another temporary one until things get sorted out.'

'But he could still sack me because of this order.'

'Well, if that happens—'

'I'll come and tell you right away.'

'All right. . . you come and tell me. Now you must excuse me.' He got to his feet.

'I'll tell you right away. I'll go back to the office now and see how things are. He may have turned up.'

'All right.'

'And then I'll ring you.'

He managed to get her out of the door and she went on her way still weeping.

'Di Nuccio!'

'Marshal?'

'Get me those people who telephoned earlier . . . the Tenants' Association.'

'Right away.'

More people's problems. And yet, all the time, in the back of his mind was the one thought: By the end of the day I have to find him.

He picked up the phone as it started to ring.

'That number for you, Marshal. It's a Signora Betti.'

'Hello? Am I speaking to Marshal Guarnaccia?'

'Yes. Can I help you?'

'I rang earlier but you were out.'

'I know. I've already told Signora Rossi that I'm willing—'

'Oh, it's not about the Rossis—I'm more than grateful to you, of course, they're good people and deserve help—but I wouldn't be disturbing you for that. Didn't they tell you? I left a message saying it was urgent.'

'Yes, they told me.' Didn't she know that everyone who called here said it was urgent, be it a murder or a missing cat?

'It's about Signora Franci.'

'Clementina?'

'Yes, Clementina, as they called her. When I saw in the paper this morning that she'd been murdered it was a terrible shock. They said it was suicide before and knowing what newspapers are—well, first of all, is it true?'

'That she was murdered? Yes, it's true.'

'Then I did right to call you. I think I can help.'

'The owner of the house?'

'Exactly! Then you already know.'

'I'd very much like to hear what you know, beginning with his name.'

'Fantechi. Carlo Fantechi.'

'Thank you. And his address?'

'That I don't know, I'm afraid. We've been dealing through the agents who let the flats. They'll be closed at this time but if you get in touch with them in the morning they'll be able to tell you.'

But still the Marshal was convinced that he hadn't that much time to waste.

'What I'm really concerned about,' Signora Betti went on, 'is that I may be indirectly to blame for what happened.'

'You?'

'Yes. That's if my suspicions are justified. The trouble was that when she came to see me I couldn't make up my mind about her. She was very strange—well, I saw in the paper after it happened that she'd been in San Salvi but I didn't know that when I met her. I didn't know what to make of her, and that's the truth. There were moments when she seemed quite crazy, which made me wonder if she was telling me the truth, and yet every now and then she would give me such a sharp-eyed glance that I was at a loss. I don't know if I'm making sense to you.'

'You are.'

'Well, you probably know more about her than I do. She could have been making the whole thing up or it could have been true and she was exaggerating her own eccentricity. In the end I decided not to act until she produced some evidence. Judging by what happened to her, I'm afraid that was a terrible mistake. However, the story was a complicated one and I'm not sure, even now, what I should have done. I'll explain as briefly as I can. In the first place she came to me because, like the Rossi couple, she'd been threatened with eviction. When I asked her the terms of her rental contract she said she didn't have one. She said she didn't pay rent and had a right to the house for as long as she lived.'