Transient Desires (Commissario Brunetti #30)(77)

Marcello Vio could never have afforded to pay him. The fact that his uncle must, therefore, be paying De Persio’s bill suggested to Brunetti how important it was to him that his nephew not be convicted of a crime, especially not one involving a boat, and that attention not be drawn to the family. If Brunetti’s assessment of Borgato’s greed was correct, he was not likely to pay a bill for anyone, neither employee nor relative, unless it was in his own interests. He would pay only to keep himself – like his boats – off the radar of the authorities.

The other, equally interesting, information was supplied by Signorina Elettra, in the form of Pietro Borgato’s financial records. He had a safe deposit box at a small private bank in Lugano, where he also had a savings account with something approaching three hundred thousand Euros, deposited in cash during the last five years. He also, nearer home, had another savings account at the San Salvador branch of Uni Credit that contained about nine thousand Euros. Beyond this, he had a business account used for running the transport company. So far as Signorina Elettra could discover, this account was handled primarily by his secretary, who had been with the company from the beginning.

Yes, Signorina Elettra had taken a close look at her: Elena Rocca, resident at Sacca Fisola, 53, married to a boat mechanic, two daughters and four granddaughters. She and her husband had a post office savings account in which there were two thousand and twelve Euros, set aside month by month during the last nine years, since the account was opened. To the best of her knowledge, Signorina Elettra reported that this was the total of Signora Rocca’s wealth, aside from the apartment where she and her husband had lived for twenty-six years.

Brunetti looked up from the papers and stared out of his window. A safe deposit box and three hundred thousand Euros in Switzerland. Well, well, well, perhaps he was right that Borgato’s guiding spirit was greed.

His thoughts turned to a story he’d heard, ages ago – no doubt apocryphal, as so many of the best stories probably were – about some legendary American millionaire, who lived in an era when a million dollars was a fortune. The story recounted that the man was asked if he knew what ‘enough’ meant.

After some thought, the man is said to have replied, ‘Of course I know. It means a little bit more.’

There was nothing else in the report. Brunetti continued to study the view from his window which now consisted of clouds and patches of blue sky.

The days passed, and he did his job, always on the alert for a call from Duso. He phoned Alaimo to ask if his men had scouted the area near Cortellazzo for a possible landing place. The Captain told him that his men were familiarizing themselves with the areas on both sides of the Piave and said very carefully that they were leaving no traces of having been there. The rest of Brunetti’s time was spent on paperwork.

Brunetti read the reports of his subordinates and sometimes asked them to come and explain things to him or to tell him anything they seemed reluctant to commit to writing in an official report. He decided whom to assign to particular investigations.

The only real change was reported by Lucy Watson’s doctor, who called from the Ospedale dell’Angelo to tell Brunetti that the girl had regained consciousness. Brunetti could hear the man’s delight as he explained that she’d woken up in the late morning and, seeing her father sitting beside her, tapping a message into his phone, had asked, ‘What are you doing here, Daddy?’

The doctor explained that, though she recognized her father and could speak normally, her memory of recent events extended back only to the beginning of the boat ride with the Italians they’d met that Saturday night. She was confused to be in the hospital, by the explanation of her injuries, and by the presence of her father.

In response to Brunetti’s questions, the doctor told him that Lucy’s memory of these events would, or would not, return and that his colleagues from neurology were confident that there was no permanent damage.

Brunetti felt a surge of relief for the girl and her father and then for Vio, that his conscience would have less to bear. And then he returned to going through the motions of work while waiting for word from Duso.

He and Paola were at dinner with friends when his phone rang. With haste that might have seemed impolite, Brunetti pulled the phone from his pocket and, seeing Duso’s name, excused himself and went to stand on the other side of the door to the living room.

‘Sì?’ he asked in a voice he was careful to keep calm.

‘Marcello just called me,’ Duso said.

Brunetti looked at his watch. It was already after eleven. ‘What did he say?’

‘Pietro called him and said they had a job.’

‘Did he say anything else?’

‘No, only that. Marcello’s on his way to the boathouse now.’

Brunetti, hoping this call would come, had made a plan with Alaimo. ‘Go down to the riva in front of your calle,’ he told Duso. ‘A boat from the Capitaneria will be there in a few minutes and take you to Piazzale Roma.’ He heard a noise of assent from Duso. ‘Wear a heavy jacket,’ Brunetti said and hung up.

He dialled Alaimo’s number and said, ‘Duso just called. Tell your man he’ll be on the riva near where he lives. He’ll see him. I’m not at home. You can pick me up at the Santo Spirito stop in ten minutes.’ They had discussed routes and times, so there was nothing more to say.

He hung up and dialled Griffoni’s number. While he and Alaimo went by sea, she would travel with Duso and Nieddu, who was involved because the case concerned international crime. Alaimo had already sent a boat to go and pick up Griffoni – one that looked like a taxi that would avoid any possibility that Borgato should cross paths with a police launch at this hour – and take her to Piazzale Roma, where they’d meet Duso. Two unmarked cars and a small van would be waiting there to leave for Cortellazzo.