‘Certainly,’ Brunetti said blandly, but he smiled to show that he understood. ‘Do you allow people to see the other pieces in your collection? If these,’ Brunetti said, waving a hand lightly in a gesture that encompassed the entire room, ‘are any indication, then it must be very impressive.’
‘Ah, Commissario, I’m sorry.’ La Capra said with a small shake of his head, ‘but I’m afraid that would be impossible just now.’
‘Yes?’ Brunetti inquired politely
‘You see, the room where I plan to display them isn’t finished to my satisfaction yet. The lighting, the tiles for the floor, even the ceiling panels — none of them makes me happy, so I would be embarrassed, yes, actually embarrassed, to allow anyone to see it now. But I’d be very happy to invite you back to see my collection when the room is finished and,’ he paused, searching for the proper final word, and finding it, ‘presentable.’
‘That’s very kind of you, signore. I’ll plan, then, on seeing you again?’
La Capra nodded, but he did not smile.
‘I’m sure you’re a very busy man,’ Brunetti said and got to his feet. How strange, he thought, for a lover of art to feel the least reluctance to show his collection to someone who displayed curiosity or enthusiasm for beautiful things. Brunetti had never known it to happen before. And even stranger that, during all this talk of crime in the city, La Capra had not seen fit to mention either of the two incidents which had, this very week, shattered the calm of Venice and the lives of people who, like himself, were lovers of beauty.
When he saw Brunetti stand, La Capra got up and accompanied him to the door. In fact, he went down the steps with him, across die open courtyard, and to the front door of the
* * * *
Chapter Twenty
The half hour spent with La Capra made Brunetti reluctant to risk having to speak to Patta on the same afternoon, but he decided to go back to the Questura anyway, to see what messages had come in for him. Two people had called: Giulio Carrara, asking that Brunetti call him in Rome, and Flavia Petrelli, saying she would call again later in the afternoon.
He had the operator put a call through to Rome and was soon speaking to the
‘What is it?’
‘Two days ago, we stopped a shipment of alabaster ashtrays coming into Livorno from Hong Kong, on their way to a wholesaler in Verona. The usual thing — he gets the ashtrays, attaches labels to them, and sells them, “Made in Italy”.’
‘Why did you stop the shipment? That hardly sounds like the sort of thing you people are interested in.’
‘One of the little people in our stable told us that it might be a good idea to take a closer look at the shipment.’
‘For labelling?’ Brunetti asked, still not understanding. ‘Isn’t that the sort of thing the finance boys take care of?’
‘Oh, they’d been paid off,’ Carrara said dismissively, ‘so the shipment would have been safe until it got to Verona. But it’s what we found in with the ashtrays that made him call us.’
Brunetti knew a hint when he heard one. ‘What did you find?’
‘You know what Angkor Wat is, don’t you?’
‘In Cambodia?’
‘If you ask that, then you know. Four of the crates had statues that had been taken from the temples there.’
‘Are you sure?’ As soon as he spoke, Brunetti wished he had phrased the question differently.
‘It’s our business to be sure,’ Carrara said, but only in simple explanation. ‘Three of the pieces were spotted in Bangkok a few years ago, but they disappeared from the market before the police there could confiscate them.’
‘Giulio, I don’t understand how you can be sure they come from Angkor Wat.’
‘The French made pretty extensive drawings of the temple grounds when Cambodia was still a colony and since then much of it has been photographed. Two of the statues we found had been, so we were sure.’
‘When were the photographs taken?’ Brunetti asked.
‘In 1985. An archaeological team from some university in America spent a few months there, sketching and photographing, but then the fighting moved too close and they had to get out. But we’ve got copies of all the work they did. So we’re sure, absolutely sure, about two of the pieces, and the other two are likely to have come from the same source.’
‘Any idea where they’re going?’
‘No. The best we have is the address of the wholesaler in Verona.’
‘Have you moved on this yet?’
‘We’ve got two men watching the warehouse in Livorno. We’ve got a tap on the phone there and in the office in Verona.’
Though Brunetti thought this an extraordinary response to the finding of a mere four statues, he kept the idea
