Doctored Evidence by Donna Leon Page B

mean she’s sending and getting information via an address at a place where she hasn’t worked for years?’ At the second nod, Brunetti raised his voice. ‘It’s the national bank, for God’s sake. How can they allow a person who hasn’t worked there for years to use their address as if she still did?’
    â€˜I don’t think they would allow it, sir,’ Vianello agreed, then explained, ‘that is, if anyone there knew she was using it.’
    To continue with this conversation, Brunetti suddenly realized, would lead either to madness or, more dangerously, to criminalknowledge which, at some time in the future, he might have to deny under oath. But, unable to control his curiosity, he asked, ‘Did you find out?’
    â€˜Find out what?’
    â€˜How much was deposited?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Did she?’
    â€˜I assume so.’
    â€˜Why? Did she tell you?’
    â€˜No. She said it was privileged information, and I couldn’t have it unless I found it out myself.’
    Hearing this, the expression, ‘Honour among thieves’, did flit through Brunetti’s mind, but his admiration and respect caused him to swat it aside and return his attention to the matter at hand. ‘Then we have to ask her to do this?’
    â€˜I think so. Yes.’
    Together they got to their feet and, Vianello carrying the sheet of paper with the deciphered initials, they went downstairs to see if Signorina Elettra was in her office.
    She was, but unfortunately so was her immediate superior, Vice-Questore Giuseppe Patta, today wearing a cream linen suit with a black shirt, also of linen. His tie, of slate-coloured silk, had threads of the same colour as the suit running diagonally across it. Brunetti noticed, as he had failed to do earlier, that Signorina Elettra was wearing a black linen suit and a cream-coloured silk blouse. It occurred to him that, had the two of them planned this,Patta would probably have been motivated by emulation, she by parody.
    Seeing Vianello with a sheet of paper in his hand, Patta demanded, ‘What’s that, Inspector? Something to do with the Commissario’s nonsensical idea that that woman was not murdered by the Romanian?’
    â€˜No, Vice-Questore,’ a humbled Vianello said. ‘It’s a code I use for choosing teams for the Totocalcio.’ He brought the paper out from behind him and made as if to show it to Patta, saying, ‘You see, this first column is the code for the team name, and then here are the numbers of the players I think are going to . . .’
    â€˜That’s enough, Vianello,’ Patta said with undisguised irritation. Then, to Brunetti, ‘Unless you’re busy choosing your winning teams, too, Commissario, I’d like to have a word with you.’ He turned towards the door to his office.
    â€˜Of course, sir,’ said Brunetti and followed him, leaving Vianello to talk to Signorina Elettra.
    Patta went to his desk but didn’t invite Brunetti to sit, a good sign, for it meant the Vice-Questore was in a hurry. It was almost five: Patta would barely have time for the police launch to take him over to the Cipriani for a swim and get him home in time for dinner.
    â€˜I won’t keep you, Commissario. I want to remind you that this case is settled, regardless of what your ridiculous ideas about it might be,’ he began, not bothering to specify which of Brunetti’s ideas he found ridiculous and thusallowing himself the option of considering them all to be so. ‘The facts speak for themselves. The Romanian killed that poor old woman, tried to escape the country, and then gave clear proof of her guilt by trying to escape from a routine police inspection at the border.’ He put his hands together, making a steeple out of his fingers, and covered his mouth for a second with his forefingers, then separated them and said, ‘I don’t want the work of this