Through a Glass, Darkly

After a few minutes, Repeta was back, saying, 'He's out in the shop. Be here in a minute.'

While they waited, Brunetti asked about the disposal of other substances from the vetrerie, asking if Repeta also disposed of the acids. Those, he learned, were handled by an even more specialized firm, one that transferred the liquid to tanker trucks for delivery to facilities in Marghera that saw to the disposal of toxic substances.

Before Brunetti could learn any more, he heard a voice from behind him.

'You wanted me, Luca?'

Say 'plumber', and this was the man who would appear on the inner eye. Not particularly tall, but thick from shoulder to hip—thick of nose as well; slightly balding, rough skinned, with enormous hands and forearms, Biaggi stood at the door. He smiled at Repeta, as though amiability were his usual condition.

'Come in, Pietro’ Repeta said. 'This man wants to know what you did out at Fasano's place last time you went.'

Biaggi took a few steps into the room and nodded to Brunetti. He tilted his chin and studied the ceiling, as if searching there for a copy of the invoice. He pursed his lips in a surprisingly feminine gesture, brought his chin back down and said, 'The third tank had a leak, and his manager needed us to solder it. His boss was on vacation or something. Anyway, he couldn't be reached, so the manager called us. Good thing he did, too, because they could have had a real problem if they'd waited a couple more days.'

'Why is that?' Brunetti inquired.

'Water was already leaking all over the floor: grey stuff, so it was coining from the sediment, or at least from the new water coming into the tank that still had sediment in it.'

'What did you do?' Repeta asked.

'Usual stuff: turn off the water of the molatura. We sent the guys out for a coffee and told them to come back in an hour. No use having them standing around doing nothing or trying to help.'

'Who was with you?' Repeta asked.

'Dondini.'

'What did you have to do?' Brunetti interrupted to ask. Before Biaggi could begin to explain, Repeta told him to come and sit down, which he did, spreading himself into a chair and seeming even larger once he was seated.

'First thing I saw was that it was going to take a long time, more than an hour.' He looked at Brunetti, smiled, and said, 'Before you start thinking this is the way plumbers think, Signore, let me tell you it was true. Those tanks are too close to the ground, so you can't get under them, and they're fixed to the walls, so you can't get behind them to have a look. Only way to work on them is to drain them and see what's going on.'

'Even with all the sludge in them?' Brunetti asked, pleased with himself for sounding in command of the subject.

Biaggi smiled. 'We had to drain it first. Luckily, it had only been a month or so since we were out there, so the sediment wasn't very high. Most of what was in it was water, so we turned it off in the grinding shop; then we bailed it into the next tank until we got down about forty centimetres. That's where the leak was.'

'In the soldering on the angles?' Repeta asked.

'No,' Biaggi answered. 'It looks like they used to drain the tank out of the back, straight through the wall. Or else it was used for something else before they put it there to filter the water from the molatura. I figure that's why they had to change the position of the pipes.' Biaggi dismissed the subject. 'None of my business, is it?' he asked Brunetti, who shook his head in agreement.

'I don't know who did the job, but it was a mess,' Biaggi continued. 'Someone had cut a round plate out of tin or something, then they soldered a kind of flange thing on to the back, so the circle could be swung back and forth over the opening of the pipe to open and close it. But they didn't know what they were doing when they put the pipe in: they didn't use enough solder, and so it had started to leak.'

'And what did you do?' Brunetti asked.

'I closed it off.'

'How?' Brunetti asked.

'I pried off the circle thing and covered over the hole in the pipe. I used plastic and a good adhesive, so it'll last as long as that tank will’ Biaggi said proudly.

'And the other tanks? Did they have the same problem?'

Biaggi shrugged. 'I got called to fix a leak, not to check their whole system.'

'Just where was this hole?' Brunetti asked.

Biaggi repeated his gesture in attempting to recall the tanks, then said, 'About forty centimetres down, maybe a little less.'

'What sort of liquid would there be at that depth, Signor Biaggi?' Brunetti asked.

'Well, if they're at full production, and a lot of water is coming in,' he began, then added for clarification, 'that would be if the water was running for three or more people in the molatura—in that case, with full flow, it would be water with a lot of sediment in it.'

'And if there were less work going on?' Brunetti asked.

Again, Biaggi made that very feminine pursing of his lips. "There'd still be a fair amount of sediment in it.'

'Where did the old pipe go?' Brunetti asked.

Again, Biaggi played the scene back, then said, 'The angle was bad from where I had to stand, so I couldn't see into it, how far it went or where it went. Into the back wall. That's all I'm sure of. But it's sealed now. There's no chance it will leak again.

'Could you say how long ago the original work was done?' Brunetti asked.

'You mean the soldering?'

'Yes.'

'No, not exactly. Ten years ago. Maybe more, but that's just a guess. No way to tell, really.'

Biaggi glanced at his wristwatch, leading Brunetti to say. 'Just one more question, Signore. Would it be possible for someone to find that pipe?'

The question confused the man and he asked, 'You mean the opening in the tank?'

'Yes.'

'But why would anyone want to do that?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Brunetti answered easily. 'But if they wanted to, could they find it there in the tank?'

Biaggi looked at his employer, who nodded. He looked at his watch again, rubbed his hands together, making a dry, sandpapery noise, and finally said, 'If he knew it was there, I suppose he could find it with his hand, by hunting around. The water's off at both ends at night, so I guess if he opened the drain at the end and let the water run out, he could have a look, at least down to the level of the sediment. Then, when he wanted to fill it up again, all he'd have to do is close the drain again and go into the other room and turn the water on and wait until the tanks were full again. Easy.'

With a smile he attempted to make reassuring, Brunetti said, I'm sorry, but I've just thought of another last question, but I promise it really will be the last.'

Biaggi nodded, and Brunetti said, 'Did they give you any idea of how long the tank had been leaking?'

'A month or so, I'd say’ came Biaggi's quick response.

'You seem very sure of that’ Brunetti observed.

'I am. It looked like someone tried to fix it. That is, it looks like someone tried to solder the disc into place over the hole in the pipe, but there was no way that was going to work. When I asked about it, the manager said the guys had been complaining about the wet floor for a couple of weeks.' He gave Brunetti an interrogative smile, as if to ask if he'd answered enough questions, and Brunetti smiled in return, got to his feet, and held out his hand.

'You've been very helpful, Signor Biaggi. It's always nice to talk to a man who knows his job.'

When Biaggi, made faintly uncomfortable by praise, had left, Repeta asked, making no attempt to disguise the curiosity Brunetti's questions had provoked in him, 'Are you a man who knows your job, Commissario?'

'I'm beginning to think so’ Brunetti said, thanked him, and went back to the Questura.