‘Explain, then, tell me how it was.’
‘Have you ever lived with a hysteric? She threatened to kill herself all the time. Throw herself out of windows, out of trains, out of cars doing eighty miles an hour down a motorway.’
Bertelli’s heavy black brows twitched upwards. ‘Do you always drive that fast, Signore? If you do that here, you will find yourself in trouble.’
‘I haven’t even got a car at the moment. I don’t need one, in Venice, do I?’
Bertelli surveyed him. ‘You were telling me about your wife.’
‘She was always threatening to kill herself,’ Sebastian repeated. ‘She fought with me to grab the wheel of my car: “I’m going to kill us both,” she’d scream. “I’m going to jump out.” And then there was the gun. She kept a little handgun in her purse. Lots of women do in the States, for protection when they go out on the street. Clea was always waving it about. “I’m going to shoot myself,” she’d yell. Or she’d pick up kitchen knives and say, “I’m going to cut my throat!”’ He lifted his heavy head and looked at the policeman, his eyes lightless black. ‘That’s how she was. She threatened to kill herself all the time.’
‘And you never believed her?’
‘Oh, at first, yes. She terrified me. I didn’t dare leave her alone at times, in case she did kill herself. Her therapist told me people like that never do. If they keep saying they will and don’t, they never will. It’s an attention ploy. “She wants your attention,” he said. “She needs to know you care.” Well, I was sick of giving her my attention at the end. I was so tired of her scenes and tantrums. So that last time I ignored her. Took no notice at all when she opened the window, climbed on to the sill, screamed at me, “I’m jumping, I’m jumping”. “Go ahead, you stupid bitch,” I said, without even looking round. “Jump, give me some peace!” And she did. Okay?’ His voice hoarsened. ‘That last time she went ahead and fucking did it.’
And fell screaming, ‘No, no, no,’ all the way down while he had run to the window and had frozen in horror and panic.
He looked at the policeman with eyes that burned. ‘So in a way you’re right. I killed her. She died because I wouldn’t give her my attention. And if you want to know if I feel guilty – of course I fucking well do. If I had had any idea that that one time she would really do it …’ His voice broke. ‘Oh, go to hell,’ he said, putting his arms on the table and his head down on them.
They left him alone for an hour or so after that. He lay down and tried to sleep. He was so tired he was hallucinating, seeing images of his mother screaming in the blizzard over the canal, of Clea falling, crying out all the way down, of Laura …
The door opened. His nerves jumped. They were back. ‘Leave me alone, I’m not answering any more questions,’ he said, not moving from the bunk.
Bertelli walked towards him. He had a large plastic bag dangling over his arm. In it was something wet and black. A coat?
‘Do you recognise this, Signore?’
Sebastian shook his head.
‘Stand up, please.’ The man’s voice was curt.
Sebastian almost refused to obey, but what was the point? They would pull him to his feet. So he swung his legs off the bunk and got up. The policeman held the plastic bag against him. Adjusted it. Stared.
‘What’s going on?’ Sebastian asked. ‘What is this?’
‘It was found floating on the canal, close to where Miss Erskine was attacked. It fits the description of a cape she says her attacker was wearing.’
Sebastian stepped back involuntarily, away from the cold plastic bag and what it contained.
‘I told you, I was nowhere near there, I was in Florian’s, I never saw her.’ He drew a long, audible breath. ‘I wouldn’t harm a hair on her head. If I knew who stabbed her, I’d kill the bastard.’
‘That wouldn’t be very clever, would it?’ Bertelli frowned, yet his dark eyes were not unfriendly. ‘We’ll find him, don’t worry, Signore. And the law will deal with him when we do. We would like you to sign a statement. We talked to the waiter who served you in Florian’s, and the other customers. You were in the café when the attack took place. And you’re too tall, anyway. Miss Erskine said the cape came down to feet of the attacker. I can see it would only come midway down your legs.’
‘So you believe me now?’ Anger choked Sebastian’s throat, his voice sounded slurred. ‘Well, thanks for nothing. I told you I didn’t do it. You’ve kept me here all this time, grilling me, when you should have been out there looking for whoever really did do it.’
‘Oh, we’ve been following up many other leads, don’t worry. I’m sorry, Signor Ferrese, but you want us to catch the man who tried to kill Miss Erskine, don’t you? We need to know everything we can about her – how else can we be sure whether it was a random attack, or one aimed specifically at her?’
Sebastian asked, ‘Have there been other attacks?’
‘No, this is an isolated incident – so far. But we have to check every avenue. Tell me, to your knowledge, has Miss Erskine any enemies? Male or female?’
‘I told you about the threats—’
‘Yes, but did you suspect anyone you knew?’
Sebastian bit out, ‘No!’
‘When your wife jumped, Signore, were you alone with her? Just the two of you, in the room?’