Impatient eyebrows.
“The building was typical construction, symmetrical. For every window on the right, there was one on the left. For every gable in the front, there was one in the back. For every—”
“Ercole?”
“Ah, yes. But in the back, there was only one low window—about twenty centimeters high—for allowing light into the cellar apartment. To the right as you faced the rear of the building. Only the one. Why was there no window to the left? Symmetry everywhere but there. The yard itself was not higher on the left than to the right, except in the very place where the window would have been. There was a small hill. Now, beneath the porch were empty flower pots. They matched flower pots on the deck above—but those were full of earth.”
Rhyme was intrigued. “So the perp broke into the window on the left. It was Garry’s bedroom?”
“Yes. And he, or she, scattered the drugs inside and used the dirt in a couple of the pots to cover up the window.”
“But the crime scene people didn’t find glass or dirt on the floor?”
“Ah,” Ercole said. “He—or she—was clever. They used a glass cutter. Here, look.” He extracted from a folder some eight-by-ten glossy shots and displayed them. “Beatrice has printed these out.”
Rhyme could see the even fracture marks, in the shape of a rough rectangle.
Ercole continued, “And after he was finished he put a piece of cardboard he’d found in the yard against the open window before piling the dirt up to conceal the break-in. I am sorry to tell you there were no fingerprints on the flower pots or cardboard. But I did see marks that were left by…” He paused. “That were consistent with marks left by latex gloves.”
Good.
“And I found footprints that were probably left by the breakerer-and-enterer. Is that a word?”
“It will do.” Rhyme reflected that the young man had quite the career ahead of him.
Ercole added to the mini evidence chart.
Garry Soames’s apartment, Corso Umberto I, Naples
—Low window cut open. —No fingerprints, but marks consistent with latex gloves.
—Blocked by cardboard before dirt piled up to conceal break-in.
—Footprints outside broken window and on floor just inside. —Size 7? (m)/9 (f)/40 (European), leather sole.
—Gamma hydroxybutyric acid, date-rape drug.
—Tire print, in mud in backyard. —Continental 195/65R15.
—Soil collected from footprint. —Awaiting analysis.
“And the date-rape drug? Where was that?”
“On the windowsill.”
Staring at the chart, Rhyme mused, “Who the hell’s the intruder?”
The breakerer-and-enterer…
He continued, “Is it the same as the person who called the police and gave them Garry’s name? That was a woman’s voice. And the shoe size could be a woman’s.”
Ercole said, “I looked up the tire tread information. The Continental tire. We don’t know if it was the intruder’s but it was only a day or two old. And it makes sense to park there so as not to be seen from the street.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Unfortunately, many, many types of cars can use that tire. But we can—”
A voice interrupted, cutting through the room like a whip. “Forestry Officer. You’ll leave the room. At once.”
Rhyme wheeled about to face Dante Spiro. The lean man was wearing a black suit with a tie-less white shirt. With his goatee, bald head and enraged expression he looked particularly demonic.
“Sir…” Ercole’s face was white.
“Leave. Now.” A vicious string of Italian.
The young officer shot a glance toward Rhyme.
“He is not your superior—I am,” Spiro growled.
The young man walked forward, carefully navigating around Spiro.
His eyes still boring into Rhyme’s, the prosecutor muttered to Ercole, “Close the door as you leave.”
“Sì, Procuratore.”
Chapter 42
How could you do this? You are working against a case that I am prosecuting?”
Spiro stepped toward Rhyme.
Thom moved forward.
The prosecutor said, “You, too. You will leave.”
The aide said calmly, “No.”
Spiro turned to face Thom but, looking into the American’s eyes, apparently decided not to fight this battle and demand that he leave. Which the aide would not have done, in any event.
Back to Rhyme: “I have never wanted you here. Never wanted your presence. Massimo Rossi felt it might be advantageous and since he is the lead investigator I—in my foolish weakness—said yes. But, as it turns out, you are just another one of them.”
A frown of curiosity from Rhyme.
“Another meddling American. You have no sense of propriety, loyalty, of boundaries. You are part of a big, crass machine of a nation that stumbles forward wherever it wishes to go, crushing those in your path. Always without apology.”
Rhyme wasn’t inclined to point out the superficiality of the words; he hadn’t flown four thousand miles to defend U.S. foreign policy.
“Yes, admittedly, you have come up with helpful thoughts in the case but, if you think about the matter, it is a problem of your own making! The Composer is an American. You failed to find and stop him. Accordingly your assistance is the least you can do.
“But to do the opposite—to undermine a case, my case, the case against a man charged of a horrific sexual assault, against an unconscious woman? Well, that is beyond the pale, Mr. Rhyme. Garry Soames is not the subject of a witch trial. He has been arrested according to the laws of this nation, a democracy, on the basis of reasonable evidence and accounts, and is being afforded all of the rights due him. Inspector Laura Martelli and I are continuing to pursue the leads. If he proves to be innocent, he will be freed. But for now he appears to be guilty and he will be incarcerated until a magistrate decides he may be released pending trial.”
Rhyme began to speak.
“No, let me finish. If you had come to me and said you wished to offer suggestions to the defense, suggest forensic advice, I would have understood. But you didn’t do that. To add insult to this travesty, you enlisted into your service our own officer, that young man, who until a few days ago investigated the condition of goat barns and issued citations for trying to sell unwashed broccolini. You used police facilities for unauthorized defense investigations. That is a serious breach of the laws here, Mr. Rhyme. And, frankly, worse, in my opinion, it is an affront to the country that is acting as your host. I will be drawing up charges against you and Ercole Benelli. These charges will be lodged formally if you do not leave the country immediately. And I assure you, sir, you will not enjoy the amenities of the prison that I will recommend for your incarceration. That is all I have to say on this matter.”
He turned and walked to the door, pulling it open.
Rhyme said, “Truth.”
Spiro stopped. He looked back.