A Sea of Troubles

their wives had any idea they gambled. For a moment he contemplated the possibility that Paola had sold her soul to the devil in exchange for the mystic power to read his mind. No, she was too smart to make that bad a bargain.

'Or do you want to call the Questura first?' she asked.

He started to explain what it was but stopped himself, as if silence would keep Signorina Elettra safe. 'I'll use the telefonino,' he said and took it from the dresser where he had left it in anticipation of a peaceful evening with friends. Paola went down to the living room to make her call, and he punched in the familiar number of the Questura. He asked that a boat collect him and take him out to Pellestrina. He pushed the little blue button, dialled Vianello's number and, careful to remember the instructions he'd been given when issued the phone, pushed the blue button again.

Vianello's wife answered. When she heard who it was she made no attempt at pleasantry, but said she'd get Lorenzo. The radar of policemen's wives knew when an evening was ruined: some were gracious, others were not.

'Yes, sir?' the sergeant asked.

'Pucetti just called. From a public phone. They've fished up a body.'

'I'll be at the Giardini stop,' Vianello said and hung up.

He was there fifteen minutes later, but he was not in uniform, nor did he do more than raise his hand in acknowledgement to Brunetti when the boat slowed without stopping to allow him to step on board. Vianello assumed he'd been told everything Brunetti knew, so he didn't waste time asking questions, nor did he voice Signorina Elettra's name.

'Nadia?' Brunetti asked in the shorthand of long association.

'Her parents were taking us to dinner.'

'Anything special?' 'Our anniversary’ Vianello answered. Instead of apologizing, Brunetti asked, 'How many?' 'Fifteen.'

The launch swung to the right, taking them down towards Malamocco and Pellestrina. 'I called for a scene of crime team to come out’ Brunetti said. 'But the pilot'll have to go around and collect them, so I doubt they'll be out any time soon.'

'How do we explain getting there so quickly?' Vianello asked.

‘I can say someone called us.'

‘I hope no one saw Pucetti making the call, then.'

Brunetti, who almost never remembered to carry his, asked, 'Why wasn't he given a telefonino?’

'Most of the young ones have their own, sir.' 'Does he?'

'I don't know. But I suppose not, if he called you from a public phone.'

'Stupid thing to do’ Brunetti said, aware as he spoke that he was transforming the fear he felt for Signorina Elettra into anger at the young officer for provoking his fear in the first place.

Brunetti's telefonino rang. When he answered it, the operator at the Questura said that a call had just come in, a man saying that a woman's body had been pulled up in the nets of a boat and had been taken to the dock at Pellestrina.

'Did he give his name?' Brunetti asked. 'No, sir.'

'Did he say he'd found the body?'

'No, sir. All he said was that a boat had come in with a body, not that he'd had anything to do with it’

Brunetti thanked him and hung up. He turned to Vianello. 'It's a woman.' The sergeant didn't say anything, so Brunetti asked, 'If all those boats have radios and phones, why didn't they call us?'

'Most people don't much want to get involved with us.'

'If they've got a woman's body in their fishing nets, it doesn't seem to me there's any way they can help getting involved with us’ Brunetti said, transferring a bit of his anger to Vianello.

'People don't think of those things, I'm afraid. Perhaps most of all when they've got a woman's body in their nets.'

Knowing the sergeant was right and sorry he'd spoken so sharply, Brunetti said, 'Of course, of course.'

The lights of Malamocco swept by, then the Alberoni, and then there was nothing but the long straight sweep towards Pellestrina. Soon, ahead of them they saw the scattered lights of the houses and the straight line of lights on the dock along which the town was built. Strangely enough, there was no evidence that anything extraordinary had taken place, for there were only a few people visible on the riva. Surely, even the Pellestrinotti could not have been so quickly hardened to death.

The pilot, who had not been out to Pellestrina during this investigation, started to pull the launch into the empty place in the line of fishing boats. Brunetti jumped up the steps and put a hand on his shoulder, saying, 'No, not here. Down at the end.'

Instantly, the pilot reversed the engines, and the boat slowed, then started to pull back from the riva. 'Over there, to the right,' Brunetti told him, and the pilot brought the boat gently up to the dock. Vianello tossed the mooring rope to a man who approached them, and as soon as he had tied it round the metal stanchion, Brunetti and Vianello jumped from the boat.

'Where is she?' Brunetti asked, leaving it to the boat's markings to explain who they were.

'Over here,' the man said, turning back towards the small group of people who stood in the dim light cast by the street lamps. As Brunetti and Vianello approached, the group separated, creating a passage towards what lay on the pavement.

Her feet lay in a pool of light, her head in darkness, but when Brunetti saw the blonde hair, he knew who it was. Fighting down a surge of relief, he drew closer. At first he thought her eyes were closed, that some gentle soul had pressed them closed for her, but then he saw that they were gone. He remembered that one of the policemen had explained the decision to bring up the bodies of the Bottins because there were crabs down below. He had read books in which the stomachs of people in situations like this were said to heave, but what Brunetti felt registered in his heart, which pounded wildly for a few seconds and did not grow steady until he looked away from the woman's face, out over the calm waters of the laguna.

Vianello had the presence of mind to ask, 'Who found her?'

A short, stocky man stepped forward from the shadows. 'I did,' he said, careful to keep his eyes on Vianello rather than on the silent woman over whom all of this was being said.

'Where did you find her? And when?' Vianello asked.

The man pointed in the general direction of the mainland, off to the north. 'Out there, about two hundred metres offshore, right at the mouth of the Canale di Ca' Roman.'

When he failed to answer Vianello's second question, Brunetti repeated it. 'When?'

The man glanced down at his watch. 'About an hour ago. I brought her up in my net, but it took me a long time to get her alongside the boat.' He looked back and forth between Brunetti and Vianello, as if searching to see which of them would be more likely to believe what he said. 'I was alone in my sandolo, and I was afraid I'd capsize if I pulled her in.' He stopped.

'So what did you do?'

'I towed her,' he said, obviously troubled by having to confess this. 'It was the only way to get her here.'

'Did you recognize her?' Brunetti asked.

He nodded.

Glad not to have to look at Signora Follini, Brunetti let his eyes rove around the faces of the people above her, but Signorina Elettra was not among them. If they looked down at the body, their faces disappeared in the shadows cast by the overhead lights, but most of them preferred not to. 'When did any of you see her last?' he asked.

No one answered.

He caught the eye of the one woman standing in the group. 'You, Signora,' he said, keeping his voice soft, merely inquisitive, no trace of authority in it. 'Can you remember when you last saw Signora Follini?'

The woman stared back at him with frightened eyes, then glanced to right and left. Finally she said, all in a rush, 'A week ago. Maybe five days. I went to the store for toilet paper.' Suddenly aware of what she had said in front of all these men, she covered her mouth with her hand, looked down, then quickly up again.

'Perhaps we could move away from here,' Brunetti suggested, moving back towards the bright windows of the houses. A man approached from the direction of the village carrying a blanket. As he drew close to the body,