Ratking - 1 by Michael Dibdin

Author:Michael Dibdin [Dibdin, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Police Procedural, Fiction, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780571270613
Publisher: Faber & Faber, Limited
Published: 1988-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

‘Yes, I know. I met Cinzia Miletti in town. She’d been waiting for you.’

‘Well, I’d been waiting for her, too! We’d arranged to meet at her house.’

‘She told me that you phoned her and asked for a meeting in town.’

‘I really can’t imagine why she should have said that, Com missioner. It’s exactly the opposite of what happened. She phoned me and asked me to come straight over. She didn’t say why, but obviously in my position …’

It occurred to Zen that while they were talking any incoming call announcing Ruggiero’s release would be blocked.

‘Never mind about that,’ he said briskly. ‘There’s something I want to discuss with you. It’s about a letter I’ve received.’

‘A letter? What son of letter?’

‘I’d rather not discuss it on the phone. Do you think you could drop into my office? It won’t take long.’

‘Well, it’s a bit difficult. It’s a question of the family, you see. I’m not sure they’d approve, just at present.’

They’d approve still less if they knew what it was about, thought Zen.

‘Perhaps later on, once this is all over.’

‘Very well. I’ll contact you later then.’

He hung up, his hand hovering hopefully above the receiver. But the phone remained sullenly silent.

His suspicions were confirmed. The uncharacteristic fuss and fluster in Ivy’s manner was surely a proof that she knew only too well which letter he was talking about and was in mortal dread of the family finding out.

He took out the letter and scanned the final lines again. That mistake was curious: ‘… well-worn consecutively numbered notes …’ For a moment it had made him inclined to doubt the authenticity of the whole thing. But it was only a detail, and it didn’t alter the fact that no one but Ivy could have done it. She must have taken the letter straight to a photocopy shop after collecting it from the skip and then posted the copy to Zen before returning to the house, calculating that if the copy came to light each of the Milettis would equally be under suspicion. But that calculation had gone up in smoke with the original letter, and since then she must have bitterly regretted her rashness. Why had she taken such a risk? Was it because she knew the Miletti family only too well, and was determined that this time at least everything should not be conveniently hushed up? Had sending Zen the letter been her humble way of serving the great principle upon which Luciano Bartocci had now apparently turned his back, of not letting the bastards get away with it? At all events, she had committed no crime, so there was no reason for him to pursue the matter any further.

He sat there until his eyelids began to droop, then phoned the switchboard and told them that he would be at his hotel. There was no point in continuing his lonely vigil.

But why couldn’t he rid himself of the eerie sensation that it had already happened, that everyone knew except him, that

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