Back in his office, the first thing Brunetti did after he opened the window was call Lele. There was no answer at his house, so Brunetti tried the gallery, where the painter picked up the phone after six rings.
‘About that person?’ Lele answered, making it clear that he couldn’t talk freely.
‘Yes. Is someone there?’
‘Ah, yes, now that you mention it, I think that’s true. Are you going to be in your office for a while, Signor Scarpa?’
‘Yes, I will be. For another hour or so.’
‘Good, then, Signor Scarpa. I’ll call you there when I’m free.’
‘Thanks, Lele,’ Brunetti said and hung up.
Who was it that Lele didn’t want to know he was talking with a commissario of police?
He turned to the papers in the file, making a note here and there. He had been in contact with the special branch of police that dealt with art theft on several occasions in the past, but at this point all he had to give them was Semenzato’s name and no proof of anything at all. Semenzato might indeed have a reputation that did not appear in official reports, the sort that never got written down.
Four years ago, he had dealt with one of the captains of the art branch in Rome, about a Gothic altarpiece stolen from the church of San Giacomo dell’Orio. Giulio something or other, but Brunetti couldn’t remember his surname. He reached for the phone and dialled Signorina Elettra’s number.
‘Yes, Commissario?’ she asked when he identified himself.
‘Have you had any response from Heinegger or your friends at the bank?’
‘This afternoon, sir.’
‘Good. Until then, I’d like you to take a look in the files and see if you can find a name for me, a captain of the art theft bureau in Rome. Giulio something. He and I corresponded about a theft at San Giacomo dell’Orio. About four years ago. Perhaps five.’
‘Have you any idea how it would be filed, sir?’
‘Either under my name, since I wrote the original report, or under the name of the church, or perhaps under art theft.’ He thought for a moment and then added, ‘You might check the record of a certain Sandro — Alessandro, that is - Benelli, whose address used to be in San Lio. I think he’s still in prison, but there might be some mention of the captain’s name in there. I think he provided a deposition at the trial.’
‘Certainly, sir. Today?’
‘Yes, signorina, if you could.’
‘I’ll go down to the files and take a look now. Maybe I can find something before lunch.’
The optimism of youth. ‘Thank you, signorina,’ he said and hung up. As soon as he did, the phone rang, and it was Lele.
‘I couldn’t talk, Guido. I had someone in the gallery who I think might be useful to you in this.’
‘Who?’ When Lele didn’t answer, Brunetti apologized, remembering that he needed the information, not its source. ‘Sorry, Lele. Forget I asked that. What did he tell you?’
‘It seems that Dottor Semenzato was a man of many interests. Not only was he the director of the museum, but he was also a silent partner in two antique shops, one here and one in Milan. The man I was talking to works in one of the shops.’
Brunetti resisted the urge to ask which one. Instead, he remained silent, knowing that Lele would tell him what he thought necessary.
‘It seems that the owner of these shops — not Semenzato, the official owner — has access to pieces that never appear in the shops. The man I spoke to said that twice in the past certain pieces have been brought in and unpacked by mistake. As soon as the owner saw them, he had them repacked and taken away, said that they were for his private collection.’
‘Did he tell you what these pieces were?’
‘He said that one of them was a Chinese bronze, and the other was a piece of pre-Islamic ceramic. He also said, and I thought this might interest you, that he was fairly certain he had seen a photo of the ceramic in an article about the pieces taken from the Kuwait Museum.’
‘When did this happen?’ Brunetti asked.
‘The first time, about a year ago, and then three months ago,’ Lele answered.
‘Did he tell you anything else?’
‘He said that the owner has a number of clients who have access to this private collection.’
‘How did he know that?’
‘Sometimes, when he was talking to these clients, the owner would refer to pieces he had, but the pieces weren’t in the shop. Or he’d telephone one of these clients and tell him he was getting a particular item on a certain date, but then the piece would never come into the shop. But, later, it would sound like a sale had taken place.’
‘Why would he tell you this, Lele?’ Brunetti asked, though he knew he wasn’t supposed to.
