‘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 macello at Preganziol while the Commissario is away?’
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 macello, so I was not familiar with his private life.’
‘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 macello were?’
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.’
‘Of course, of course,’ Brunetti said, then with the eagerness of a novice, he went on, ‘Your position must afford you some knowledge of the way all slaughterhouses work, Dottore. In general, that is. The animals arrive, are unloaded…’ Brunetti paused with another friendly smile and said, ‘We didn’t get much of an idea.’ Trying not to look embarrassed, he said, ‘My Inspector, he…’ He stopped and shrugged and then went on, ‘So please understand that I’m speaking out of ignorance here, Dottore. I’m merely trying to imagine how it might be; I’m sure you know far better than I.’ Trying his best to look uncertain, Brunetti asked, ‘Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the animals are unloaded or led in or however it is they’re brought there. And then, presumably, Dottor Nava would examine them to see that they are healthy, and then they would be taken into the slaughterhouse and killed.’ Dull people are repetitive, Brunetti knew, hoping that Papetti also believed this.
Papetti seemed to relax at this chance to remain far away from the particular. ‘That’s more or less what happens. Yes.’
‘Are there problems that you might encounter, or that Dottor Nava might have?’
Papetti pursed his lips in a gesture of thought and then said, ‘Well, as far as the slaughterhouse is concerned, if there should be a difference between our records of the number of animals brought in and what the farmers claim: that might be one. Or if there are delays in processing that force the farmers to keep their animals here longer than planned, with the resulting costs: that’s another.’ He uncrossed and recrossed his legs and said, ‘As for Dottor Nava, his concern would be any violation of EU regulations.’
‘Could you give me an example, Signore?’ Brunetti asked.
‘If the animals suffer unnecessarily or if the proper standards of cleanliness aren’t maintained.’
‘Ah, of course. Now it makes sense to me. Thank you, Dottore.’ Brunetti was pleased at how he must look, finally understanding all of this.