Doctored Evidence by Donna Leon Page A

get for herself was a single, and that made me feel so sorry for her. She had to put up with that horrible woman all day and all night long, and she couldn’t even afford a double ice-cream cone.’
    For a long time, neither of them said anything.
    â€˜And the money you gave her, Signora?’ he asked.
    â€˜It was an impulse, nothing more than that. The money I had was for a job I’d bid for and intentionally bid too high, hoping I wouldn’t get it because it was very boring: designing packaging for a new range of light bulbs. But they gave me the job, and it turned out to be so easy that I felt a little bit guilty about being paid all that money. So I guess it was easier to give it away than it would have been if I’d really worked to get it.’ She remembered the money and the impulse that had caused her to give it to Flori. ‘It didn’t do her much good, did it?’ she asked. ‘She never got to spend it.’
    As the idea came to her, she said, ‘Wait a minute; I’ve just realized something. I’ve still got three hundred Euros of that money. I left it here when I went to England. I knew I couldn’t use it there. So I’ve still got the notes.’
    The evident interest in his glance prompted her to continue, ‘That’s all you’ve got to do to prove that I did give it to her, that she didn’t steal it from Signora Battestini.’ When he didn’t respond, she went on. ‘The notes were all new and were probably in a series, so all I’ve got to do is give you the notes I’ve still got, and if you compare the serial numbers with the ones on the money she had with her on the train, you’ll see that she didn’t steal anything.’
    Puzzled by his lack of enthusiasm and, she admitted to herself, hurt by his lack of appreciation, she asked, ‘Well? Wouldn’t it be proof?’
    â€˜Yes,’ he said with evident reluctance, ‘it would be proof.’
    â€˜But?’ she asked.
    â€˜But the money is gone.’

5
    â€˜ HOW CAN THAT be?’ she asked. Enough time elapsed between her question and his response to render it, when it came, redundant. She had to consider only for a moment to realize that such a sum of money passing through a series of public offices and officials had as much chance of survival as would an ice cube passed from hand to hand on the beach at the Lido.
    â€˜There seems to be no record of the money after it left the police in Villa Opicina,’ he said.
    â€˜Why are you telling me this, Commissario?’
    â€˜In the hope that you won’t tell anyone else,’ he answered, making no attempt to avoid her gaze.
    â€˜Are you afraid of the bad publicity?’ she asked with more than a little of LieutenantScarpa’s sarcasm, as if it were somehow contagious.
    â€˜No, not particularly, Signora. But I would like this piece of information not to be made public, just as I would like to keep everything you’re telling me from becoming public knowledge.’
    â€˜And may I ask why?’ The sarcasm had backed off, but there was still plenty of scepticism left in her voice.
    â€˜Because, the less the person who did this knows about what we know, the better it is for us.’
    â€˜You say, “the person who did this”, Commissario. Does that mean you believe me, that Flori didn’t kill her?’
    He sat back in his chair and touched his lower lip with the forefinger of his left hand. ‘From what you tell me, Signora, it doesn’t sound likely that she was a killer, especially in that way.’
    Hearing this and believing him, she relaxed, and he went on, ‘And once she had a ticket home and some money, I find it unlikely that she’d go back and kill the old woman, no matter how difficult she had been.’ He took a notebook from the pocket of his jacket and flipped it open. ‘Could you tell me what she was wearing, please, when