Beastly Things Read Online Free PDF

another one was much smaller and the last one had the distinctive VW that the manufacturer put on all of their keys. ‘So he owns a car,’ Brunetti said.
    ‘Like about forty million other people,’ Bocchese answered.
    ‘Then I won’t say anything about the house keys or the one for the mailbox,’ Brunetti said with a smile.
    ‘Four houses?’
    ‘My house needs two,’ Brunetti said. ‘Most of the houses in the city do. And two more get me into my office.’
    ‘I know,’ Bocchese said. ‘I’m trying to provoke you.’
    ‘I noticed,’ Brunetti said. ‘What about the smaller one? Am I right to think it’s for a mailbox?’
    ‘Could be,’ Bocchese admitted, in a tone that said it could just as easily not be.
    ‘What else?’
    ‘Small safe, not a serious one; tool chest; garden shed; door to a garden or courtyard; and I suppose I’m overlooking some other possibilities.’
    ‘Anything engraved in the ring?’
    ‘Nothing,’ Bocchese said. ‘Machine made – sold everywhere.’
    ‘Clothes?’
    ‘Most of then made in China – what isn’t these days? – but the shoe is Italian: Fratelli Moretti.’
    ‘Odd combination: clothing made in China and expensive shoes.’
    ‘Someone could have given them to him,’ Bocchese suggested.
    ‘Anyone ever give you a pair of shoes?’
    ‘Does that mean I should stop provoking you?’ the technician asked.
    ‘It would help.’
    ‘All right.’ Then, ‘You want me to guess out loud?’
    ‘That would help, too.’
    ‘I’ve had a look at the things he was wearing, and it doesn’t look like he was in a boat. His clothes are clean: no oil, no tar, none of the sort of thing you’d get on you if you were put in the bottom of a boat. Even if there’s no motor, they’re dirty things.’
    ‘And so?’
    ‘So I think he was killed on land, either on the street or in a house, and he was put in the water after he was stabbed. Whoever did it thought he was dead or was so sure of what they were doing that they knew he had no chance, and the canal was just a way to get rid of him. Maybe to give them more time to get out of the city, or maybe they wanted him to drift away from where they did it.’
    Brunetti nodded. He too had been thinking about this. ‘A man lying in the bottom of a boat would always be visible from above.’
    ‘We’ll check for fibres, to see if he was covered or wrapped in something. But I don’t think that’s the case,’ Bocchese said, waving towards the shirt, simple white cotton, the sort of thing any man would wear.
    ‘No jacket, eh?’ Brunetti asked.
    ‘No. All he was wearing was the shirt and trousers,’ Bocchese said. ‘He must have been wearing a jacket or a sweater. Too cold last night to go out without one.’
    ‘Or he could have been killed in his own house?’ Brunetti suggested. It was his turn to provoke: he wanted Bocchese to agree with him before remarking that most people did not walk around in their houses with their keys in their pockets.
    ‘Yes,’ Bocchese said, sounding very unconvinced.
    ‘But?’
    ‘Rizzardi’s report says he has Madelung. He hasn’t sent the photos yet, but I’ve seen it before. It’s possible someone here has seen him. Or they’d know him at the hospital.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ Brunetti agreed, uncertain that anyone would recognize a photo of the battered face. Bocchese was being cooperative, so he decided not to mention the keys again.
    ‘Anything else?’ Brunetti asked.
    ‘No. If I find anything or think of anything, I’ll let you know, all right?’
    ‘Thanks,’ Brunetti said. Bocchese had mentioned the man’s disease, certain that anyone who saw him would remember him. He wondered if a shoe salesman would. ‘Can you send me an email with the information about the shoe?’

5
    WHEN HE RETURNED to his office, Brunetti found Signorina Elettra still sitting at his computer. She looked up when he came in and smiled. ‘I’m almost finished, Commissario. As I was here, I thought I’d