‘Yes, that’s true,’ she admitted. She licked her lips nervously, drawing closer to the bait. He remained silent, motionless, unwilling to disturb the waters. She played idly with one of the buttons at the front of her dress, twisting it back and forth in a semicircle. Finally, she said, ‘There was something, but I don’t know if it’s important.’
‘Well, perhaps it will be. Remember, Signorina, anything you can tell me will help the Maestro.’ Somehow he knew that she was blind to the colossal idiocy of this statement. He put his pen down and folded his hands, priestlike, and waited for her to speak.
‘There were two things. Ever since he came down this time, he seemed to be more and more distracted, as if his thoughts were somewhere else. No, that’s not it, not exactly. It’s as if he didn’t care any longer what happened around him.’ She trailed off, not satisfied.
‘Perhaps you could give me an example,’ he prompted.
She shook her head, not liking this at all. ‘No, I’m not saying this right. I don’t know how to explain it. In the past, he would always ask me what had happened while he was away, ask about the house, about the maids, and what I had been doing.’ Was she blushing? ‘The Maestro knew that I loved music, that I went to concerts and operas while he was away, and he was always very careful to ask me about; them. But this time when he came, there was none of that. He said hello when he arrived, and he asked me how I was, but he didn’t seem to care at all about what I said to him. A few times—no, there was one time. I had to go into the study to ask him what time he wanted me to have dinner ready. He had a rehearsal that afternoon, and I didn’t know what time it was supposed to end, so I went to the study to ask him. I knocked and went in, just the way I always did. But he ignored me, pretended I wasn’t there, made me wait a few minutes while he finished writing something. I don’t know why he did it, but he kept me waiting there, like a servant. Finally, I was so embarrassed that I started to leave. After twenty years, he wouldn’t do that to me, keep me waiting like a criminal in front of a judge.’ As she spoke, Brunetti saw her agony rekindled in her eyes.
‘At last, when I turned around to leave, he looked up and pretended that he had just seen me there. He pretended I had appeared out of nowhere to ask him a question. I asked him when he planned to be back. I’m afraid I spoke angrily. I raised my voice to him, for the first time in twenty years. But he ignored that and just told me what time he would be back. And then I suppose he was sorry about how he had treated me, because he told me how beautiful the flowers were. He always liked to have flowers in the house when he was here.’ She trailed away, adding irrelevantly, ‘They’re delivered from Biancat. From all the way across the Grand Canal.’
Brunetti had no idea whether what he was hearing was outrage or pain, or both. To be a servant for twenty years is certainly to win the right not to be treated like a servant.
‘There were other things too, but I didn’t think anything of them at the time.’
‘What things?’
‘He seemed . . .’ she said, thinking as she spoke of a way to say something and not to say it at the same time. ‘He seemed older. I know, it had been a year since I last saw him, but the difference was greater than that. He had always been so young, so full of life. But this time he seemed like an old man.’ To offer evidence of this, she added, ‘He had begun to wear glasses. But not for reading.’
‘Did that seem strange to you, Signorina?’
‘Yes; people of my age,’ she said frankly, ‘we usually begin to need them for reading, for things that are close to us, but he didn’t wear them for reading.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘Because sometimes I’d take him his afternoon tea and I’d find him reading, but he wouldn’t be wearing them. When he saw me, he’d pick them up and put them on, or he’d just signal me to put the tray down, as if he didn’t want to be bothered or interrupted.’ She slopped.
‘You said there were two things, Signorina; May I ask what the other was?’
‘I think I’d rather not say,’ she replied nervously.
‘If it’s not important, then it won’t matter. But if it is, it might help us find whoever did this.’
‘I’m not sure; it’s nothing I’m sure about,’ she said, weakening. ‘It’s only something I sensed. Between them.’ The way she said the last word made it clear who the other part of the ‘them’ was. Brunetti said nothing, determined to wait her out.
‘This time they were different. In the past, they were always ... I don’t know how to describe it. They were close, always close, talking, sharing things, touching each other.’ Her tone showed how much she disapproved of this as a way for married people to behave. ‘But this time when they came, they were different with each other. It wasn’t anything other people would have noticed. They were still very polite with each other, but they never touched anymore, the way they used to, when no one could see them.’ But when she could. She looked at him. ‘I’m not sure if this makes any sense.’
‘Yes, I think it does, Signorina. Have you any idea of what might have caused this coolness between them?’
He saw the answer, or at least the suspicion of an answer, surface in her eyes, but then he watched it just as quickly disappear. Though he had seen it there, he could not be sure if she was aware of what had just happened. ‘Any idea at all?’ he prodded. The instant he spoke, he realized he had gone too far.
‘No. None.’ She shook her head from side to side, freeing herself.
‘Do you know if any of the other servants might have seen this?’
She sat up straighter in her chair. ‘That is not something I would discuss with servants.’
‘Of course, of course,’ he muttered. ‘I certainly didn’t mean to suggest that.’ He could see that she already regretted having told him what little she had. It would be best to minimize what she had told him so that she would not be reluctant to repeat it, should this ever become necessary, or to add to it, should this ever become possible. ‘I appreciate what you’ve told me, Signorina. It confirms what we’ve heard from other sources. There is certainly no need to tell you that it will be held in strictest confidence. If you think of anything else, please call me at the Questura.’
‘I don’t want you to think ...’ she began, but couldn’t bring herself to name what he might think of her.
‘I assure you that I think of you only as someone who continues to be very loyal to the Maestro.’ Since it was true, it was the least he could give her. The lines in her face softened minimally. He stood and extended his hand.
