‘Good, good. She’s an important benefactress of the city, and she’s to be treated accordingly.’
Brunetti allowed that to trickle away and then resumed. ‘There was a Japanese assistant who came here to close the exhibition and send the pieces back to China.’
‘Dottoressa Lynch’s assistant?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A woman?’ Patta asked sharply.
Patta’s tone so dirtied the word that Brunetti had to pause for a moment before he replied, ‘Yes, sir. A woman.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘Shall I go on, sir?!
‘Yes, yes. Of course.’
‘Dottoressa Lynch told me that the woman was killed in an accident in China.’
‘What kind of accident?’ Patta asked, as if this would turn out to have been an inescapable consequence of her sexual proclivities.
‘In a fall at the archaeological site where they were working.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘Three months ago. It was after Dottoressa Lynch wrote to Semenzato to say that she thought some of the pieces that had been returned to China were false.’
‘And this woman who was killed was the one who packed them?’
‘It would seem so, sir.’
‘Did you ask Dottoressa Lynch what her relationship was to this woman?’
Well, he hadn’t, had he? ‘No, sir. I didn’t. The Dottoressa seemed troubled by her death and by the possibility of the young woman’s involvement in whatever is going on here, but there was no more than that.’
‘Are you sure of that, Brunetti?’ Patta’s eyes actually narrowed when he asked this.
‘Absolutely, sir. I’d stake my reputation on it.’ As he always did when he lied to Patta, he stared him directly in the eyes, careful to keep his own open fully, his gaze level. ‘Shall I go on, sir?’ As soon as he said it, Brunetti realized he didn’t have anything else to say — well, anything else he wanted to say to Patta. Surely not that the Japanese girl’s family was so wealthy that she would, presumably, have had no financial interest in the substitution of pieces. The thought of the way Patta would respond to the idea of sexual jealousy as a motive made Brunetti feel faintly queasy.
‘Do you think this Japanese woman knew that false pieces were sent back to China?’
‘It’s possible, sir.’
‘But it is not possible,’ Patta said with heavy emphasis, ‘that she could have organized it herself. She must have had help here, here in Venice.’
‘It would seem so, sir. That’s a possibility I’m pursuing.’
‘How?’
‘I’ve initiated an investigation of Dottor Semenzato’s finances.’
‘On whose authority?’ Patta snapped.
‘My own, sir.’
Patta let that stand as said. ‘What else?’
‘I’ve already spoken to some people about Semenzato, and I expect to get information about his real reputation.’
‘What do you mean, “real reputation”?’
Oh, so seldom does fate cast our enemy into our hands, to do with as we will. ‘Don’t you think, sir, that every bureaucrat has an official reputation, what people say about him publicly, and then the real reputation, what people know to be true and say about him in private?’
Patta turned his right palm upward on his desk and moved his pinkie ring around on his finger with his thumb, examining it to see that he got the motion right. ‘Perhaps. Perhaps.’ He looked up from his palm. ‘Go on, Brunetti.’
‘I thought I’d begin with these things and see where they lead me.’
‘Yes, that sounds fair enough to me,’ Patta said. ‘Remember, I want to know about anything you do or find out.’ He consulted his Rolex Oyster. ‘I don’t want to keep you from getting busy with this, Brunetti.’
Brunetti stood, recognizing Patta’s lunch hour when it struck. He started towards the door, curious only about the way Patta would remind him to handle Brett with kid gloves.
‘And Brunetti,’ Patta said as Brunetti reached the door.
‘Yes, sir?’ he said, really curious, something he very seldom was with Patta.
‘I want you to handle Dottoressa Lynch with kid gloves.’ Ah, so that’s how he’d say it.
* * * *
Chapter Thirteen
