Quietly in Their Sleep by Donna Leon Page A

and for your cooperation, Signorina. What you’ve told us puts an end to any suspicions we might have had.’ After he said this, Brunetti got to his feet, followed instantly by Vianello. ‘I feel very much better, Signorina,’ Brunetti continued, smiling with every appearance of sincerity. ‘What you’ve told me reassures me because it means that your father was not taken advantage of by these despicable people.’ He smiled again and turned toward the door. He sensed Vianello’s presence close behind him.
     
    Signorina Lerini got up from her chair and came with them to the door. ‘It’s not that any of this matters,’ she said, waving a hand to encompass the room and everything in it, perhaps hoping to dismiss it all with that gesture.
     
    ‘Not when our eternal salvation is at stake, Signorina,’ Vianello said. Brunetti was glad his back was to both of them because he was not sure he had been fast enough to hide both his shock and disgust at Vianello’s remark.
     
    * * * *
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    When they were outside, Brunetti turned to Vianello and asked, ‘And might I be so bold as to ask where that sudden burst of piety came from, Sergeant?’ He shot an impatient glance at Vianello, but the sergeant answered him with a grin. Brunetti insisted, ‘Well?’
     
    ‘I don’t have the patience I used to have, sir. And she’s so far gone I figured she wouldn’t realize what I was doing.’
     
    ‘I suspect you succeeded in that,’ Brunetti said. ‘It was a wonderful performance. “Our eternal salvation is at stake,’“ Brunetti repeated, making no attempt to hide his disgust. ‘I hope she believed you, because you sounded as false as a snake to me.’
     
    ‘Oh, she believed me, sir,’ Vianello said, heading out of the courtyard and back toward the Accademia Bridge.
     
    ‘Why are you so sure?’ Brunetti asked.
     
    ‘Hypocrites never think that other people can be just as false as they are.’
     
    ‘Are you sure that’s what she is?’
     
    ‘Did you see her face when you suggested that her father, her sainted father, might have given some of the loot away?’
     
    Brunetti nodded.
     
    ‘Well?’ Vianello asked.
     
    ‘Well what?’
     
    ‘I think it’s enough to show what all that crap about religion is really all about.’
     
    ‘And what do you think that is, Sergeant?’
     
    ‘That it makes her special, makes her stand out from the crowd. She’s not beautiful, not even pretty, and there’s no indication that she’s smart. So the only thing that can make her stand out from other people, the way we all want to do, I suppose, is to be religious. That way everyone who meets her says, “Oh, what an interesting, intense person.” And she doesn’t have to do anything or learn anything or even work at anything. Or even be interesting. All she does is say things, pious things, and everyone jumps up and down saying how good she is.’
     
    Brunetti wasn’t persuaded, but he kept his opinion to himself. There had certainly been something excessive and out of tune about Signorina Lerini’s piety, but Brunetti didn’t think it was hypocrisy. To Brunetti, who had seen his fair share of it in his work, her talk of religion and God’s will had the ring of simple fanaticism. He had found her lacking the intelligence and self-involvement that were usually present in the real hypocrite.
     
    ‘It sounds like you’re pretty familiar with that sort of religion, Vianello,’ Brunetti said, turning into a bar. After their prolonged exposure to sanctity, he needed a drink. So, apparently, did Vianello, who ordered them two glasses of white wine.
     
    ‘My sister,’ Vianello said in explanation. ‘Except that she grew out of it.’
     
    ‘What happened?’
     
    ‘It started about two years before she got married.’ Vianello sipped at the wine, set his glass down on the bar, and nibbled at a cracker he picked up from a bowl. ‘Luckily, it ended when she got married.’ Another