discuss anything I know.'
'Can't or won't?' Brunetti asked, all attempt at humour gone from his voice.
Her look was direct and even. 'Can't,' she repeated and then broke away her glance to look down at her watch. This time, it was Snoopy, he noticed. 'I've got one more house call to make before lunch.'
Brunetti knew this was a decision that could not be opposed. Thank you for your time and for what you've told me, ’ he said, meaning it . On a more personal note, he added, 'I'm surp rised I didn't realize you and El ettra were sisters before this.'
'Well, she's five years younger than I am.'
'I wasn't thinking about appearance,' he said. In response to the inquisitive tilt of her chin, he added, 'Your character. It's very similar.'
Her smile was swift and broad. 'Many people have told us that'
'Yes, I imagine they would,' Brunetti said.
For a moment, she said nothing, but then she laughed with real delight Still laughing, she pushed back her chair and reached for her coat He helped her with it glanced at the sum on the bill, and dropped some money on to the table. She picked up her brown bag, and together they went out into the Piazza, there to discover it had grown even warmer.
'Most of my patients are sure this means it will be a terrible winter,' she said, waving her arm to encompass both the Piazza and the light that filled it They walked down the three low steps and started across the Piazza.
'If it were unnaturally cold, what would they say then? ’ Brunetti asked.
'Oh, they'd say the same thing, that it's a sure sign of a bad winter,' she answered casually, not at all troubled by the contradiction. Venetians both, they understood.
'We are a pessimistic people, aren't we?' Brunetti asked.
'We once had an empire. Now all we have,' she said, repeating the same gesture, again encompassing the Basilica, the campanile and, below it, Sansovino's Log getta, 'all we have is this Disneyland. I think that's sufficient cause for pessimism.'
Brunetti nodded but said nothing. She hadn't persuaded him. The moments came rarely, but for him the city's glory still lived.
They parted at the foot of the campanile, she to see a patient who lived in Campo della Guerra and he to walk towards Rialto and, from there, home for lunch.
8
The shops were still open when he reached his neighbourhood, so he went into the corner grocery store and bought four glass bottl es of mineral water. In a weak moment of ecological appeasement, Brunetti had agreed to take part in his family's boycott of plastic bottles , and so he had, like the rest of them - he had to give them that - developed the habit of stopping at the store each time he passed to pick up a few bottles . He sometimes wondered if the rest of them bathed in the stuff while he wasn't there, with such rapidity did it disappear.
At the top of the fifth flight, he set the bag of bottles down on the final step and fished out his keys. From inside, he heard the radio news, no doubt bringing an eager public up to date on the Trevisan murder. He pushed open the door, set the bottles down inside, and closed the door behind him. From the kit chen, he heard a voice intone, ‘ .. denies all knowledge of the charges made against him and points to twenty years of faithful service to the ex-Christian Democratic Party as proof of his commitment to justice. From his cell in the Regina Coeli Prison, however, Renato Mustacci, confessed Mafia killer, still maintains that he was fol l owing the Senator's orders when he and two other men shot and killed Judge Filippo Preside and his wife, Elvira, in Palermo in May of last year.'
The solemn voice of the announcer was replaced by a song about soap powder, over which he could hear Paola talking aloud to herself, often her preferred audience. 'Filthy, lying pig. Filth y lying DC pig and all like him. "Commitment to justice. Commitment to justice."' There followed one of the more scurrilous epithets to which his wife was given, strangely enough,
'Can't or won't?' Brunetti asked, all attempt at humour gone from his voice.
Her look was direct and even. 'Can't,' she repeated and then broke away her glance to look down at her watch. This time, it was Snoopy, he noticed. 'I've got one more house call to make before lunch.'
Brunetti knew this was a decision that could not be opposed. Thank you for your time and for what you've told me, ’ he said, meaning it . On a more personal note, he added, 'I'm surp rised I didn't realize you and El ettra were sisters before this.'
'Well, she's five years younger than I am.'
'I wasn't thinking about appearance,' he said. In response to the inquisitive tilt of her chin, he added, 'Your character. It's very similar.'
Her smile was swift and broad. 'Many people have told us that'
'Yes, I imagine they would,' Brunetti said.
For a moment, she said nothing, but then she laughed with real delight Still laughing, she pushed back her chair and reached for her coat He helped her with it glanced at the sum on the bill, and dropped some money on to the table. She picked up her brown bag, and together they went out into the Piazza, there to discover it had grown even warmer.
'Most of my patients are sure this means it will be a terrible winter,' she said, waving her arm to encompass both the Piazza and the light that filled it They walked down the three low steps and started across the Piazza.
'If it were unnaturally cold, what would they say then? ’ Brunetti asked.
'Oh, they'd say the same thing, that it's a sure sign of a bad winter,' she answered casually, not at all troubled by the contradiction. Venetians both, they understood.
'We are a pessimistic people, aren't we?' Brunetti asked.
'We once had an empire. Now all we have,' she said, repeating the same gesture, again encompassing the Basilica, the campanile and, below it, Sansovino's Log getta, 'all we have is this Disneyland. I think that's sufficient cause for pessimism.'
Brunetti nodded but said nothing. She hadn't persuaded him. The moments came rarely, but for him the city's glory still lived.
They parted at the foot of the campanile, she to see a patient who lived in Campo della Guerra and he to walk towards Rialto and, from there, home for lunch.
8
The shops were still open when he reached his neighbourhood, so he went into the corner grocery store and bought four glass bottl es of mineral water. In a weak moment of ecological appeasement, Brunetti had agreed to take part in his family's boycott of plastic bottles , and so he had, like the rest of them - he had to give them that - developed the habit of stopping at the store each time he passed to pick up a few bottles . He sometimes wondered if the rest of them bathed in the stuff while he wasn't there, with such rapidity did it disappear.
At the top of the fifth flight, he set the bag of bottles down on the final step and fished out his keys. From inside, he heard the radio news, no doubt bringing an eager public up to date on the Trevisan murder. He pushed open the door, set the bottles down inside, and closed the door behind him. From the kit chen, he heard a voice intone, ‘ .. denies all knowledge of the charges made against him and points to twenty years of faithful service to the ex-Christian Democratic Party as proof of his commitment to justice. From his cell in the Regina Coeli Prison, however, Renato Mustacci, confessed Mafia killer, still maintains that he was fol l owing the Senator's orders when he and two other men shot and killed Judge Filippo Preside and his wife, Elvira, in Palermo in May of last year.'
The solemn voice of the announcer was replaced by a song about soap powder, over which he could hear Paola talking aloud to herself, often her preferred audience. 'Filthy, lying pig. Filth y lying DC pig and all like him. "Commitment to justice. Commitment to justice."' There followed one of the more scurrilous epithets to which his wife was given, strangely enough,
Similar Books
