Through a glass, darkly

processed, then identified and collected by people claiming to be their parents or guardians, though because they were gypsies, few of them had documents which could prove this.

And then came the shock story in one of the weekly newspaper inserts about the fate of such young boys in more than one South American city, where they were reportedly being executed by squads of off-duty policemen. 'Well, we aren't there yet’ Brunetti muttered to himself as he finished reading the article. There were many qualities in his fellow citizens that Brunetti, as a policeman, abhorred: their willingness to accommodate crime; their failure to trust the law; their lack of rage at the inefficiency of the legal system. But we don't shoot children in the street because they steal oranges, he said, though he was not at all sure if this was sufficient reason for civic pride.

Like an epileptic sensing the imminence of a seizure, Brunetti knew he was best advised to use work to distract himself from these thoughts. He took out his notebook and found the phone number Tassini's mother-in-law had given him. A man answered.

'Signor Tassini?' Brunetti asked.

'Si’

'This is Commissario Guido Brunetti, Signore.' He paused, waiting for Tassini's question, but the man said nothing, and so Brunetti continued. 'I wonder if I could trouble you for some of your time, Signor Tassini. I'd like to speak to you.'

'Are you the one who was here?' Tassini asked, making no attempt to hide his suspicion.

'Yes, I am’ Brunetti answered easily. 'I spoke to your mother-in-law, but she could give me very little information.'

'What about?' Tassini asked neutrally.

'About the place where you work, Signore’ he said and again waited for Tassini to respond.

'What about it?'

'It has to do with your employer, Giovanni De Cal. That's why I chose to contact you away from your place of work. We would prefer that your employer not learn that we're taking an interest in him.' This was true enough, and it was similarly true that De Cal could cause considerable trouble if he were to learn that Brunetti was in essence running a private investigation.

'Is it about my complaint?' Tassini asked, curiosity getting the better of his distrust.

'It's about that, of course,' Brunetti lied effortlessly, 'as well as about Signor De Cal and a report we've had about him.'

'A report from whom?' Tassini asked.

'I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to reveal that, Signor Tassini. I'm sure you understand that everything we're told, we're told in confidence.' He waited to see if Tassini would swallow this, and when his silence suggested that he had, Brunetti asked, 'Would it be possible to speak to you?'

After some hesitation, Tassini asked, 'When?'

'Whenever it's convenient for you, Signore.'

Tassini's voice, when he answered, was less easy than it had been a moment before. 'How did you get this number?'

'Your mother-in-law gave it to me,' Brunetti said. Softening his voice and putting into it a note of near- embarrassment, he added 'Your mother-in-law told me you have no telefonino, Signor Tassini. Speaking personally, I'd like to compliment you on the wisdom of that decision.' He ended with a half- laugh.

'You think they're dangerous, too?' Tassini asked eagerly.

'From what I've read, I'd say there's good reason to believe it’ Brunetti said. From what he had read, there was also good reason to believe that automobiles, central heating, and aeroplanes were dangerous, but this was a sentiment he chose not to reveal to Signor Tassini.

'When do you want to meet?' Tassini asked.

'If you could possibly spare me the time right now, I could be there in about fifteen minutes.'

The line sang emptily for a long time, but Brunetti resisted the impulse to speak. 'All right’ Tassini said, 'but not here at the house. There's a bar opposite San Francesco di Paola.'

'On the corner before the park?' Brunetti asked.

'Yes.'

'I know it, the place that draws the little hearts on the cappuccino schiuma, no?'

'Yes’ said Tassini in a gentler tone.

'I'll be there in fifteen minutes’ said Brunetti and put down the phone.

When Brunetti entered the bar, he looked around for a man who might be the night-watchman in a glass factory. There was one man at the bar, drinking a coffee and talking to the barman. Another pair stood farther along, two coffees in front of them, one man with a briefcase propped against his leg. Another man with a large nose and a peculiarly small head stood at the end of the bar, feeding one-Euro coins into a video poker machine. His gestures were rhythmic: feed a coin, punch a button, wait to see the flashing results, punch more buttons, wait again to see the results, quick double sip at a glass of red wine, then another coin.

Brunetti excluded them all, as he did a young man next to the poker player, who was drinking what looked like a gingerino. There were four tables against the back wall: at one of them sat three women, each with a cup and a pot of tea. They were handing around photographs and exclaiming in enthusiasm that sounded genuine enough for it to be a baby and not a vacation. At the last table, in the angle behind the bar, sat a man who glanced in Brunetti's direction. He had a glass of water in front of him, and as Brunetti moved towards him, the man raised the glass in his left hand and saluted him with it.

The man got to his feet and extended his hand. 'Tassini,' he said. He was tall, perhaps in his mid-thirties, with large dark eyes set wide apart and a nose that seemed too small to fill the space left for it. He had an untrimmed beard with some grey in it that covered, though it did not hide, the hollowness of his cheeks. Brunetti had seen that face on countless icons: the suffering Christ. 'Commissario Brunetti?' Tassini asked.

Brunetti took his hand and thanked him for agreeing to speak to him. 'What would you like to drink?' Tassini asked when Brunetti was seated, raising his hand to catch the attention of the barman.

'Since I'm here’ Brunetti said with a smile, 'I should have a cappuccino, don't you think?' He sat, and Tassini called the order to the barman. For some time, neither man spoke.

Brunetti finally said, 'Signor Tassini, as I told you on the phone, we'd like to speak to you about Giovanni De Cal, your employer.' Before Tassini could ask, Brunetti added, using his gravest voice, 'And, of course, about your complaint.'

'So you're beginning to believe me, eh?' Tassini asked, using the plural.

'We're certainly interested in listening to what you have to say,' Brunetti said. He was spared the need to elaborate by the arrival of the barman with his cappuccino. As he anticipated, the foam had been poured in a swirling motion that created a heart on the surface. He tore open a packet of sugar and poured it in. He stirred the coffee around, and broke its heart.

'What about my letters, then?' Tassini asked.

'That's certainly part of the reason I'm here, Signor Tassini,' Brunetti said and took a sip of his coffee. It was still too hot to drink, so he set the cup back in the saucer to let it cool.

'Did you read them?'

Brunetti gave him his most direct look. 'Ordinarily, if this were part of an official investigation, I'm afraid I'd lie here and say I had,' he said, trying to sound faintly embarrassed by the confession. 'But in this case, let me deal frankly, right from the start.' Before Tassini could reply, he went on. 'They're in a file held by another division. But I've been told about them by people who have read them, and some excerpts have been passed on to us.'

'But they were addressed to you’ Tassini insisted. 'That is, to the police.'

'Yes’ Brunetti acknowledged with a nod, 'but we're detectives, and such things don't get sent on to us automatically. The letters were given to the complaints department and a file was opened. But before those files are processed and passed on to the people who actually will conduct an investigation, months can pass.' He saw the anguished look on Tassini's face, saw him open his mouth to protest, and added, lowering his face in feigned embarrassment again, 'or even longer.'

'But you know about them?'

'I've been told about them, as I've said, but it's come to me third hand.' Brunetti looked across at Tassini and