Friends in High Places by Donna Leon Read Free Book Online

it because the lieutenant wasn’t there that day, and he was the only one who could handle robbery reports.’
     
    ‘And did he go?’
     
    ‘Of course not. Why bother?’
     
    ‘Isn’t that a negative attitude to have, Signorina?’
     
    ‘Of course it’s negative,’ she shot back with far more impudence than she usually directed at him. ‘What sort of attitude do you expect me to have?’ At the heat of her tone, the comfort usually provided by her presence fled the room, leaving Brunetti feeling the same tired sadness he felt whenever he and Paola had an argument. In an attempt to free himself of this sensation, he looked down at the photos and asked, ‘Which piece did the gypsy woman have?’
     
    Signorina Elettra, equally relieved by the change of atmosphere, leaned over the photos and pointed to the bracelet. ‘The owner’s identified it. And she’s got the original receipt which describes it. I doubt that it will make any difference or be much use, but she said she saw three gypsies in Campo San Fantin the afternoon her place was robbed.’
     
    ‘No,’ Brunetti agreed. ‘It won’t be any use.’
     
    ‘What is?’ she asked rhetorically.
     
    In ordinary circumstances, Brunetti would have made a light remark to suggest that the laws were no different for the gypsies than for anyone else, but he didn’t want to endanger the easy mood that had been restored between them. Instead, he asked, ‘How old is the boy?’
     
    ‘His mother says he’s fifteen, but of course there are no documents, no birth certificate and no school records, so he could be any age from fifteen to eighteen. So long as she maintains he’s fifteen, he can’t be prosecuted, and he’s guaranteed a few more years of getting away with anything he wants to.’ Brunetti once again noted the quick flame of her anger and did his best to turn away from it.
     
    ‘Hmm,’ he muttered, closing the file. ‘What does the Vice-Questore want to talk to me about? Do you have any idea?’
     
    ‘Probably something that came out of his meeting with the Questore.’ Her voice revealed nothing.
     
    Brunetti sighed audibly and got to his feet; though the issue of the gypsies remained unresolved between them, his sigh was enough to bring a smile to her lips.
     
    ‘Really, Dottore, I have no idea. All he did was ask me to tell you he’d like to see you.’
     
    ‘Then I’ll go and see what he wants.’ He paused at the door to allow her to go through first, then side by side they went down the stairs and toward Patta’s office and her own small alcove just outside of it.
     
    Her phone was ringing as they entered, and she leaned across her desk to answer it. ‘Vice-Questore Patta’s office,’ she said. ‘Yes, Dottore, he is. I’ll put you through.’ She pressed one of the buttons at the side of the phone and replaced the receiver. Looking up at Brunetti, she pointed at Patta’s door. ‘The Mayor. You’ll have to wait until . . .’ The phone rang again, and she picked it up. From the quick look she gave him, Brunetti guessed that it was a personal call, so he picked up that morning’s edition of Il Gazzettino that lay folded on her desk and went over to the window to have a look at it. He glanced back for an instant, and their eyes met. She smiled, wheeled her chair around, pulled the receiver closer to her mouth, and started to talk. Brunetti stepped out into the corridor.
     
    He had picked up the second section of the paper, which he hadn’t had time to read that morning. The top half of the first page was dedicated to the ongoing examination - it was so half-hearted that one could hardly call it an investigation - of the process by which the contract for the rebuilding of the La Fenice Theatre had been awarded. After years of discussion, accusation, and counter-accusation, even those few people who could still keep the chronology straight had lost all interest in the facts and all hope in the promised rebuilding. Brunetti