CB19 A Question of Belief (2010) Read Online Free

people are doing – and because I am always very polite and very thorough – people tend to answer my questions.’
    ‘Even if they really aren’t about things that should concern you professionally?’ Brunetti asked, beginning to suspect why Brusca might have come to see his friend the policeman.
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘Is that what you have there?’ Brunetti asked, nodding to the papers. Like Brusca, Brunetti was a man who preferred not to waste time.
    Brusca pulled them from their plastic folder and handed them to Brunetti. ‘Take a look,’ he said.
    The first paper bore the letterhead of the Tribunale di Venezia. The left side of the sheet held four vertical columns, headed: ‘Case Number, Date, Judge, Courtroom Number’. After a thick vertical line appeared a single box headed ‘Result’. Brunetti shifted the paper to one side and found three more like it. The quality of the reproductions varied: one was so blurred as to be barely legible. A date was stamped on the bottom right of each page with beside it a neat signature, and beside that the stamp of the Ministry of Justice. The dates differed, but the signature was the same. Twice, the seal of the Ministry of Justice was carelessly stamped and ran off the side of the page. Brunetti had spent what seemed a lifetime looking at such documents. How many had he stamped himself before consigning them to their next reader?
    These were not the sort of court documents he was accustomed to reading in the course of his own investigations, not the usual transcripts of testimony or of thearguments presented at the conclusion of a trial, nor yet were they copies of the verdicts finally reached. These were for internal use only and, if he was reading them correctly, dealt with preliminary sessions. He found no pattern.
    He glanced at Brusca, whose face was impassive. Brunetti returned his attention to the papers. He looked for correspondences and saw that many of the sessions listed had been adjourned or postponed without a hearing, and then he noticed that most of these cases had been heard by the same judge. He recognized the name and had no good opinion of her, though, if pressed, Brunetti could not have explained why that was. Things heard, things overheard, a certain tone of voice used when her name came up in conversation, and something, years ago, that one of his informers had said. No, not said, but implied, and not about her but about someone in her family. The name of the court functionary who had signed the papers meant nothing to him.
    He looked across at his friend and said, ‘My guess is that these postponements might work to the advantage of one of the two parties in each case and that Judge Coltellini is somehow involved in the delays.’ Brusca gave an encouraging nod and pointed with his chin to the papers, as if to prompt a promising student. ‘If that means I am to see something more here, then I’d guess that the person who signed the papers is also involved.’
    ‘Araldo Fontana,’ Brusca said. ‘At the Tribunale. He started working there in 1975, was promoted to chief usher ten years later, and has been there ever since. His scheduled date of retirement is the tenth of April 2014.’
    ‘What colour is his underwear?’ asked a straight-faced Brunetti.
    ‘Very funny, very funny, Guido.’
    ‘All right. Forget the underwear and tell me about him.’
    ‘As chief usher, he sees that papers are processed and delivered on time.’
    ‘And “processed and delivered” means . . . ?’
    Brusca sat back and crossed his legs, then raised one hand in a gesture indicative of motion. ‘There’s a central deposit where all documents regarding cases are kept. When they’re needed during a hearing or trial, the ushers see that they’re delivered to the right courtroom so the judge can consult them if necessary. Then, when the hearing is over, the ushers take them back to the central deposit and refile them. When the next hearing is held, they’re