Through a Glass Darkly Read Free Page B

waiting car, a taxi pulled up and a short, squat man with white hair got out. He leaned in to hand money to the driver and turned to look up at the building. And saw them.
    He gave a savage shove to the door of the taxi, slamming it shut behind him. ‘You stupidbastard!’ he shouted, starting across the pavement. The taxi drove off. The old man stopped, one hand raised, waving it at them. ‘You stupid bastard,’ he shouted again and started up the steps towards them. Brunetti and the others stopped halfway down, frozen with astonishment.
    The man’s face was distorted with anger and livid with years of drink. So short he would not reach Brunetti’s shoulder, he was almost twice as broad, with a thick torso that was moving downward as muscle turned to paunch. ‘You and your animals and your trees and your nature, nature, nature. Go out there and cause trouble and get arrested and get your name in the paper. Stupid bastard. You never had any sense. Now those bastards at the
Gazzettino
are calling
me
.’
    Brunetti placed himself between the old man and Ribetti. ‘I’m afraid there’s been some misunderstanding, Signore. Signor Ribetti has not been arrested. Quite the contrary: he’s here to help the police with their inquiries.’ Brunetti had no idea why he lied. There would be no investigation, so there was no way Ribetti could help with it, but the old man needed to be stopped, and usually people of his age were most easily stopped by mention of the forces of order.
    â€˜And who the hell do you think you are?’ the old man demanded, tilting his head back to stare up at Brunetti. Without waiting for an answer, he tried to step around Brunetti, whomoved to the left and then to the right to stand in his way.
    The old man stood still and raised a finger to the height of his own shoulder and poked Brunetti in the chest, saying, ‘Look, you bastard, get out of my way. I don’t want any interference from strangers.’ He took a half-step to the left, but Brunetti blocked him again. ‘I said get out of my way!’ the old man shouted, this time putting his hand on Brunetti’s arm. It could not be said that the old man grabbed Brunetti’s arm, nor that he pulled at it, but it was certainly not the casual contact of a man trying to get his friend’s attention to make a point.
    Vianello came down two steps and stood to the old man’s left. ‘I think you’d better take your hand off the Commissario, Signore.’
    The old man, however, had been carried beyond hearing by his fury. He tore his hand from Brunetti’s arm and pointed at Vianello. ‘And don’t you think you can get in my way, either, you bastard.’ His face had grown puce, and Brunetti wondered if he would have some sort of seizure: he had seldom seen a man so easily catapult himself into rage. Sweat stood on the old man’s forehead, and Brunetti saw his hands tremble. Spittle had collected at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes, small and dark, appeared to have grown even smaller.
    From behind him, Brunetti heard Ribetti say, ‘Please, Commissario; he won’t cause any trouble.’
    Vianello could not hide his surprise, and Brunetti’s was apparent to the old man. ‘That’s right, Signor Commissario whoever you are: I won’t cause any trouble. He’s the one who causes trouble. Stupid bastard.’ He turned his glance from Brunetti to Ribetti, who now stood to Brunetti’s left. ‘He knows me because he married that fool, my daughter. Went right where he knew the money was and married her. And then filled her with his shitty ideas.’ The old man made as if to spit at Ribetti but changed his mind. ‘And gets himself arrested,’ he added, looking at Brunetti to make it clear that he did not believe what he had been told.
    Ribetti caught Brunetti’s attention by placing his hand on his arm. ‘Thank you,