Through a glass, darkly

'Yes, that's true. I'm afraid his heart wasn't in it’ she said and was gone.

It took closer to twenty minutes, but when she came in she was smiling. 'De Cal and Fasano seem to be quite good friends’ she began, putting some papers on his desk. 'But I won't spoil it for you, Commissario. I'll leave you to read through the lists’ she said, adding more paper. He looked at the numbers and times on the first sheet, and when he glanced up, she had gone.

Indeed, De Cal and Fasano had spoken to one another with some frequency during the last three months: there were at least twelve calls, most of them made by Fasano. He looked at Tassini's number: during the years of his employment by De Cal, he had called the factory seven times. No call had been made to him either from De Cal's office or from his home.

With Fasano, however, the case was rather different. Tassini had been working there only two months when he died, yet the records from his home phone showed that he had called Fasano's telefonino six times, and the factory twice. Fasano, for his part, had called Tassini at home once ten days before he died and once on the day before. In addition, at 11:34 of the night Tassini died, Fasano's telefonino showed a call to the De Cal factory.

Brunetti pulled out the Yellow Pages and looked under Idraulici then dialled the number for Adil-San. When the young woman with the pleasant smile answered, Brunetti give his name and asked if he could speak to her father.

After a bit of music and a few clicks, Brunetti heard Repeta say, 'Good afternoon, Commissario. How can I help you now?'

'One quick question, Signor Repeta,' Brunetti said, seeing no reason to waste time in a formal exchange of pleasantries. 'When I was over at your office, I didn't ask enough about the procedure when you empty the tanks.'

'What is it you'd like to know, Commissario?'

'When you do it, how do you empty the tanks?'

'I'm not sure I understand your question,' Repeta said.

'Do you empty them completely?' Brunetti explained: 'So that you can see inside them, that is.'

'I'd have to look at their bill’ Repeta said, then quickly explained: 'I don't know what system we use with each of the clients, but if I look at the bill, the costs are detailed, so I'll know exactly what we did.' He paused a moment and then asked, 'Would you like me to call you back?'

'No, that's all right’ Brunetti said. 'Now that I've got you on the line, I'd rather wait.'

'All right. It should take only a few minutes.'

Brunetti heard a clack as Repeta set the receiver down, then footsteps, then a rough noise that could have been a door or drawer opening. And then silence. Brunetti gazed out of his window at the sky, studying the clouds and thinking about the weather. He tried to force his mind into a straight line, thinking of nothing but the clear sky and the coming and going of clouds.

The footsteps returned, and then Repeta said, 'From what I see on the invoice, all we do is pick up the barrels of sludge. That means they clean out the tanks themselves.'

'Is this normal?' Brunetti asked.

'Do you mean do the other vetrerie do it this way?'

'Yes.'

'Some do. Some don't. I'd guess about two-thirds of them opt to have us clean out the tanks.'

'Another last question’ Brunetti said, and before Repeta could agree to answer it, he asked, 'Do you service De Cal's factory?'

'That old bastard?' Repeta asked without humour.

'Yes.'

'We did until about three years ago.'

'What happened?'

'He didn't pay for two pick-ups, and then when I called him, he said I'd have to wait to be paid.'

'And so?'

'And so we stopped going there.'

'Did you try to get your money?' Brunetti asked.

'And do what, bring charges against him and spend ten years in the courts?' Repeta asked, still without any sign of humour.

'Do you know who makes the pick-ups now?' Brunetti asked.

Repeta hesitated, but then said 'No', and hung up.

26

The expected summons came at eleven the next morning, by which time Brunetti had read the article—which did not carry Pelusso's byline—three times. An organization in the city administration, it stated, alerted to a case of illegal dumping at a glass factory on Murano, was about to open an investigation. There followed a catalogue of the various inquiries already being conducted by the Magistrate alle Acque, thus leaving no doubt in any reader's mind —though without saying so— that this was the office involved. Because the cases cited all involved the dumping of toxic materials, the reader again was led to believe that the same was true this time. The final paragraph stated that the police, already conducting an investigation into a suspicious death, were also involved.

'The Vice-Questore would like to see you’ Signorina Elettra said when she called his office. Nothing more, a sure sign of trouble at hand.

I'll be right down,' he said, deciding to take with him the folder into which he had put all of the information he had accumulated since first being sucked into the wake of Giorgio Tassini.

Patta's door was open when he got there, so Brunetti could do no more than smile at Signo-rina Elettra, who surprised him by holding up her right hand, fingers lifted in a wide V. Vittoria? Brunetti wondered. More likely vittima. Equally possible, vendetta.

'Shut the door, Brunetti’ Patta said in greeting.

He did as he was told and went and sat, unasked, in the chair in front of Patta's desk. How like being back at school this always was, Brunetti reflected.

'This article’ Patta said, tapping a well-manicured forefinger on the first page of the second section of the Gazzettino. 'Is it yours?'

What could Patta do to him? Expel him? Send him home to get a note from his parents? His father was dead, and his mother was an empty shell, her mind filled with the tiny filaments of Alzheimer's. No one to write a note for Guido.

'If you mean in the sense that I'm responsible for it’ Brunetti said, suddenly tired, 'yes.'

Patta was obviously taken aback by Brunetti's response. He drew the newspaper towards him and, forgetting to put on the reading glasses he kept on his desk for effect, read through it again. 'Fasano, I assume?' he asked.

'He seems to be involved’ Brunetti said.

'In what?' Patta asked with real curiosity.

It took Brunetti almost half an hour to explain, starting with his trip to Mestre to speak on Marco Ribetti's behalf—he left Patta to conclude that they were old friends—and finishing with the phone records and a drawing of the sedimentation tanks in Fasano's factory.

'You think Fasano killed him?' Patta asked when Brunetti finished.

Becoming evasive, Brunetti answered, 'I think a case could be made from what I've just told you that he did.'

Patta sighed. 'That's not what I asked you, Brunetti: do you think he killed him?'