react, and then repeated, 'No one cares because they all think that,
sooner or later, they might get a chance at some of the easy money, so
it's in their best interests that the system stay the way it is. And
it does.'
Since Brunetti knew this to be the case, there was no reason to object
to his friend's remarks. Returning to Avisani's original reaction, he
asked, 'Is that the only way they're linked?'
'No. They graduated in the same class from the Academy in Modena/
'And after that?' Brunetti asked.
'I don't know. I doubt it's important. What is, is that they knew one
another well and that both were eventually involved in procurement.'
'And both retired?'
'Yes, pretty much at the same time.'
'Where's Filippi, do you know?' Brunetti asked.
'I think he lives in Verona. You want me to find out about him?'
'Yes.'
'How much?'
'Whatever you can.'
'And I suppose you'll pay me the same as you always do?' Avisani asked
with a laugh.
'You don't want to eat my wife's cooking?' Brunetti asked with fake
indignation, then, before Avisani could answer,
Brunetti said, 'I don't want you to go to any trouble with this,
Beppe.'
This time it was the journalist who laughed. 'Guido, if I worried
about going to trouble, or, for that matter, getting into trouble, I
doubt I could do this job.'
Thanks, Beppe,' Brunetti said, and the warmth of the other man's
parting laugh told him that their friendship remained as strong as
ever.
He went downstairs, and though he tried to resist the siren lure of
Signorina Elettra and her computer, he failed. There was no light on
in her office, and the darkened screen of the computer suggested she
had not yet found what he had asked her to get. There was nothing else
for him to do, short of rifling through her desk, so he went home to
his family and his dinner.
The next morning he was at the Questura before eight, and when his
detour past Signorina Elettra's office showed that she was not yet in,
he continued to the officers' room, where he found Pucetti at a desk,
reading a magazine. The young man got to his feet when he saw
Brunetti. 'Good morning, Commissario. I was hoping you'd come in
early.'
'What have you got?' Brunetti asked. He was vaguely conscious of
motion behind him, and he saw its reflection on Pucetti's face, from
which the smile disappeared. 'Only these forms, sir he said, reaching
across his desk to the one beside it and gathering up two stacks of
papers. 'I think they need your signature,' he said, his voice
neutral.
Imitating his tone, Brunetti said, 'I've got to go down to see Bocchese
for a minute. Could you take them up and put them on my desk for
me?'
'Certainly, sir,' Pucetti said, setting one stack, and then the second,
on top of his magazine and tapping them together to straighten the
edges. When he picked them up, the magazine had disappeared.
Brunetti turned towards the door and found it blocked by
Lieutenant Scarpa. 'Good morning, Lieutenant/ Brunetti said neutrally.
'Is there something I can do for you?'
'No, sir the lieutenant answered. 'I wanted to speak to Pucetti/
Brunetti's face lit up with grateful surprise. 'Ah, thank you for
reminding me, Lieutenant: there's something I need to ask Pucetti
about.' He turned to the young man. 'You can wait for me in my
office, Officer. I won't be a minute with Bocchese.' With a friendly
smile at the lieutenant, Brunetti said, 'You know how Bocchese loves to
get an early start suggesting this was common knowledge at the
Questura, despite the well-known truth that Bocchese spent the first
hour of his day reading La Gazzetta del lo Sport and using his email
address at the Questura to place bets in three countries.
Silently, the lieutenant moved aside to let his superior pass.
Brunetti waited just outside the door until Pucetti joined him and then
closed the door of the office behind them.
'Oh, I suppose Bocchese can wait a few minutes Brunetti said
resignedly. When they got to his office, Brunetti closed the door
