The Bellini Card

62

Brunelli returned to the Procuratie after a quick lunch, to find an anxious Scorlotti waiting for him in the office.

“Trouble, Scorlotti?”

“Vosper’s taken over the Barbieri case, Commissario. The chief told him it was a crime of passion.”

Brunelli sat down heavily at his desk and rubbed his eyes. He felt terribly tired.

“Thank you, Scorlotti.”

“Aren’t you-I mean, don’t you want to see the chief?”

Brunelli looked up. “Frankly, Scorlotti, no. He won’t be back from lunch for another hour or two, anyway.”

“Not today, sir. He’s in his office. Vosper thinks he’s found the murderer.”

“Well, that was quick. At least he ruled out suicide.”

Scorlotti grinned.

“So.” Brunelli clasped his hands in front of him and swiveled on his chair. “Who did it?”

“The American, apparently. Brett.”

“Ah, yes.” Brunelli nodded slowly. “Has he asked to see my notes on the case?”

“Not necessary, the chief says.”

“No. No, of course not.” He stood up. “If anyone asks for me-I don’t suppose they will, Scorlotti, but you never know-tell them I’ve gone for a walk.”

“Bene, Commissario.” Scorlotti hesitated. “It’s a mess, isn’t it, sir?”

“For Signor Brett, Scorlotti, it has the makings of a nightmare.”