and the second, quickly dominating and replacing the first, was the smell of coffee, brought to him by Paola. She was dressed to go out, though he could see that her hair was not yet fully dry.
She stood by the bed until he sat up against his pillow, when she handed him the cup and saucer. ‘I thought someone should do something nice for you after the days you’ve had,’ she explained.
‘Thank you.’ Dulled by sleep, that was all he could think of to say. He took a sip, enjoying the mingled bitterness and sweetness. ‘You’ve saved my life.’
‘I’m off,’ she said, unmoved by his compliment, if that was what it was. ‘I have a class at ten, and then the appointments committee meets.’
‘Do you have to go?’ he asked, wondering what the effect of this would be on his lunch.
‘You’re so transparent, Guido,’ she said and laughed.
He studied the liquid in his cup and saw that she had taken the time to froth the milk she added to his coffee.
‘It’s a meeting I want to attend, so you’re on your own for lunch.’
Stunned, he blurted out, ‘You
She glanced at her watch then sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Remember I asked you what you had to do if you knew about something illegal that was going to happen?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s why I have to go.’
He finished the coffee and set the empty cup on the night table. ‘Tell me,’ he said, suddenly fully awake.
‘I have to go so I can vote no about someone who’s being considered for a professorship.’
After trying to figure this out, Brunetti said, ‘I don’t understand how your vote is criminal.’
‘It’s not my vote that’s criminal. It’s the person we’re voting about.’
‘And so?’ he prodded.
‘Though not in this country, at any rate. He’s been caught in France and Germany, stealing books – and maps – from university libraries. But because he’s so well connected politically, they decided not to press charges. But his teaching position in Berlin was cancelled.’
‘And he’s applied here?’
‘He’s teaching already, but only as an assistant, and that contract ends this year. He’s applied for a permanent position, and today the appointments committee meets to decide whether to appoint him or, indeed, to renew his temporary contract.’
‘Teaching literature, I take it?’ he asked.
‘Yes, something called “The Semiotics of Ethics”.’
‘Does the syllabus include theft?’ Brunetti asked.
‘No doubt.’
‘And you’re going to vote against him?’
‘Yes. And I’ve convinced two other members of the committee to vote with me. That should suffice.’
‘You said he’s politically well connected,’ Brunetti said. ‘Aren’t you afraid of that?’
She smiled the shark smile he had come to recognize when she was at her most dangerous. ‘Not at all. My father is far better connected than his patrons are, so he can’t touch me.’
‘And the others who are voting with you?’ he asked, worried that her crusade would put other people at risk.
‘One of them is his father’s lover, who loathes him, and there’s nothing he can do to her.’
‘And the other?’
‘Four of his ancestors were doges, he owns two
Brunetti recognized immediately the man she meant. ‘But you’ve always said he’s an idiot.’
‘I said he’s a lousy teacher. They are not the same thing.’
‘Are you sure he’ll vote with you?’
‘I told him about the theft of books from a library. I don’t think he’s recovered yet.’
‘Is he still stealing books?’ Brunetti inquired.
‘For a while, but I had him stopped.’
‘How?’
‘The library has changed its policy. To enter the stacks, anyone less than a full professor has to have a card. His contract is not permanent, so he has no card and will not be issued one. So if he wants to use a book, he has to ask for it at the main desk, and after he’s used it, the librarians keep him there while they check the condition of the book.’
‘Condition?’
‘In the Munich Library, he sliced out pages.’
‘And this man is teaching at the university? Ethics?’
‘Not for long, dear,’ she said and got to her feet.
Brunetti ambled – there is no better word for it – into the Questura at eleven and went directly to Signorina Elettra’s office. ‘Ah, Commissario,’ she said, ‘I’ve called you twice this morning.’
‘Delayed by official business,’ he said with a smile.
‘I’ve some information for you, sir,’ she said, pushing a few sheets of paper across her desk towards him. Before he could pick them up, however, she added, ‘First you might like to look at this,’ and hit a few keys on her computer.
Leaving the papers, he came around her desk to look at the screen. He saw a head shot of a woman: dark, sultry, with hair that fell below her shoulders and out of the photo. Her expression was one of mild dissatisfaction, the sort of look which, if seen on the face of a woman as pretty as this one, triggers a masculine impulse to remove it. On a less attractive woman, it would appear as the warning sign it was. Brunetti recognized Giulia Borelli instantly: longer haired, younger, but unconfoundably the same.
He had not heard the sigh that escaped him, but he did hear Signorina Elettra observe, ‘She was younger when the photo was taken.’
‘What have you found?’
‘As you said, sir, she was previously employed by a firm called Tekknomed, where she worked in the accounts department until she left to become the assistant to Dottor Papetti. This is the photo used for her company ID. I’ll have a look at him this afternoon.’ Brunetti had no doubt about this.
She touched a few keys, and a document appeared on the screen. From what he could make of what he read, it appeared to contain a series of other Tekknomed internal documents, starting with an email from the head of the accounts department, reporting ‘certain irregularities’ in the accounts kept by Signorina Giulia Borelli. This was followed by an exchange of emails between the head of the department and the president of the company, ending with the president’s order that Signorina Borelli be relieved of her duties immediately and that she be denied access to her computer as of the time of receipt of his email. The last was a letter to her from the personnel department, saying that her contract had been cancelled as of the date of the letter.
‘They took no legal action,’ Signorina Elettra said, ‘so I don’t know what she was up to.’ She hit a few keys, and a chart filled with numbers came on to the screen. ‘As you can see,’ she said, tapping at one of the numbers, ‘their turnover is seventeen million a year.’
‘Lots of opportunity there,’ Brunetti observed, then, ‘Anything else?’
Nodding towards the papers, she said, ‘Her contract of employment with the
‘As a personal assistant?’ he asked. ‘I tremble at what Papetti must be getting.’
She held up a hand. ‘Not until this afternoon, Commissario.’
‘Of course,’ Brunetti answered and then added, deciding in the instant, ‘Vianello and I are going out to see the widow again. Can you have a car at Piazzale Roma in half an hour?’
‘Of course, Signore. Should I call her and tell her?’
‘Yes, I think we should let her know we’re coming this time,’ he said and went to get Vianello.
The woman who opened the door to them might have been the elder sister of the woman they had spoken to before. This was evident in the droop of her mouth and the darkness under her eyes as well as in the elderly
