Wilful Behaviour by Donna Leon Page B

almost inaudible, but Brunetti, by leaning forward, managed to hear. ‘I moved in about a year ago. Claudia and I were enrolled in the same faculty, so we took some classes together, and so when her other flatmate decided to leave school, she asked me if I wanted to take over her room.’
    ‘How long had Claudia been here?’
    ‘I don’t know. A year or two before I came.’
    ‘From Milano, is that correct?’
    The girl was still looking at the floor, but she nodded in assent.
    ‘Do you know where Claudia came from?’
    ‘I think from here.’
    At first Brunetti wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. ‘Venice?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes, sir. But she was in school in Rome before she came here.’
    ‘But she was renting her own apartment, not living with her parents?’
    ‘I don’t think she had any parents,’ Lucia said but then, as if aware of how strange that must sound, she looked directly at Brunetti for the first time and added, ‘I mean, I think they’re dead.’
    ‘Both of them?’
    ‘Her father, yes. I know that because she told me.’
    ‘And her mother?’
    Lucia had to consider this. ‘I’m not sure about her mother. I always assumed she was dead, too, but Claudia never said.’
    ‘Did it ever strike you as strange that people as young as her parents probably were could both be dead?’
    Lucia shook her head.
    ‘Did Claudia have many friends?’
    ‘Friends?’
    ‘Classmates, people who came here to study or perhaps to have a meal or just talk.’
    ‘Some kids from our faculty would come over to study sometimes, but there was no one special.’
    ‘Did she have a boyfriend?’
    ‘You mean a
fidanzato
?’ Lucia asked in a tone that made it clear she had not.
    ‘That, or just a boyfriend she went out with occasionally.’
    Again, a negative motion of her head.
    ‘Is there anyone at all you can think of that she was close to?’
    Lucia gave this some thought before she answered, ‘The only person I ever heard her talk about, or talk to on the phone, was a woman she called her grandmother, but who wasn’t.’
    ‘Is this the woman called Hedi?’ Brunetti asked, wondering what Lucia’s response would be to learning that the police already knew about this woman.
    Obviously, Lucia found it not at all strange that the police should know, for she answered, ‘Yes, I think she was German, or Austrian. That’s what they spoke when they talked on the phone.’
    ‘Do you speak German, Lucia?’ he asked, using her name for the first time and hoping that his familiarity would sooth her into answering more easily.
    ‘No, sir. I never knew what they were talking about.’
    ‘Were you curious?’
    She seemed surprised at the question: whatever could be interesting in conversation between her flatmate and an old foreign woman?
    ‘Did you ever see this woman?’
    ‘No. Claudia went to see her, though. Sometimes she’d bring home cookies or a kind of cake with almonds in it. I never asked about it, just assumed she’d brought it from her.’
    ‘Why did you think that, Lucia?’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because no one I know bakes things like that. With cinnamon and nuts.’
    Brunetti nodded.
    ‘Can you remember anything Claudia might ever have said about her?’
    ‘What sort of thing?’
    ‘About how it was that she was her, well, her adoptive grandmother? Or where she lived?’
    ‘I think she must live in the city.’
    ‘Why, Lucia?’
    ‘Because the times she brought back the things to eat, she was never gone for a long time. I mean, not time to get to somewhere else and come back.’ She considered this for a while and then said, ‘It couldn’t even have been the Lido. I mean, it could have been, because you can get to the Lido and back in a short time, but I remember Claudia once said – I forget what we were talking about – that she hadn’t been to the Lido for years.’
    Brunetti started to ask another question, but suddenly Lucia turned to the doctor and asked, ‘Doctor, do I