Through a Glass, Darkly

'That's impossible,' Brunetti protested. 'Don't they have to give them receipts?'

"The story I was told,' Pelusso went on with sweet patience, 'was that they were the only ones working in the office, and they'd ask for cash from the people who came in alone or without an Italian agent. The story I heard said that one of them would ask for the payment, and then send the applicant to the other woman, who had a register, and signing this register was supposed to be their receipt. Seems they'd been doing it for years.'

'But who'd believe that? Signing a register?' demanded Brunetti.

'People in a strange country, they don't speak much Italian, and it's a city office, and there're two women saying the same thing. Seems to me lots of people would sign it. And it seems they did.'

Brunetti asked, 'So what happened?'

'Someone complained to the Questore about it, and he had them in his office the same day. With the register. They're both on administrative leave now, but they retire at the end of the month.'

'And the people who signed the register? What happens to them? Did they get their permits?'

'I don't know’ Pelusso said. 'You want me to find out?'

For a moment, Brunetti was tempted, but good sense intervened and he answered, 'No. Thanks. It's enough to know it happened.'

'The dawn of justice in our fair city,' Pelusso said in a portentous voice.

Brunetti made a rude noise and replaced the phone. He dialled Signorina Elettra's number and, when she answered, asked, 'Your friend Giorgio still work at Telecom?'

'Yes, he does,' she said but then added, 'Of course, it's no longer necessary for me to consult him.'

'Don't tease me today, please, Signorina’ Brunetti said, heard how that sounded, and quickly added, 'by suggesting that you've suddenly taken to using the official channels to obtain information.'

If she heard the gear shift in his voice, she chose to ignore it and said, 'No, Commissario. It's that I've found a more direct way to access their information.'

So much for using official channels, Brunetti thought. The gypsy children were not the only recidivists in the city. 'You've got Tassini's home number. I'd like you to get numbers for Fasano and De Caclass="underline" home, office, telefonini. And I'd like you to check for calls between any two of them’ he said, wondering why he had not thought to do this before. Though never saying so directly, Fasano had certainly made it sound as if he knew little more about Tassini than that he was working off the books and had a handicapped daughter, nothing more than what everyone at the factory would know.

'Of course’ she said.

'How long will it take?' he asked, hoping he might have the information the following morning.

'Oh, I'll bring it up in fifteen minutes or so, Commissario,' she answered.

'Much faster than Giorgio’ Brunetti said in open admiration.

'Yes, that's true. I'm afraid his heart wasn't in it’ she said and was gone.

It took closer to twenty minutes, but when she came in she was smiling. 'De Cal and Fasano seem to be quite good friends’ she began, putting some papers on his desk. 'But I won't spoil it for you, Commissario. I'll leave you to read through the lists’ she said, adding more paper. He looked at the numbers and times on the first sheet, and when he glanced up, she had gone.

Indeed, De Cal and Fasano had spoken to one another with some frequency during the last three months: there were at least twelve calls, most of them made by Fasano. He looked at Tassini's number: during the years of his employment by De Cal, he had called the factory seven times. No call had been made to him either from De Cal's office or from his home.

With Fasano, however, the case was rather different. Tassini had been working there only two months when he died, yet the records from his home phone showed that he had called Fasano's telefonino six times, and the factory twice. Fasano, for his part, had called Tassini at home once ten days before he died and once on the day before. In addition, at 11:34 of the night Tassini died, Fasano's telefonino showed a call to the De Cal factory.

Brunetti pulled out the Yellow Pages and looked under Idraulici then dialled the number for Adil-San. When the young woman with the pleasant smile answered, Brunetti give his name and asked if he could speak to her father.

After a bit of music and a few clicks, Brunetti heard Repeta say, 'Good afternoon, Commissario. How can I help you now?'

'One quick question, Signor Repeta,' Brunetti said, seeing no reason to waste time in a formal exchange of pleasantries. 'When I was over at your office, I didn't ask enough about the procedure when you empty the tanks.'

'What is it you'd like to know, Commissario?'

'When you do it, how do you empty the tanks?'

'I'm not sure I understand your question,' Repeta said.

'Do you empty them completely?' Brunetti explained: 'So that you can see inside them, that is.'

'I'd have to look at their bill’ Repeta said, then quickly explained: 'I don't know what system we use with each of the clients, but if I look at the bill, the costs are detailed, so I'll know exactly what we did.' He paused a moment and then asked, 'Would you like me to call you back?'

'No, that's all right’ Brunetti said. 'Now that I've got you on the line, I'd rather wait.'

'All right. It should take only a few minutes.'

Brunetti heard a clack as Repeta set the receiver down, then footsteps, then a rough noise that could have been a door or drawer opening. And then silence. Brunetti gazed out of his window at the sky, studying the clouds and thinking about the weather. He tried to force his mind into a straight line, thinking of nothing but the clear sky and the coming and going of clouds.

The footsteps returned, and then Repeta said, 'From what I see on the invoice, all we do is pick up the barrels of sludge. That means they clean out the tanks themselves.'

'Is this normal?' Brunetti asked.

'Do you mean do the other vetrerie do it this way?'

'Yes.'

'Some do. Some don't. I'd guess about two-thirds of them opt to have us clean out the tanks.'

'Another last question’ Brunetti said, and before Repeta could agree to answer it, he asked, 'Do you service De Cal's factory?'

'That old bastard?' Repeta asked without humour.

'Yes.'

'We did until about three years ago.'

'What happened?'

'He didn't pay for two pick-ups, and then when I called him, he said I'd have to wait to be paid.'

'And so?'

'And so we stopped going there.'

'Did you try to get your money?' Brunetti asked.

'And do what, bring charges against him and spend ten years in the courts?' Repeta asked, still without any sign of humour.

'Do you know who makes the pick-ups now?' Brunetti asked.

Repeta hesitated, but then said 'No', and hung up.

26

The expected summons came at eleven the next morning, by which time Brunetti had read the article—which did not carry Pelusso's byline—three times. An organization in the city administration, it stated, alerted to a case of illegal dumping at a glass factory on Murano, was about to open an investigation. There followed a catalogue of the various inquiries already being conducted by the Magistrate alle Acque, thus leaving no doubt in any reader's mind—though without saying so— that this was the office involved. Because the cases cited all involved the dumping of toxic materials, the reader again was led to believe that the same was true this time. The final paragraph stated that the police, already conducting an investigation into a suspicious death, were also involved.