the people who spoke to him seldom considered the legal consequences of their talk, those who spoke to the trained professionals in their various call centres would hardly consider the economic consequences of their own garrulity.
‘Here are the tramezzini , sir,’ he heard Riverre say. Brunetti turned to thank him, but before he could speak, Riverre, seeing the screen, said, ‘Oh, you use them, too, Commissario?’
Not trusting himself to speak, Brunetti took the paper bag holding the sandwiches and two half-litre bottles of mineral water and set it beside the computer. ‘Oh, I’m not sure I use them,’ he then said casually, quite as though he did, ‘but I like to check them every so often to see if there’s anything new.’ Deciding that instant to dine in the squad room, Brunetti opened the bag and took out one of the sandwiches. Tomato and prosciutto. He peeled back the napkin wrapping it and took a bite.
Chewing, he pointed with the tramezzini towards the screen and asked, ‘You have any favourites, Riverre?’
Riverre removed his jacket and stepped aside to drape it over the chair at his desk, then came back to Brunetti. ‘Well, I can’t say it’s my favourite, sir, but there’s one woman – I think she’s in Torino – who talks about children and the sort of problems they can have. Or that parents can have with them.’
‘The way kids are today,’ Brunetti agreed soberly, ‘that’s got to be a good thing.’
‘That’s what I think, sir. My wife has called her a few times to ask what we should do about Gianpaolo.’
‘He must be twelve by now, isn’t he?’ Brunetti asked, taking a stab at the age.
‘Fourteen, sir. But just turned. And he’s not a little boy any more, so we can’t treat him like he is.’
‘Is this what she’s said, the woman from Torino?’ Brunetti asked, finishing the first tramezzino and pulling out one of the bottles of mineral water. With gas. Good. He opened it and offered it to Riverre, but the policeman shook his head. ‘No, sir. It’s what my mother says.’
‘And the woman in Torino? What does she say?’
‘She’s got a course we can take. Ten lessons that we can do, my wife and me together.’
‘In Torino?’ asked Brunetti, unable to hide his surprise.
‘Oh, no, sir,’ Riverre said with a gentle laugh. ‘We’re in the modern age now, me and my wife. We’re on line, so all we have to do is sign up, and the class comes to our computer, and then we watch the lessons and take the tests. They send you everything – quizzes and tests and study aids – at your email, and you send them back, and then they send you grades and comments.’
‘I see,’ Brunetti said, and took a sip of water. ‘It’s ingenious, isn’t it?’
Riverre couldn’t stop himself from smiling at Brunetti’s comment. ‘Only thing is, sir, I don’t think we can do it right now, what with the vacation to pay for: we’re going to Elba next week. Camping, but it’s still expensive, for the three of us.’
‘Oh,’ Brunetti said with mild interest, ‘how much does the class cost?’
‘Three hundred Euros,’ Riverre answered and looked at Brunetti to see how he responded to the price. When his superior raised his eyebrows by way of answer, Riverre explained, ‘That’s with the tests and all the grading, you see.’
‘Humm,’ Brunetti said and nodded; he reached into the bag for the other sandwich. ‘It’s not cheap, is it?’
‘No,’ Riverre said with a resigned shake of his head. ‘But he’s our only child, and we want the best for him. I guess that’s sort of natural, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Yes, I think it is,’ Brunetti said and took a bite. ‘He’s a good boy, isn’t he?’
Riverre smiled, frowned in thoughtful consideration, then smiled again. ‘I think he is, sir. And he does well in school. No trouble.’
‘Then maybe you could wait a while on that class.’ He finished the second sandwich, regretted that he had asked Riverre to
‘Here are the tramezzini , sir,’ he heard Riverre say. Brunetti turned to thank him, but before he could speak, Riverre, seeing the screen, said, ‘Oh, you use them, too, Commissario?’
Not trusting himself to speak, Brunetti took the paper bag holding the sandwiches and two half-litre bottles of mineral water and set it beside the computer. ‘Oh, I’m not sure I use them,’ he then said casually, quite as though he did, ‘but I like to check them every so often to see if there’s anything new.’ Deciding that instant to dine in the squad room, Brunetti opened the bag and took out one of the sandwiches. Tomato and prosciutto. He peeled back the napkin wrapping it and took a bite.
Chewing, he pointed with the tramezzini towards the screen and asked, ‘You have any favourites, Riverre?’
Riverre removed his jacket and stepped aside to drape it over the chair at his desk, then came back to Brunetti. ‘Well, I can’t say it’s my favourite, sir, but there’s one woman – I think she’s in Torino – who talks about children and the sort of problems they can have. Or that parents can have with them.’
‘The way kids are today,’ Brunetti agreed soberly, ‘that’s got to be a good thing.’
‘That’s what I think, sir. My wife has called her a few times to ask what we should do about Gianpaolo.’
‘He must be twelve by now, isn’t he?’ Brunetti asked, taking a stab at the age.
‘Fourteen, sir. But just turned. And he’s not a little boy any more, so we can’t treat him like he is.’
‘Is this what she’s said, the woman from Torino?’ Brunetti asked, finishing the first tramezzino and pulling out one of the bottles of mineral water. With gas. Good. He opened it and offered it to Riverre, but the policeman shook his head. ‘No, sir. It’s what my mother says.’
‘And the woman in Torino? What does she say?’
‘She’s got a course we can take. Ten lessons that we can do, my wife and me together.’
‘In Torino?’ asked Brunetti, unable to hide his surprise.
‘Oh, no, sir,’ Riverre said with a gentle laugh. ‘We’re in the modern age now, me and my wife. We’re on line, so all we have to do is sign up, and the class comes to our computer, and then we watch the lessons and take the tests. They send you everything – quizzes and tests and study aids – at your email, and you send them back, and then they send you grades and comments.’
‘I see,’ Brunetti said, and took a sip of water. ‘It’s ingenious, isn’t it?’
Riverre couldn’t stop himself from smiling at Brunetti’s comment. ‘Only thing is, sir, I don’t think we can do it right now, what with the vacation to pay for: we’re going to Elba next week. Camping, but it’s still expensive, for the three of us.’
‘Oh,’ Brunetti said with mild interest, ‘how much does the class cost?’
‘Three hundred Euros,’ Riverre answered and looked at Brunetti to see how he responded to the price. When his superior raised his eyebrows by way of answer, Riverre explained, ‘That’s with the tests and all the grading, you see.’
‘Humm,’ Brunetti said and nodded; he reached into the bag for the other sandwich. ‘It’s not cheap, is it?’
‘No,’ Riverre said with a resigned shake of his head. ‘But he’s our only child, and we want the best for him. I guess that’s sort of natural, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Yes, I think it is,’ Brunetti said and took a bite. ‘He’s a good boy, isn’t he?’
Riverre smiled, frowned in thoughtful consideration, then smiled again. ‘I think he is, sir. And he does well in school. No trouble.’
‘Then maybe you could wait a while on that class.’ He finished the second sandwich, regretted that he had asked Riverre to
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