Poisonville Read Online Free PDF Page B

grasped my hand, and gestured for me to sit down. Like Mele, the prosecutor was tense. I was about to ask him why when my father walked in.
    “I certainly hope that there is a sound justification for this summons,” he said, resting his hands on my shoulders in an affectionate gesture.
    “Counselor, be seated,” Mele broke in.
    Zan ran his hand over his face. “We have requested your presence, counselor,” he explained to my father, “entirely in consideration of and respect for your reputation. I am obliged by circumstances to put certain questions to your son pertaining to the death of Giovanna Barovier, and I deemed it to be my duty to inform you of that fact.”
    My father nodded his head with a smile, acknowledging the collegiality of the gesture. “It strikes me that the urgent nature of these questions imply a development, something of which we would appreciate being informed before responding,” he replied in the purest lawyerly language.
    Zan looked hard at me. I could feel the sergeant’s eyes on me as well.
    “Giovanna Barovier was murdered.”
    “What?” I shouted.
    “Do you realize the gravity of such a statement?” my father inquired.
    Zan held up both hands in a signal of reassurance. “The preliminary results of the autopsy are unequivocal,” he explained. “A hematoma on her sternum clearly demonstrates that she was forcibly held underwater.”
    “By whom?” I asked.
    “That we do not know,” Mele responded. “That’s why we have to ask you some questions.”
    I looked at my father. He was clearly thinking the same thing. They were trying to determine if I was the killer. This is what always happens in this kind of investigation. They start with the people who were closest to the victim. Statistically, it was usually one of them. But not in my case. I hadn’t killed Giovanna.
    “When did you last see the victim?” asked Zan.
    The victim. Giovanna had become the victim. Until last night, she’d been my whole life. Now she was the corpse of a murdered woman. The subject of an investigation.
    “How was she killed?” I asked.
    The prosecutor shifted uneasily in his chair, glancing at my father in search of assistance. Papa took one of my hands in both of his. “Answer his question, if you feel that you can; otherwise the prosecutor will understand, and we’ll come back some other time.”
    I drew a deep breath. “Yesterday morning,” I answered robotically. “Giovanna slept at my house. We ate breakfast together, and then she left.”
    “And you didn’t see her again after that?”
    “No.”
    “Are you certain that you didn’t go to her house last night?”
    “My son already answered that question,” my father broke in.
    Zan seemed increasingly uncomfortable. This time he looked over at the inspector.
    “We need to know where you were between 1 and 3 A.M. ,” Mele said, brusquely.
    So that’s when Giovanna had been murdered. But what was she doing in the bathtub at that time of night?
    “I was at the Club Diana, for my bachelor party. Then I left the club, and I ran into Filippo Calchi Renier. I think I got back to my house just a little before 3 A.M. ”
    My father shot me a disappointed look. It hadn’t been a very smart answer. But I didn’t give a damn. I hadn’t killed Giovanna. I wanted to shout that out with all my strength, but I couldn’t. No one had accused me of anything yet.
    “A little before three,” the inspector considered the answer out loud. “I guess, at that hour, no one saw you come home.”
    “No one, as far as I can remember.”
    “Did Giovanna try to call you during the day?”
    “We spoke on the phone a couple of times. She asked me for advice about a couple of details concerning our wedding plans.”
    Zan cleared his throat, signaling that it was Mele’s turn to take over the questioning.
    “Did Giovanna Barovier ever tell you that she needed to talk to you about a very important matter?”
    “No.”
    “A witness informs us to