Jeffery Deaver - The Burial Hour

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.

‘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 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 .’

‘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 US 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.

Rhyme said, ‘There’s only one thing that matters to me. The truth.’

A cold smile. ‘Do I suspect an excuse is about to wing my way? That’s something else Americans love: excuses . They can do anything, then excuse away their behavior. We kill thousands wrongly, but it was because we were blinded by a higher cause. How your country must feel shame. Day and night.’

‘Not an excuse, Prosecutor. A fact. There is absolutely nothing I will not do to arrive at the truth. And that includes going behind your back and anyone else’s if I need to. What we did here, I knew it was against procedure, if not against the law.’

‘Which it is,’ Spiro reminded sternly.

‘Garry Soames could very likely be guilty of raping Frieda S. I don’t care. I honestly don’t. If my line of inquiry proves him guilty, I’ll give those details to you as happily as if I found exculpatory evidence. I told Garry’s lawyer as much. But what I can’t do is allow any uncertainty to remain. Has this piece of evidence told us everything it possibly can? Is it being coy? Is it being duplicitous? Is it pretending to be something else entirely?’

‘Very clever, Mr Rhyme. Do you use that personification in your courses, to charm your students?’

He did, as a matter of fact.

‘I found your investigation into the rape case well done—’

‘Condescension! Yet another quality you Americans so excel in.’

‘No. I mean it. You and Inspector Martelli have done a fine job. But it’s also true that your case is lacking. I identified threads of investigation that I thought it was a good idea to pursue.’

‘ Ach , these are just words. You have my ultimatum. Leave the country at once or face the consequences.’

Again he turned.

‘Did you know about the break-in at Garry’s apartment?’

He paused.

‘Someone wearing latex gloves broke the window of his bedroom and hid the break-in, covering the cut-out window with dirt. And it was the room where the date-rape drug traces were found on his clothing. And the window frame and sill — outside the building — contain traces of drug too.’

Rhyme nodded to Thom, who found the yellow pad, the mini chart. He handed it toward Spiro, who waved his hand dismissively.

He continued to the door.

‘Please. Just take one look.’

Sighing loudly, the prosecutor returned and snatched the pad. He read for a moment. ‘And you found evidence linking someone at the, as you say, smoking station with the scene where the victim was attacked. The trace, the detersivo per il bucato — the soap — and the spices.’

So he recognized the ingredients in the detergent. Impressive.

In a firm voice, he said, ‘But that proves nothing. The source for that trace would be the hostess, Natalia. She went to the victim’s aid. And her boyfriend, Dev, is Indian. Explaining the curry.’ The prosecutor’s face softened. He cocked his head as he said to Rhyme, ‘I myself was suspicious of him at first. I took his statement at the school and while doing so I observed that he frequently would look over women students as they passed. His eyes seemed hungry. And he was seen talking to the victim, Frieda, earlier that evening. But every minute of the party he was accounted for. And his DNA did not match that which was inside the victim.’