CB19 A Question of Belief (2010) by Donna Leon Page A

now.’ He disappeared inside, answering a Higher Call, leaving the three of them in Signorina Elettra’s office.
    Time passed. Signorina Elettra opened her drawer and pulled out that month’s Vogue . She opened it and spread it on her keyboard.
    Brunetti took a step towards her, glanced at the pages and asked, ‘Do you really think those side vents in jackets are a good idea?’
    ‘I haven’t decided yet, Commissario. What does your wife think?’
    ‘Well, she’s always liked a jacket without vents: says it’s more flattering to the figure. That might be because she’s tall. But certainly that one is perfect,’ he said, leaning forward and pointing to a beige jacket at the centre of the left-hand page. ‘I’ll ask her again tonight and see if she has any further ideas on the subject.’
    She turned to the Lieutenant but he, apparently having nostrong opinion to offer about vents, chose that moment to leave her office, failing to close the door behind him.
    ‘A man without a sense of fashion is a man without a soul,’ Signorina Elettra said and turned a page.

12
    There was no sign that Scarpa would return and the light for Patta’s phone was burning red, so Brunetti said, ‘You shouldn’t tempt me.’
    ‘I shouldn’t tempt myself,’ she said, closing the magazine and replacing it in her drawer. ‘But I can’t resist the urge to goad him.’
    ‘Did he really make out the schedule?’
    ‘Of course not,’ she snapped. ‘I did it in about ten minutes this morning. It was on my desk when Scarpa came in, and he asked me what it was. I didn’t say anything, but all he had to do was read the title at the top. So he picked it up and took it into Patta’s office with him, and the next thing I knew, Patta was out here with it in his hand, praising the Lieutenant’s initiative.’ She made an angry noise and slammed her drawer shut.
    ‘It was ever thus,’ Brunetti said.
    ‘That women do the work and men get the credit?’ she asked, still angry.
    ‘I’m afraid so.’
    Brunetti noticed a stain of perspiration on the inside of the collar of her blouse. ‘Patta’s the only one who buys it, you know,’ he said by way of consolation.
    She shrugged, took a deep breath, and then said, voice much calmer, ‘It’s probably better that Patta shouldn’t know how easy it is for me to do the work. So long as he – or his Lieutenant – continues to think he’s doing it all, then I can do what I want.’
    ‘Riverre said he thought things would be much better if you ran the place.’
    ‘Ah, the wisdom of fools,’ she said, but she smiled nevertheless.
    Returning to business, Brunetti asked, ‘What are you going to do about Fontana?’ Translated, the question really meant: Who are you going to ask, and what is that going to cost us in terms of having to pay back favours?
    ‘There’s a clerk at the Tribunale I’ve known for years. I call into his office every so often when I’m over there, and occasionally we go out for a coffee, or he comes along when I buy flowers for the office. He’s asked me to dinner a few times, but I’ve always been busy. Or said I was.’ She looked at Brunetti and smiled. ‘I’ll wait until Tuesday and go over to the flower market. Then maybe I’ll stop on the way back and see if he’s free to go for a coffee.’
    ‘What’s wrong with him?’
    ‘Oh, nothing, not really. He’s honest and hard-working and quite good-looking.’ From her tone, one would think she was listing his handicaps.
    ‘And?’
    ‘And very dull. If I make a joke, I feel like I’m hitting a puppy. He looks at me with his big brown eyes, confused and hoping I won’t be angry with him because he can’t learn to do the trick.’
    ‘But he’s a clerk at the Tribunale?’
    ‘And I am but weak human flesh,’ she said with a longsigh, ‘and could never resist a bargain.’ Before he could ask, she went on, ‘And this is the best bargain around. I have a coffee with him, and the secrets of the