was
one of the reasons I had pretty much decided to stop seeing Roberto. But men it
happened, and I didn't have to tell him.' Was that relief he heard in her
voice?
The door opened, and
a middle-aged woman came into the room, carrying a baby which had its mouth
open, poised to scream. When she saw Brunetti, the woman stopped, and sensing
her motion, the baby closed its mouth and turned to look at the source of the
woman's surprise. Brunetti stood.
"This is the
policeman. Mamma’ the young woman said, paying no attention at all to the
baby, and then asked, 'Did you want something?'
'No, no, Francesca.
But it’s time for the feeding.'
It'll have to wait,
won't it?' the girl answered as though the idea gave her some satisfaction. She
looked at Brunetti and then back at the woman she called Mamma. 'Not
unless you want the policeman to watch me nurse.'
The woman made an
inarticulate noise and grabbed the baby more tightly. It - Brunetti could never
tell if the tiny ones were boys or girls - continued to stare at him and then
turned towards its grandmother and gave a bubbling laugh.
‘I suppose we can
wait ten minutes,' the older woman said and turned and left the room, the
baby's laugh following behind her like the wake of a ship.
'Your mother?'
Brunetti asked, though he was doubtful about this.
'My husband's,' she
answered curtly. 'What else do you want to know about Roberto?'
'Did you, at the
time, think that some of his friends rmight have engineered this?'
Before she answered,
she brushed again at her hair. 'Will you tell me why you want to know?' she
asked. The tone of her question took years from her previous manner and
reminded Brunetti that she couldn't yet be twenty.
'Will that help you
answer the question?' he asked.
‘I don't know. But I
still know a lot of these people, and I don't want to say anything that might .. .'.She allowed her sentence to trail off, leaving Brunetti
to wonder what sort of answer she might give.
'We've found what
might be his body,' he said and offered no further explanation.
Then it couldn't have
been a joke’ she said instantly.
Brunetti smiled and
nodded in what he wanted her to believe was agreement, not bothering to tell
her how often he had witnessed the violent consequences of what had begun as
nothing more than a joke.
She looked down at
the cuticle of her right forefinger and began to pick at it with the fingers
of her left 'Roberto always said he thought his father loved his cousin, Maurizio,
more than he did him. So he did things that would force his father to pay
attention to him.'
'Such as?'
'Oh, getting in
trouble at school, being rude to the teachers, little things. But once he had
some friends hot-wire his car and steal it. He had them do it when he was
parked in front of one of his father's offices in Mestre and he was inside,
talking to his father: that way, his father couldn't think he'd left the keys
in it or lent it to someone.'
'What happened?'
'Oh, they drove it to
Verona and left it in a parking garage there, then took the train back. It
wasn't found for months, and when it was, the insurance had to be paid back,
and the parking fees had to be paid’
'How is it that you
know about this, Signora?'
She started to
answer, paused, and then said, 'Roberto told me about it’
Brunetti resisted the
impulse to ask when he had told her. His next question was more important.
'Are these the same
friends who might have played a joke like this?'
'Like what?'
'A false
kidnapping?' '
She looked down at
her finger again. 1 didn't say that. And if you've found his body, then there's
no question of that, is there? That it was a joke?'
Brunetti left that
alone for a moment and asked, instead, 'Could you give me their names?'
'Why?'
'I'd like to talk to
them’
For a moment, he
thought she was going to refuse, but she gave in and said, 'Carlo Pianon and
Marco Salvo.'
He remembered the
names from the original file. Because they were Roberto's best
one of the reasons I had pretty much decided to stop seeing Roberto. But men it
happened, and I didn't have to tell him.' Was that relief he heard in her
voice?
The door opened, and
a middle-aged woman came into the room, carrying a baby which had its mouth
open, poised to scream. When she saw Brunetti, the woman stopped, and sensing
her motion, the baby closed its mouth and turned to look at the source of the
woman's surprise. Brunetti stood.
"This is the
policeman. Mamma’ the young woman said, paying no attention at all to the
baby, and then asked, 'Did you want something?'
'No, no, Francesca.
But it’s time for the feeding.'
It'll have to wait,
won't it?' the girl answered as though the idea gave her some satisfaction. She
looked at Brunetti and then back at the woman she called Mamma. 'Not
unless you want the policeman to watch me nurse.'
The woman made an
inarticulate noise and grabbed the baby more tightly. It - Brunetti could never
tell if the tiny ones were boys or girls - continued to stare at him and then
turned towards its grandmother and gave a bubbling laugh.
‘I suppose we can
wait ten minutes,' the older woman said and turned and left the room, the
baby's laugh following behind her like the wake of a ship.
'Your mother?'
Brunetti asked, though he was doubtful about this.
'My husband's,' she
answered curtly. 'What else do you want to know about Roberto?'
'Did you, at the
time, think that some of his friends rmight have engineered this?'
Before she answered,
she brushed again at her hair. 'Will you tell me why you want to know?' she
asked. The tone of her question took years from her previous manner and
reminded Brunetti that she couldn't yet be twenty.
'Will that help you
answer the question?' he asked.
‘I don't know. But I
still know a lot of these people, and I don't want to say anything that might .. .'.She allowed her sentence to trail off, leaving Brunetti
to wonder what sort of answer she might give.
'We've found what
might be his body,' he said and offered no further explanation.
Then it couldn't have
been a joke’ she said instantly.
Brunetti smiled and
nodded in what he wanted her to believe was agreement, not bothering to tell
her how often he had witnessed the violent consequences of what had begun as
nothing more than a joke.
She looked down at
the cuticle of her right forefinger and began to pick at it with the fingers
of her left 'Roberto always said he thought his father loved his cousin, Maurizio,
more than he did him. So he did things that would force his father to pay
attention to him.'
'Such as?'
'Oh, getting in
trouble at school, being rude to the teachers, little things. But once he had
some friends hot-wire his car and steal it. He had them do it when he was
parked in front of one of his father's offices in Mestre and he was inside,
talking to his father: that way, his father couldn't think he'd left the keys
in it or lent it to someone.'
'What happened?'
'Oh, they drove it to
Verona and left it in a parking garage there, then took the train back. It
wasn't found for months, and when it was, the insurance had to be paid back,
and the parking fees had to be paid’
'How is it that you
know about this, Signora?'
She started to
answer, paused, and then said, 'Roberto told me about it’
Brunetti resisted the
impulse to ask when he had told her. His next question was more important.
'Are these the same
friends who might have played a joke like this?'
'Like what?'
'A false
kidnapping?' '
She looked down at
her finger again. 1 didn't say that. And if you've found his body, then there's
no question of that, is there? That it was a joke?'
Brunetti left that
alone for a moment and asked, instead, 'Could you give me their names?'
'Why?'
'I'd like to talk to
them’
For a moment, he
thought she was going to refuse, but she gave in and said, 'Carlo Pianon and
Marco Salvo.'
He remembered the
names from the original file. Because they were Roberto's best
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