Transient Desires (Commissario Brunetti #30)(37)

‘What about them?’ Brunetti asked.

‘The juvenile file of Marcello Vio. There’s none for Duso.’

‘She’s not here?’ Brunetti asked.

‘Not today, but her spirit is ever here with us,’ Griffoni said with mock solemnity. Then, more briskly, she continued, ‘She doesn’t trust us to go into some places by ourselves without leaving traces that we’ve been there, so she found Vio’s record and sent it to me,’ she said, then continued, reminding Brunetti of the no-go areas Signorina Elettra kept for herself. ‘She won’t show me how to get information about the military, anything that has to do with crimes against children, or anything that might require access to the Vatican.’

He realized this was not the time to question Signorina Elettra’s decision and so pointed to the paper under Griffoni’s hand and asked, ‘What’s in it?’ She shrugged. ‘Nothing surprising. Vio and boats, Vio and boats, Vio and boats. Driving big ones without a licence for them. Speeding. Driving at night without lights. He’s lucky he still has a licence.’

‘Lucky?’ Brunetti asked.

‘I figure some of the people who stopped him knew him or knew his uncle and let the small things pass. Boat people: they stick together. And there’s no record he ever broke anything but maritime rules.’

‘Maritime laws,’ Brunetti corrected her.

She smiled and repeated, ‘Laws.’

She held up the paper and waved it in the air. ‘His problem – at least as I see it – is testosterone.’

‘Then,’ Brunetti began, pointing to the other papers she had placed on his desk, ‘what are those?’

‘Some family history, about Vio’s uncle, Pietro Borgato,’ she said, smiling.

Failing to hide his surprise, Brunetti asked, ‘Did she send them to you?’

‘No. She’s hasn’t had time to start on him,’ Griffoni answered. ‘So I had a look myself. Instead of lunch.’

She pushed the papers towards him with a single finger, leaving it there, and said, ‘It’ll be easier if I simply tell you the things that caught my attention.’

Brunetti nodded, so she continued. ‘Water’s in the family blood. Borgato’s father started with the ACTV as a crew member when he was in his early twenties. By thirty, he was the pilot of a vaporetto. His son Pietro followed him into the company as a simple sailor. I’m told it’s always helped if someone in your family puts in a good word for you; even better if someone in the family already works on the boats.’

‘Just like anywhere,’ Brunetti commented.

She nodded and went on. ‘But Pietro was a different sort of man. His work record is bad: he complained, argued with passengers, asked people to show him their tickets – which was none of his business – and was finally disciplined for getting into a fight with a colleague and then fired when he got into a fight with a passenger.’ Before Brunetti could ask, she said, ‘There’s no explanation of the fight in the ACTV records, only that he hit a passenger and was fired.’

Looking down at them, she tapped at the papers, as if to summon something from them. ‘The passenger was a woman,’ she said, surprising Brunetti. ‘It sounds like the whole thing was hushed up and he was let go.’

‘No charges against him?’

‘No, my guess is that ACTV decided they’d buy the woman’s silence if she didn’t press charges.’

‘That makes sense,’ Brunetti said, meaning it. ‘Never offend the tourists.’

‘She was Venetian,’ said Griffoni, then glanced at him, and, seeing his surprise, reached for the papers. She paged through them and finally read out, ‘Anna Bruzin, 35, housewife, Canareggio 4565.’

‘What else?’ Brunetti asked.

‘The usual,’ Griffoni answered, turning a page. ‘A few scuffles in bars that we responded to. Only one charge, for having thrown a man into the water. But two days later, the man came in and said he was drunk, and that he fell in while Borgato was trying to pull him away from the water. And the charge was dropped.’

Brunetti couldn’t stop himself from letting out a puff of air. He looked across at her, but she was looking at the page. ‘You ever known a . . . ?’ he broke off for a moment and then asked, ‘Did this happen on the Giudecca?’

Griffoni checked the report and said, ‘Yes.’

‘I’ve never known a Giudecchino, drunk or sober, to fall into the water,’ he said, then shook his head a few times.

Griffoni waited a moment or two and then continued. ‘After he was fired, he disappeared from the city until about ten years ago, when he came back and bought the warehouse he has now and two boats, hired two men, and went into the transport business. Since then, he’s bought two more big boats and a smaller one and become a successful businessman.’

‘More testosterone?’ Brunetti inquired.

Griffoni shook her head. ‘Either his has decreased with age, or he’s learned how to control it. There’s no further mention of violence.’ She glanced at the pages, flipped to the last, and said, ‘He’s come to the attention of the police – the water police – only for illegal mooring.’ When Brunetti did not respond, she added, ‘I found that in the records of the city police – aside from that, there’s nothing.’