Earthly Remains by Donna Leon

Author:Donna Leon [Leon, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Random House UK
Published: 2017-04-06T00:00:00+00:00

17

The next morning, Brunetti was at the hospital at nine-forty-five. He waited a moment at the main entrance, but then it occurred to him that Federica and her husband, if they arrived on the 13 from Sant’Erasmo, would get off at Fondamente Nove, in which case they’d enter the hospital from the back or even from the entrance near the church. After what her husband had said about her reaction to the news, Brunetti was reluctant to phone Federica, so he sent a text message, saying that he would meet them outside the office of Dottor Rizzardi on the ground floor, in Area D. This spared his having to write ‘Morgue,’ a word he hated and that most people feared.

He had not bought a newspaper, thinking it would be disrespectful if they came upon him reading it, so he stood at the entrance to the corridor that led to Rizzardi’s office and watched the people passing.

Brunetti thought of the rope around Casati’s leg, and that turned his thoughts to the living Casati. He remembered the older man and his delight in pointing out the wading and nesting birds in the laguna, and in the sheer explosion of life that was to be seen at every moment. He remembered the fledgling black-winged stilts Casati had shown him, perfectly camouflaged to blend in with the reeds and stalks of dry grass. Casati knew the names and habits of all the birds they saw and had had endless patience when pointing them out to the city slicker.

He remembered asking Casati, on one of the first days they went rowing, why his bees were so important to him. They had been up at the top of Canale Bussolaro at the time. The last words of his question had been dulled by the wind-borne thunder of a plane taking off from the airport behind them. Casati hadn’t answered until it was quiet enough for them to speak again. ‘They’re the only thing that gives me hope, the bees.’

He’d stopped rowing then, and Brunetti’d pulled up his own oar and turned to look at the older man. ‘Look at that,’ Casati had said, pointing his chin to the left, and when that failed to encompass his meaning, he’d waved his left hand in a wide arc towards the mainland. ‘Everywhere, we’ve built and dug and torn up and done what we wanted with nature. And look at this,’ he’d said, turning to his right and waving out over the laguna, ‘we’ve poisoned this, too.’ His face had grown rough with anger.

Tight-voiced, he’d gone on. ‘They’ve done what they wanted with nature, and our children will pay the price.’ Immediately, Brunetti had thought of the MOSE, the tidal barrier that many people believed could not work, and realized that Casati’s prophecy included Brunetti’s own children. ‘We’ve poisoned it all, killed it all,’ Casati had said, turning back to Brunetti.

Then, in the midst of this catalogue, Casati’s expression had softened, and when he spoke, his voice had grown calm.

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