The Girl of his Dreams

'And?' Vianello enquired.

'And nothing, I'm afraid’ Brunetti answered and started back down the calle. As Vianello drew abreast of him, Brunetti said, 'She told me she was at the opera with her son and then they went to dinner with her sister and her brother-in-law. So we check that first.'

'And then?'

'If it's true, then we try to find out something about the girl’

After a moment's hesitation, Vianello asked hesitantly, 'The Gypsy?'

'Yes, of course’ Brunetti answered, slowing for a moment and giving him a curious look.

Vianello met his glance, looked away, and when he looked back, asked, 'Did Rizzardi really say that? About gonorrhoea?'

'Yes.'

They came out into Campo Santo Stefano and by mutual consent started towards the Accademia Bridge and the boat that would take them back to the Questura.

As they passed behind the statue, Vianello said, 'Why do I keep thinking it's worse because of her age?'

They walked in front of the church and turned towards the bridge. 'Because it is worse’ Brunetti said.

Pucetti came in to report soon after the other men returned to the Questura. By then, Brunetti had located Signora Fornari's brother-in-law, who confirmed her story, even adding that he had walked her and her son to the 1.07 vaporetto.

Pucetti had done as told and had shown the photos of the dead girl to his colleagues downstairs; he had left copies of the photos at the Carabinieri station at San Zaccaria, asking that they be circulated to see if anyone recognized her. As he spoke, he placed the folder with the remaining photos on his superior's desk.

When the younger man had stopped talking, Brunetti asked, 'But no one recognized her?'

'No one here, not yet. I put two of the photos on the noticeboard’ Pucetti said. 'One of the Carabinieri over at San Zaccaria said he thought she'd been brought in there about a month ago, but he wasn't sure. He said he'd check the records and talk to the men who filed the report.'

'Let's hope he does it,' remarked Vianello, who had greater experience of the Carabinieri and their ways.

'I think he will,' protested Pucetti. 'The fact that it's a child seemed to bother him. Seemed to bother everyone I spoke to, in fact.'

Glances passed between the three men.

'You going to speak to her son?' Vianello asked, reminding Brunetti that the boy had still to be questioned to corroborate his mother's story.

'She wouldn't risk that,' Brunetti said, not certain why he knew this but no less certain about it for that.

'Commissario,' Pucetti began in a tentative voice, 'may I ask something?' At his superior's nod, the young officer continued, 'You sound, at least from what I've heard you say, like you think this Vivarini woman is guilty of something, or trying to hide something.'

Brunetti resisted the urge to pat Pucetti on the shoulder, nor did he smile. 'Signora Vivarini said she didn't notice that anything was missing. A wedding ring, a pocket watch, a pair of cuff links, and another ring.'

Pucetti listened attentively, filing away what Brunetti said.

'She was surprised when the police showed up, I think genuinely.' Pucetti nodded, adding this to his information. 'And as anyone would be expected to be,' Brunetti added, and Pucetti nodded again.

Brunetti toyed with the idea of asking Pucetti to comment on this, to tell them what he thought, but he resisted the temptation and continued. 'At no time during our conversation – and Vianello and I were in her house for at least half an hour – did she think to ask about the child who was pulled out of the water near her home’

'Does that mean you suspect her of that?' Pucetti asked, unable to stop his astonished emphasis of the last word.

'No,' Brunetti said. 'But she didn't ask about the child, even when I told her we found the objects in the possession of someone we were investigating. That's why I'm suspicious.'

The first expression Brunetti saw flash across Pucetti's face was akin to dislike, and he was surprised at how much it offended him to see it there. But the younger man shook his head, glanced at his feet for some time, then came up with a smiling face. 'She should have, shouldn't she?'

Brunetti glanced across at Vianello and was relieved to see that he was smiling, too. The Inspector said to Pucetti, 'Little kid drowns in front of your house, and then the police show up, asking about things that have gone missing. Seems to me that, if the cops are there for half an hour, you'd have enough time to begin to wonder if maybe there's some sort of connection between the two things. After all, it's not as if people drown here every day, is it?'

'But what connection are you looking for?' Pucetti asked.

Brunetti raised his eyebrows, tilting his chin to one side to suggest endless possibilities. 'It could be nothing but coincidence. We've got the advantage that we know the girl had the ring and the watch, so we know that she was in the house. Signora Vivarini doesn't necessarily have to know the girl was there, so she might not see the connection, but it's still strange that she didn't ask about her’

'That's all?' Pucetti asked.

'For the moment, yes,' Brunetti answered.

18

Later in the same day on which Pucetti had distributed the photos of the Gypsy girl, Brunetti found himself at his desk, the file with the remaining photos placed consciously to one side, as if that would help him to put them to the back of his mind. Almost with relief, he heard someone knock on his door and called, 'Avanti.'

Signorina Elettra entered, saying, 'Do you have a moment, Commissario?'

'Of course, of course,' he said, gesturing to a chair.

She closed the door and crossed the room, and sat down, crossing her legs. She carried no papers, but her posture suggested she planned to be there for some time.

'Yes, Signorina?' Brunetti said with an easy smile.

'I've done what you asked, Dottore, and been busy finding out about that priest.

'Which one?' he asked.

'Ah, there's only one: Padre Antonin’ she answered, then, before he could enquire, she added, 'The other one, Leonardo Mutti, is a member of no religious order, at least not one that has the sanction of the Vatican.'

'May I ask how you discovered this?'

'It was easy enough to get his date and place of birth: he's resident here, so all I had to do was check the files at the Comune.' A minimal gesture of her right hand indicated the surpassing ease of this. 'And then all my friend had to do was run his name and date of birth through their files.' She paused here to add, 'The recordkeeping at the Vatican is a marvel: they keep track of everything.'

Brunetti nodded.

'There's no sign of anyone called Leonardo Mutti either as a member of the regular clergy or in any recognized order of monks or priests.'

'Recognized?'

'My friend tells me they've got files on all of the acknowledged orders – that is, the ones they control -as well as on some of the fringe groups – those Lefevre lunatics and people like that – but Mutti's name doesn't appear as a member of any of them, either.'

'Were you able to check those records yourself?' Brunetti asked, more from politeness than from any clear understanding of what this might entail.

'Ah, no,' she said, hand raised to wave off the very thought. 'They're too good for me. I told you, they're a marvel: it's almost impossible to get into their system. Only with the proper authorization.'

'I see,' he said, as though he did. 'And Antonin? What did your friend find out about him?'

'That he was removed from his parish in Africa four years ago and sent to some small town in Abruzzo, but then it looks like some strings got pulled for him, and he ended up here, chaplain in the hospital’ 'What sort of