‘To better understand why he was killed.’
Dorandi’s answer was instant. ‘I thought that was made very clear by the note you found.’
Brunetti raised a hand as if in concession to this idea. ‘I think it’s important that we learn as much as we can about him, just the same.’
‘There was a note, wasn’t there?’ Dorandi demanded.
‘Where did you hear that, Signor Dorandi?’
‘It was in the papers, in two of them.’
Brunetti nodded. ‘Yes, there was a note.’
‘Did it say what the papers say it did?’
Brunetti, who had seen the papers, nodded.
‘But that’s absurd.’ Dorandi said, voice raised, as if it were Brunetti who had written the words. ‘There’s no child pornography here. We don’t cater for pederasts. The whole thing’s ridiculous.’
‘Have you any idea why someone might have written that, Signore?’
‘Probably because of that madwoman,’ Dorandi said, making no attempt to disguise his disgust and rage.
‘Which madwoman is that?’ Brunetti asked.
Dorandi paused a long time before he answered this, studying Brunetti’s face carefully, looking for the trick in the question. Finally he said, ‘That woman who threw the stone. She began all this. If she hadn’t started with her insane accusations – all lies, all lies – then nothing would have happened.’
‘Are they lies, Signor Dorandi?’
‘How dare you ask that?’ Dorandi bent towards Brunetti, voice raised. ‘Of course they’re lies. We have nothing to do here with child pornography or with pederasts.’
‘That was the note, Signor Dorandi.’
‘What difference does it make?’
‘They are two different accusations, Signore. I’m trying to understand why the person who wrote the note might have believed that the agency was involved in pederasty and child pornography.’
‘And I’ve told you why,’ Dorandi said on a note of rising exasperation. ‘Because of that woman. She went to all the papers, libelling me, libelling the agency, saying we arranged sex-tours…’
‘But nothing about pederasty or child pornography?’ Brunetti interrupted.
‘What’s the difference to a madwoman? Everything’s the same to them, anything that has to do with sex.’
‘Then do the tours the agency arranged have something to do with sex?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Dorandi shouted. Then, hearing how loud his voice was, he closed his eyes for a moment, unfolded and carefully refolded his hands, and said in an entirely normal voice, ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘I must have got it wrong.’ Brunetti shrugged, then asked, ‘But why would this madwoman, as you call her, say those things? Why would anyone, indeed, say those things?’
‘Misunderstanding.’ Dorandi’s smile was back. ‘You know how it is with people: they see what they want to see, make things mean what they want them to mean.’
‘Specifically?’ Brunetti asked with a pleasant expression.
‘Specifically I mean what this woman has done. She sees our posters for tours to exotic places – Thailand, Cuba, Sri Lanka – then she reads some hysterical article in some feminist magazine that claims there is child prostitution in those places and that travel agencies arrange tours there, sex-tours, and she puts the two things together in some crazy way, and comes here at night and destroys my window.’
‘Doesn’t that seem an excessive response? Without proof, I mean.’ Brunetti’s voice was all sweet reason.
Dorandi answered with more than a touch of sarcasm, ‘That’s why they’re called crazy people: because they do crazy things. Of course it’s an excessive reaction. And utterly without cause.’
Brunetti allowed a long pause to spread out between them, and then said, ‘In the Gazzettino you were quoted as saying that just as many women go to Bangkok as do men. That is, that most of the men who buy tickets to Bangkok take women along with them.’
Dorandi looked down at his joined hands, but didn’t answer. Brunetti reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out the sheets of paper Signorina Elettra had given him. ‘Would you be willing to be a bit more precise about that, Signor Dorandi?’ Brunetti asked, looking down at the papers.
‘About what?’
‘The number of men who took women with them when they went to Bangkok. Say in the last year.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Brunetti didn’t waste a smile on him. ‘Signor Dorandi, I’ll remind you that this is a murder investigation, which means that we have the right to request, or demand, if we are forced to do so, certain information from the people involved.’
‘What do you mean, “involved”?’ Dorandi spluttered.
‘That should be clear to you,’ Brunetti answered in a level voice. ‘This is a travel agency, which sells a certain number of tickets and arranges tours to what you call “exotic” locations. An accusation has been made that these are for the purposes of sex-tourism, which I hardly need remind you is now illegal in this country. A man, the owner of this agency, has been murdered and a note left suggesting that these tours might be the motive for that crime. You yourself seem to believe that there is a connection. So it would appear that the agency is involved and so are you as its manager.’ Brunetti paused for a moment, before asking, ‘Have I made myself clear?’
‘Yes.’ Dorandi’s voice was sullen.
‘Then would you mind telling me how accurate your statement – or, if I might speak more plainly – how true your statement was that most of the men who went to Bangkok took women along with them?’
‘Of course it’s true,’ Dorandi insisted, shifting to the left side of his chair, one hand still on the desk in front of him.
‘Not according to your ticket sales, Signor Dorandi.’
‘My what?’
‘The sales of plane tickets made by your agency, all of which, I’m sure you must know, are kept in a centralized computer system.’ Brunetti saw this register and went on, ‘Most of the tickets to Bangkok that your agency sold, during the last six months at least, were to men travelling alone.’
Almost before he could think, Dorandi blurted out, ‘Their wives joined them later. They were travelling on business, the men, and their wives joined them.’
‘Did they buy tickets from your agency?’
‘How do I know?’
Brunetti placed the papers, face up, on the desk in front of him, leaving them in plain sight, open to Dorandi if he chose to try to read them. He drew a deep breath. ‘Signor Dorandi, shall we start again with this? I’ll repeat my question and this time I’d like you to consider your answer before you give it to me.’ He paused a long time, then asked, ‘Did the men who bought tickets to Bangkok through your agency travel with women or not?’
Dorandi took a long time to answer, but finally said ‘No’ and nothing more.
‘And these tours you arrange with “tolerant hotel management” and “convenient location” – Brunetti’s voice was absolutely neutral, not a trace of emotion audible in it – ‘are they for the purpose of sex?’
‘I don’t know what they do when they get there,’ Dorandi insisted. ‘It’s not my business.’ He pulled his head down into the too-wide neck of his jacket, rather in the manner of a turtle under attack.
‘Do you know anything about the sort of hotels where these particular tourists go?’ Before Dorandi could answer, Brunetti put his elbows on the desk, cupped his chin in his palm and looked down at the list.
‘They have tolerant managements,’ Dorandi said eventually.
‘Does that mean they allow prostitutes to work there, perhaps even provide them?’
Dorandi shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’
‘Girls? Not women, girls?’
Dorandi glared across the desk at him. ‘I don’t know anything about the hotels except the prices. What my clients do there isn’t my business.’
‘Girls?’ Brunetti repeated.
Dorandi waved a hand angrily in the air. ‘I told you, it’s none of my business.’
‘But it’s our business now, Signor Dorandi, so I would prefer an answer.’
Dorandi looked at the wall again, but found no convenient solution there. ‘Yes.’ he said.
‘Is that the reason you choose them?’
‘I choose them because they offer me the best price. If the men who go there decide to take prostitutes back to their rooms in those hotels, that’s their business.’ He tried but could not restrain his anger. ‘I sell travel packages. I don’t preach morality. I’ve checked every word of those ads with my lawyer, and there’s nothing at all even remotely illegal in them. I’m not breaking any law.’
‘I’m sure of that,’ Brunetti couldn’t stop himself from saying. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be here any more. He stood. ‘I’m afraid we’ve taken up rather a lot of your time, Signor Dorandi. I’ll leave you now, but we might like to speak to you again.’
Dorandi didn’t bother to answer. Nor did he get to his feet when Brunetti and Vianello left the room.