South. And it was in that part of the country that his company’s bid was also often the only one to be made.
There were other rumours about him, but those were only rumours.
After giving them time to consider this information, Signorina Elettra went on, ‘I’ve also found an internal memo in which Papetti requests that Borelli be hired, and at that salary.’ She seemed barely able to contain her delight at having discovered this.
‘If what I think what might be going on is actually going on, then, given what is said about his father-in-law, Signor Papetti is a very brave man,’ Vianello said.
‘Or a very stupid one,’ Brunetti countered.
‘Or both,’ suggested Signorina Elettra.
‘De Rivera’s never been convicted of anything,’ Vianello said in a neutral voice.
‘Neither have many of our politicians and cabinet ministers,’ Signorina Elettra added.
Brunetti was tempted to say that none of the three of them had ever been convicted, either, and what did that prove? Instead, he said, ‘Shall we merely agree that Papetti’s relationship with Signorina Borelli is one he might not want his father-in-law to hear about?’ Vianello nodded. Signorina Elettra smiled.
‘What else did you find out about him?’ Brunetti went on.
‘They live very well, he and his wife and their children.’
‘What’s her name? I’ve forgotten,’ Vianello interrupted.
‘Natasha,’ Signorina Elettra said evenly.
‘Of course,’ the Inspector said. ‘I knew it was something fake.’
As if the Inspector had not spoken, she went on. ‘He has almost two million Euros in various investments, their home is worth at least that, he drives one of their two Mercedes SUVs, and they often go on vacation.’
‘It could be De Rivera’s money,’ Brunetti suggested.
Primly, as if cautioning an over-eager student, Signorina Elettra said, ‘The accounts are in his name only. And they are not in this country.’
‘I stand corrected,’ Brunetti said, then asked, ‘Signorina Borelli? Anything else about her?’
‘Though she was making less than twenty-five thousand Euros a year at Tekknomed, she somehow managed to buy, during the years she worked there, two apartments in Venice and one in Mestre. She lives in the one in Mestre and rents the ones in Venice to tourists.’
‘And Tekknomed chose not to bring charges against her when she left,’ said a reflective Brunetti. ‘She must have known a great deal about their accounts.’ Then, to Signorina Elettra, ‘Her bank accounts?’
‘I’m continuing my researches, Signore,’ she said primly.
‘Is there any evidence that her relationship with Papetti is sexual?’
She allowed herself a cool glance. ‘It’s impossible to find those things in the records, sir.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Brunetti answered. ‘Continue your researches, then.’ To Vianello, he said, ‘I want to talk to Papetti.’
‘You have the endurance to go back to the mainland?’ Vianello asked with a smile.
‘I’d like to talk to him before more time passes.’
‘If you go, you should go alone,’ Vianello said. ‘It’s less threatening.’ He took a step towards Signorina Elettra and asked, ‘Do you think we could have a look at the records of the
Her response was an exercise in modesty. ‘I could try.’
Leaving them to it, Brunetti went downstairs and out to the boat.
27
BRUNETTI MARVELLED AGAIN at how it was possible for people to live like this: driving around in cars, getting stuck behind long columns of other cars, eternal victims of the vagaries of traffic. And the air, and the noise, and the overwhelming ugliness of what he passed. No wonder drivers were prone to violence: how could they not be?
Signorina Elettra had called and made an appointment with Dottor Papetti, explaining that Commissario Brunetti was on the mainland that day and could easily stop by to talk to him about Dottor Nava: luckily, Dottor Papetti had no appointments that afternoon and would be in his office. She explained that Dottor Brunetti knew the way to the slaughterhouse.
Though the driver took Brunetti the same way, he recognized little of what they passed, road-memory or road- skill not being a talent he had acquired. He thought he’d seen one of the villas, but from a distance many of them looked the same. He did, however, recognize the lane that led to the slaughterhouse and then the gates behind which it stood. And, though it seemed less strong now, Brunetti also recognized the smell that swept at him from the back of the building.
This time it was Dottor Papetti who met him at the door. He was a tall man with receding hair that exaggerated the narrowness of his face and head. His eyes were round and dark and belonged on a fatter face. The lips were thin and drawn back in a formulaic smile. The shoulders of his suit were padded in a way that was out of fashion but that still managed to disguise his thinness. Brunetti glanced down and saw that his shoes were handmade; the narrowness of his feet probably made this necessary.
After surprising Brunetti with the strength of his handshake, Papetti suggested they go to his office. Papetti walked along beside him with the free-jointed motion of a heron in water; his head, on an inordinately long neck, shoved forward with every step. Neither man spoke; intermittent noises came from the back of the building.
Opening the door to his office, Papetti stepped back and said, ‘Commissario, please have a seat and tell me how I can help you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here during your visit.’
Brunetti passed in front of him, saying, ‘I’m very glad you could find time to see me now, Dottor Papetti.’ Once both were seated, Brunetti added, in a voice from which he could not banish his gratitude, ‘I’m sure a man with your position has many responsibilities.’ Papetti smiled modestly in response to this: his smile made Brunetti remember a line he had read, he thought, in Kafka, about a man who had seen people laugh, ‘and thought he knew how to do it’.
‘Luckily,’ Papetti began, ‘well, luckily for you, two people cancelled meetings this afternoon, so I found myself with an opening in my schedule.’ He tried another smile. ‘It doesn’t often happen.’
His words at first created only a wild surmise, and then memory brought it to him: it was Patta’s voice the man was using. But was it Patta at his most cordial or his most devious?
‘As my secretary must have told you, I’d like to speak to you about Dottor Nava,’ Brunetti said, as one overburdened bureaucrat to another.
Papetti nodded, and Brunetti continued, ‘Since he worked for you, I thought you might be able to tell me something about him.’ Then, in a display of openness and candour, Brunetti said, ‘I’ve spoken to his widow, but there was very little she could tell me. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but they’ve been legally separated for some months.’ He waited to see what Papetti would say to this.
After a hesitation so brief as barely to have existed, he said, ‘No, I’m afraid I didn’t know that,’ rubbing the fingers of his left hand across the back of the right. ‘I knew him only because of his work at the
‘You knew that he was married, though, didn’t you, Dottore?’ Brunetti asked in his mildest voice.
‘Oh,’ Papetti said with an attempt at an airy wave of the hand, ‘I suppose I must have known, or at least assumed; most men his age are, after all. Or perhaps he mentioned his children. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember.’ Then, after the briefest pause, with what was meant to be a look of concern, ‘I’d like you to extend my condolences to his widow, Commissario.’
‘Of course, of course,’ Brunetti said with a nod that acknowledged Papetti’s feelings.
Brunetti let some time pass and then asked, ‘Could you tell me exactly what Dottor Nava’s duties at the
Papetti’s answer came so fast it seemed he had been prepared for this question. ‘His job was really that of an inspector. He had to see that the animals that come to us were fit for slaughter, and then he had to inspect samples of the meat that came from them.’
