Brunetti resisted the temptation to say, 'At ease.' With a neutral,
Thank you', he went back toward the staircase.
At the top, he followed the boy's instructions and stopped at the third
door on the left. com andante giulio be mbo read a sign next to the
door.
Brunetti knocked, paused and waited for an answer, and knocked again.
He thought he'd take advantage of the absence of the Comandante to have
a look at his office, and so he turned the handle and entered. It is
difficult to say who was more startled, Brunetti or the man who stood
in front of one of the windows, a sheaf of papers in his hand.
'Oh, I beg your pardon,' Brunetti said. 'One of the students told me
to come up and wait for you in your office. I had no idea you were
here.' He turned towards the door and then back again, as if confused
as to whether he should remain or leave.
The man in front of the window was facing Brunetti, and the light that
shone in from behind him made it almost impossible for Brunetti to
distinguish anything about him. He could see, however, that he wore a
uniform different from that of the boys, lighter and with no stripe
down the side of the trousers. The rows of medals on his chest were
more than a hand span wide.
The man set the papers on his desk, making no attempt to approach
Brunetti. 'And you are?' he asked, managing to sound bored with the
question.
'Commissario Guide Brunetti, sir,' he said. 'I've been sent to
investigate the report of a death here.' This was not strictly true,
for Brunetti had sent himself to investigate, but he saw
no reason why the Comandante should be told this. He stepped forward
and extended his hand quite naturally, as though he were too dull to
have registered the coolness emanating from the other man.
After a pause long enough to indicate who was in charge, Bembo stepped
forward and extended his hand. His grip was firm and gave every
indication that the Comandante was restraining himself from exerting
his full force out of consideration for what it would do to Brunetti's
hand.
'Ah, yes,' Bembo said, 'a commissa rio He allowed a pause to extend
the statement and then went on, 'I'm surprised my friend Vice-Questore
Patta didn't think to call me to tell me you were coming.'
Brunetti wondered if the reference to his superior, who was unlikely to
appear in his office for at least another hour, was meant to make him
rug humbly at his forelock while telling Bembo he would do everything
in his power to see that he was not disturbed by the investigation.
'I'm sure he will as soon as I give him my preliminary report,
Comandante/ Brunetti said.
'Of course,' Bembo said and moved around his desk to take his chair. He
waved what was no doubt a gracious hand to Brunetti, who seated
himself. Brunetti wanted to see how eager Bembo was to have the
investigation begin. From the way the Comandante moved small objects
around on the top of his desk, pulled together a stack of papers and
tapped them into line, it seemed that he felt no unseemly haste.
Brunetti remained silent.
'It's all very unfortunate, this Bembo finally said.
Brunetti thought it best to nod.
'It's the first time we've had a suicide at the Academy/ Bembo went
on.
'Yes, it must be shocking. How old was the boy?' Brunetti asked. He
pulled a notebook from the pocket of his jacket and bent the covers
back when he found an empty page. He
patted his pockets then, with an embarrassed smile, leaned forward and
reached for a pencil that lay on the Comandante's desk. 'If I may, sir
he said.
Bembo didn't bother to acknowledge the request. 'Seventeen, I
believe,' he said.
'And his name, sir?' Brunetti asked.
'Ernesto Moro/ Bembo replied.
Brunetti's start of surprise at the mention of one of the city's most
famous names was entirely involuntary.
'Yes/ Bembo said, 'Fernando's son.'
Before his retirement from political life, Dottor Fernando Moro had for
some years served as a Member of Parliament, one of the few men
universally acknowledged to have filled that position honestly and
honourably. The wags of Venice insisted that Moro had been moved from
various committees because his honesty proved inconvenient to his
colleagues: the instant it became evident that he was immune to the
temptations of money and power, his incredulous fellow parliamentarians
found reason to reassign him. His career was often cited as evidence
of the survival of hope in the face of experience, for each chairman
who found Moro appointed to his committee was certain that, this time,
