Chapter Twenty-Four

Brunetti followed him into the gallery and let his eyes run across the raised cases and display stands. La Capra turned as they entered and said, ‘Please, let me take your coat. You must be frozen, walking around in the rain. On a night like this.’ He shook his head at the very thought.

Brunetti took off his coat, conscious of its sodden weight as he handed it to La Capra. The other man, too, seemed surprised at the bulk of the coat and could think of nothing to do except drape it over the back of a chair, where it lay, water trickling to the floor in thick rivulets.

‘What brings you back to see me, Dottore?’ La Capra asked, but before Brunetti could answer, he said, ‘Please, let me offer you something to drink. A grappa, perhaps? Or a hot rum punch. Please, I can’t let you stand there, chilled, a guest in my house, and not have you take something.’ Without waiting for an answer, he walked over to an intercom that hung on one wall and pushed a button. A few seconds later there was a faint click, and La Capra spoke into the receiver. ‘Would you bring up a bottle of grappa and some hot rum punch?’

He turned towards Brunetti, smiling, the perfect host. ‘It’ll just be a moment. Now, tell me, Dottore, while we wait. What brings you back to visit me so soon?’

‘Your collection, Signor La Capra. I’ve been learning more and more about it. And about you.’

‘Really?’ La Capra asked, his smile remaining in place. ‘I had no idea I was so well known in Venice.’

‘In other places as well,’ Brunetti answered. ‘In London, for example.’

‘In London?’ La Capra showed polite surprise. ‘How very strange. I don’t believe I know anyone in London.’

‘No, but perhaps you’ve acquired pieces there?’

‘Ah, yes, that could be it, I suppose,’ La Capra answered, smile still in place.

‘And in Paris,’ Brunetti added.

Again, La Capra’s surprise was studied, as if he had been waiting for mention of Paris after Brunetti’s reference to London. Before he could say anything, however, the door was pushed open and a young man came in, not the one who had let him in before. He carried a tray with bottles, glasses and a silver Thermos. He set the tray down on a low table and turned to go. Brunetti recognized him, not only from the mug shot sent up from Rome, but from his resemblance to his father.

‘No, stay and have a drink with us, Salvatore,’ La Capra said. Then, to Brunetti, ‘What would you like, Dottore? I see there’s sugar. Would you like me to fix you a punch?’

‘No, thank you. Grappa is fine.’

Jacopo Poli, delicate hand-blown bottle, nothing but the best for Signor La Capra. Brunetti drank it down in one swallow and set his glass back on the tray even before La Capra had finished pouring the boiling water into his own rum. As La Capra busied himself with pouring and stirring, Brunetti looked around the room. Many of the pieces resembled objects he had seen in Brett’s apartment.

‘Another, Dottore?’ La Capra asked.

‘No, thank you,’ Brunetti said, wishing that he could stop the shivering that still tore at him.

La Capra finished mixing his drink, sipped at it, then set it down on the tray. ‘Come, Dottor Brunetti. Let me show you some of my new pieces. They just arrived yesterday, and I admit I’m very excited to have them here.’

La Capra turned and moved towards the left wall of the gallery, but as he moved, Brunetti heard a grinding sound come up from where he stepped. Looking down, Brunetti saw that shards of clay lay in a small circle on that side of the room. One of the fragments had a black line running across it. Red and black, the two dominant colours of the pottery Brett had shown him and talked about.

‘Where is she?’ Brunetti asked, tired and cold.

La Capra stopped with his back to Brunetti and paused a moment before turning to face him. ‘Where is who?’ he asked when he turned around, smiling inquisitively.

‘Dottoressa Lynch,’ Brunetti answered.

La Capra kept his eyes on Brunetti, but Brunetti sensed that something passed, some message, between him and the young man.

‘Dottoressa Lynch?’ La Capra inquired, voice puzzled but still very polite. ‘Do you mean the American scholar? The one who has written about Chinese ceramics?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah, Dottor Brunetti, you have no idea how much I wish she were here. I have two pieces — they’re among those that arrived yesterday — that I’m beginning to have questions about. I’m not sure that they are as old as I thought they were when I . . . ‘ the pause was minimal, but Brunetti was certain it was intentional, ‘when I acquired them. I’d give anything to be able to ask Dottoressa Lynch’s opinion about them.’ He looked at the young man and then quickly back at Brunetti. ‘But whatever makes you think she might be here?’

‘Because there is no other place she could be,’ Brunetti explained.

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Dottore. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m talking about this,’ Brunetti said, stretching out his leg and crushing one of the fragments under his foot.

La Capra winced involuntarily at the sound, but he insisted, ‘I still don’t understand you. If you’re talking about those fragments, it’s easily explained. While the pieces were being unpacked, someone was very careless with one of them.’ Looking down at the fragments, he shook his head in sorrow at his loss and disbelief that anyone could have been so clumsy. ‘I’ve given orders that the person responsible be punished.’

As soon as La Capra finished speaking, Brunetti sensed motion from behind him, but before he could turn to see what it was, La Capra stepped towards him and took him by the arm. ‘But come and see the new pieces.’

Brunetti ripped his arm free and turned, but the young man was already at the door. He opened it, smiled at Brunetti, slipped out of the room, and closed the door behind him. From beyond it, Brunetti heard the unmistakable sound of a key being turned in the lock.

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