‘Because of the storm?’
‘Yes,’ Brunetti answered, and promised again that he’d be at the hospital when she came.
She started to say something, stopped, and said only, ‘No, no, he couldn’t …’ before hanging up.
He dialled the home number of Ettore Rizzardi, the chief pathologist.
After only three rings, Rizzardi said, with his usual dangerous politeness, ‘Ah, Guido, how good to hear from you. In what way may I be useful?’
‘Ciao, Ettore,’ Brunetti said, knowing he was going to have to ask his friend for a favour but not certain how abrupt to be. ‘How are you?’ he temporized.
‘At home at the end of a long and frustrating day, about to have a drink with my fair wife and then have dinner with some friends. Are you calling because you’d like to join us?’
‘No, Ettore,’ Brunetti said, incapable for once of falling into easy patter with Rizzardi. ‘It’s a friend. He died last night. Drowned. I’m asking you to do it.’
There was a long pause. Brunetti could hear the sound of other voices in the room.‘Where are you?’ Rizzardi asked.
‘On a boat, bringing him in.’ Brunetti looked out of the window and said, ‘In fact, we’re just arriving.’
‘Where was he?’ Rizzardi asked.
‘At the cemetery.’
The doctor drew in a deep breath, then heaved a sigh that came down the line and wrapped itself around Brunetti. ‘I’ll leave now,’ Rizzardi said, all joking fled from his voice. ‘Twenty minutes at the most. I’ll call and tell them you’re coming and to reserve a place for him.’
‘Thanks, Ettore,’ Brunetti said and broke the connection.
He took three deep breaths and dialled his home number. Paola answered on the second ring, asking, ‘How are you, Guido?’
‘Not good. I’m on my way back to the city.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ she broke in before he could say more.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, ‘but Casati’s dead.’
‘Oddio,’ she sighed. ‘What happened?’
‘He was out in the storm last night. We found him an hour ago, trapped under his boat. Drowned.’
‘Where are you?’
‘On a boat. Taking him to the hospital.’
‘But you’re all right.’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Will you come home?’ she asked, then added, ‘After.’
‘Yes,’ he said, not having given it a thought until now. Home. Of course. ‘I don’t know when, but I’ll be home,’ he said and ended the call.
Rizzardi must have called to give the order: three white-jacketed porters waited at the landing with a high-wheeled stretcher for the body. The boat glided up to the dock and slowed to a stop. The porters stepped on to the boat, bent to lift Casati over the side, and placed him on the stretcher. One of them straightened the blanket, making sure the face remained covered.
They nodded to Dantone – or to his uniform – and wheeled the body away. ‘You can go back,’ Dantone told the crew. ‘I’ll stay here until …’ He finished with a shrug, no more clear than was Brunetti about what would happen or how long they would be there.
Brunetti knew the way and set off towards the morgue. Dantone caught up with him and walked at his side. ‘What do you think?’ the Captain asked as they crossed one of the inner courtyards. Heads turned to look at these two filthy men, no doubt to wonder what on earth they could be doing in a hospital.
Brunetti raised a hand. ‘It looks like he drowned.’
‘That’s not an answer,’ Dantone said in a casual voice.
Brunetti stopped, then moved to one of the brick paths that crossed the courtyard at the diagonal. ‘You saw the rope,’ he said to the Captain.
‘Yes.’
Dantone studied Brunetti’s face and looked away from him. ‘I think we need a coffee,’ he said.
While they drank it, pretending not to notice the stares they received from the barman and the other clients, they concentrated on getting caffeine and sugar into their bodies. Brunetti, after a full day under the sun, was beginning to feel feverish and didn’t like the look of the back of his hands, which were the colour of bricks. He couldn’t very well ask Dantone if his face was sunburned, but he felt as though he had a high fever.
After the coffee, he drank two glasses of mineral water, asked for a tramezzino, said he didn’t care what kind, and drank a third glass of water with it.
Dantone insisted on paying, and Brunetti let him.
People who passed them in the corridors tried not to stare, but some of them couldn’t resist. Dantone was a mess – his trousers looked like something he’d picked from the garbage; stained grey and brown, they had pieces of dirt and mud still clinging to them. His boots squished when he walked. Brunetti knew he looked no better, but at least his canvas shoes had dried out somewhat and no longer made any noise.
Brunetti knocked on the door of the morgue. An attendant he did not know opened it; when he saw the two men standing outside, he automatically made to shut the door in their faces, even though a closer look would have revealed that Dantone was wearing some sort of uniform. Brunetti stuck his arm out and stopped the door with his palm.
‘Police,’ he said.
The man, he noticed now, was tall and well-muscled, not the sort of person to be intimidated easily. ‘May I see some identification?’ the man asked. It was not a question, not really.
‘Go and talk to Dottor Rizzardi and tell him Commissario Brunetti and Capitano Dantone are here.’ Then, in a more reasonable voice, taking a step backward, Brunetti added, ‘We’ll wait for him out here in the corridor if you like.’
It must have been the willingness not to cause trouble that convinced the man, for he took his hands from the door and said, ‘Please come in, gentlemen. I’m just doing my job.’
‘I understand that,’ Brunetti said. He looked at the raggedy Dantone, who nodded.
‘Have they brought in the man who died in the laguna?’ Brunetti asked.
‘Yes. Dottor Rizzardi is with him now. It usually takes an hour, sir.’ He pushed up his sleeve and looked at his watch. ‘Not before seven-thirty, I’d say.’
‘Thank you,’ Brunetti replied.
‘Is there anything I can get you?’ the man asked, addressing them both.
Brunetti allowed himself to smile and said, ‘We both could do with new clothing, but that’s not important any longer. We’ll wait for the doctor and see what he has to say, and then we’ll leave.’
The attendant gave Brunetti a strange look, perhaps sensing the exhaustion in the two men. He turned and led them down the corridor. The waiting room was so cool that at first Brunetti thought there was air conditioning, but then he realized it was only because the walls of the building were so thick and because they were on the north side.
Brunetti and Dantone again told the attendant they wanted nothing and sat, leaving a chair empty between them. The attendant went away, closing the door after him.