friends, the
police had wondered if they were the people the kidnappers said they would
contact to use as intermediaries. But both of them were enrolled in a language
course in England when Roberto was kidnapped.
He thanked her for
the names and added, 'You said that was one of the reasons you had decided not
to go out with him any more. Were there others?'
'Oh, there were lots
of reasons,' she answered vaguely.
Brunetti said
nothing, allowing her weak response to echo in the room. Finally she added,
'Well, he wasn't much fun any more, not the last week or so. He was tired all
the time, and he said he didn't feel well. It got so all he could talk about
was how tired he felt, and how weak. I didn't like having to listen to him
complain all the time. Or have him fall asleep in the car and things like
that.' ‘Did he go to a doctor?'
'Yes. That was right
after he started saying he couldn't smell anything any more. He always complained
about smoking - he was worse than an American about that - but then he said he
couldn't even smell smoke’ Her own nose twitched in response to the absurdity
of this. 'So he decided to go to some specialist’
'What did the doctor
say?'
'That there was
nothing wrong with him’ She paused a moment after that, then added, 'Except for
diarrhoea, but the doctor gave him something for that’
'And?' Brunetti
asked. ‘I suppose it stopped’ she said dismissively. 'But did he continue to be
tired, the way you've described?'
'Yes. He kept saying
he was sick, and the doctors kept saying that there was nothing wrong with
him.'
‘Doctors? Did he go
to more than one?'
‘I think so. He
talked about a specialist in Padova. That's the one who finally told him he was
anaemic and gave him some pills to take. But soon after that, it happened, and
he was gone’
'Do you think he was
sick?' Brunetti asked.
'Oh, I don't know’
she answered. She crossed her legs, displaying even more thigh. 'He liked to
have attention.'
Brunetti attempted to
phrase it delicately. ‘Did he give you reason to believe he really was sick or
anaemic?'
'What do you mean,
did he give me reason?'
'Was he less, er,
energetic than usual?'
She looked across at
him, as though Brunetti had just walked into the room from some other century. 'Oh,
you mean sex?' He nodded. ‘Yes, he lost interest in it; that's another reason I
wanted it to end.'
'Did he know this,
that you wanted things to end between you?'
‘I never got a chance
to tell him.'
Brunetti considered
that and then asked, 'Why were you going to the villa that night?'
'We'd been to a party
in Treviso, and Roberto didn't want to have to drive all the way back to
Venice. So we were going to spend the night at the villa and go back in the
morning.'
‘ I see’ Brunetti said and then
asked, 'Aside from being tired, was his behaviour different in any way in the
weeks before it happened?' 'What do you mean?'
‘Had he seemed especially nervous?'
'No, not that I could
say. He was short tempered with me, but he was short tempered with everyone. He
had an argument with his father, and he had one with Maurizio.'
'What was the
argument about?'
'I don't know. He
never told me things like that. And if s not that I was very interested.'
'Why were you
interested in him, Signora?'
Brunetti asked and,
catching her glance, added, ‘If I might ask’
'Oh, he was good
company. At least at the beginning he was. And he always had a lot of money’
Brunetti thought the order of importance of those two remarks might better be
reversed, but he said nothing.
'I see. Do you know
his cousin?'
'Maurizio?' she
asked, Brunetti thought rather unnecessarily.
‘Yes’
'I met him a couple
of times. At Roberto's house. And once at a party.' 'Did you like him?'
She looked across at
one of the etchings and, as if its violence had somehow inspired her, said, 'No’ why?'
She shrugged
dismissively at a memory from so long ago. 'I don't know. He seemed arrogant to
me’ Hearing
police had wondered if they were the people the kidnappers said they would
contact to use as intermediaries. But both of them were enrolled in a language
course in England when Roberto was kidnapped.
He thanked her for
the names and added, 'You said that was one of the reasons you had decided not
to go out with him any more. Were there others?'
'Oh, there were lots
of reasons,' she answered vaguely.
Brunetti said
nothing, allowing her weak response to echo in the room. Finally she added,
'Well, he wasn't much fun any more, not the last week or so. He was tired all
the time, and he said he didn't feel well. It got so all he could talk about
was how tired he felt, and how weak. I didn't like having to listen to him
complain all the time. Or have him fall asleep in the car and things like
that.' ‘Did he go to a doctor?'
'Yes. That was right
after he started saying he couldn't smell anything any more. He always complained
about smoking - he was worse than an American about that - but then he said he
couldn't even smell smoke’ Her own nose twitched in response to the absurdity
of this. 'So he decided to go to some specialist’
'What did the doctor
say?'
'That there was
nothing wrong with him’ She paused a moment after that, then added, 'Except for
diarrhoea, but the doctor gave him something for that’
'And?' Brunetti
asked. ‘I suppose it stopped’ she said dismissively. 'But did he continue to be
tired, the way you've described?'
'Yes. He kept saying
he was sick, and the doctors kept saying that there was nothing wrong with
him.'
‘Doctors? Did he go
to more than one?'
‘I think so. He
talked about a specialist in Padova. That's the one who finally told him he was
anaemic and gave him some pills to take. But soon after that, it happened, and
he was gone’
'Do you think he was
sick?' Brunetti asked.
'Oh, I don't know’
she answered. She crossed her legs, displaying even more thigh. 'He liked to
have attention.'
Brunetti attempted to
phrase it delicately. ‘Did he give you reason to believe he really was sick or
anaemic?'
'What do you mean,
did he give me reason?'
'Was he less, er,
energetic than usual?'
She looked across at
him, as though Brunetti had just walked into the room from some other century. 'Oh,
you mean sex?' He nodded. ‘Yes, he lost interest in it; that's another reason I
wanted it to end.'
'Did he know this,
that you wanted things to end between you?'
‘I never got a chance
to tell him.'
Brunetti considered
that and then asked, 'Why were you going to the villa that night?'
'We'd been to a party
in Treviso, and Roberto didn't want to have to drive all the way back to
Venice. So we were going to spend the night at the villa and go back in the
morning.'
‘ I see’ Brunetti said and then
asked, 'Aside from being tired, was his behaviour different in any way in the
weeks before it happened?' 'What do you mean?'
‘Had he seemed especially nervous?'
'No, not that I could
say. He was short tempered with me, but he was short tempered with everyone. He
had an argument with his father, and he had one with Maurizio.'
'What was the
argument about?'
'I don't know. He
never told me things like that. And if s not that I was very interested.'
'Why were you
interested in him, Signora?'
Brunetti asked and,
catching her glance, added, ‘If I might ask’
'Oh, he was good
company. At least at the beginning he was. And he always had a lot of money’
Brunetti thought the order of importance of those two remarks might better be
reversed, but he said nothing.
'I see. Do you know
his cousin?'
'Maurizio?' she
asked, Brunetti thought rather unnecessarily.
‘Yes’
'I met him a couple
of times. At Roberto's house. And once at a party.' 'Did you like him?'
She looked across at
one of the etchings and, as if its violence had somehow inspired her, said, 'No’ why?'
She shrugged
dismissively at a memory from so long ago. 'I don't know. He seemed arrogant to
me’ Hearing
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