Ratking by Michael Dibdin Page B

he dead?’
    The searchlight crackled back into life and they all covered their eyes.
    ‘Unfortunately, Commendatore. Unfortunately.’
    ‘The first murder victim I’ve ever seen,’ said a younger man with a full black beard. ‘And it wasn’t a pretty sight, I can assure you.’
    ‘Show a little respect, for Christ’s sake!’ Crepi protested angrily. ‘He was my friend!’
    The younger man shrugged.
    ‘Mine too.’
    ‘You, Bartocci?’ Crepi’s tone was bitterly sarcastic. ‘A friend of Ruggiero Miletti? What the hell are you talking about?’
    ‘Who said anything about Ruggiero Miletti?’ asked the older of the two civilians.
    ‘I was referring to the murdered man, Ubaldo Valesio,’ explained his bearded colleague.
    Crepi looked at the third man, a major of the Carabinieri.

    ‘But I was told that it was Ruggiero who had been killed!’ he exclaimed.
    ‘There was initially some confusion as to the identity of the victim,’ the officer replied smoothly.
    The older civilian had turned his attention to Zen. He was short and stout, with a face as smooth and featureless as a balloon, and he glared at everyone, as though he knew very well how foolish he looked and had decided to brazen it out.
    ‘You’re from the police? Di Leonardo, Deputy Public Prosecutor. I’m by no means happy with the way this investigation has been handled. In my view the police have shown a lack of thoroughness bordering on the irresponsible, with the tragic results that we have seen tonight.’
    Zen shook his head vaguely.
    ‘Excuse me, I’ve only just arrived …’
    ‘Quite, quite. This is in no sense intended as a personal reflection on you, Commissioner. Nevertheless I find it quite incredible that no attempt has been made to exploit the dead man’s contacts with the gang, really quite incredible. If his movements had been monitored much might have been learned. As it is we now have a corpse on our hands without being any closer to tracing either the gang or Ruggiero Miletti’s whereabouts. It is most unsatisfactory, really most unsatisfactory indeed.’
    Zen gestured helplessly.
    ‘As I say, I’ve only just arrived here, but I must point out that electronic surveillance of the kind you mention requires the cooperation of the subject. If no such attempt was made it’s presumably because the police were respecting the wishes of the Miletti family.’
    The Public Prosecutor waggled his finger to indicate that this wouldn’t do.
    ‘The constitution states quite clearly that the forces of the law operate autonomously under the direction of the judiciary. The wishes of members of the public have nothing whatever to do with it.’
    ‘But the police can’t be expected to contradict the wishes of the most powerful family in Perugia without specific instructions from the judiciary,’ Zen protested.
    Major Volpi intervened, holding out his hand as though he was directing traffic.
    ‘I cannot of course speak for my colleagues in the police,’ he remarked smugly, ‘but I can assure you that in this case as in any other my men will at all times do whatever is necessary to ensure a successful outcome, regardless of who may be involved.’
    A fierce rivalry had always existed between the civil police, responsible to the Ministry of the Interior, and the paramilitary Carabinieri controlled by the Defence Ministry. Indeed, it was deliberately cultivated on the grounds that competition helped to keep both sides efficient and honest.
    ‘There you are, you seel’ Di Leonardo told Zen. ‘You can’t expect us judges to do all your thinking for you, Commissioner. We expect to see some initiative on your part too.’
    With that he turned away to speak to Antonio Crepi. The Carabinieri officer went off to supervise a tow-truck which had just arrived from the direction of the main road. Bartocci, the young investigating magistrate, was standing beside the car in which Valesio’s body had been found, a grey BMW, almost new by the look