‘Even if he isn’t working any more?’

‘Probably more important, now that he isn’t and now that he can’t do the things he used to do.’

‘God, it’s complicated, isn’t it?’ Brunetti said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. ‘Do any of them know what she’s doing with it?’

Vianello shook his head. ‘Nothing they’re certain of. But if she says it’s for a good cause, then she’s probably giving it to someone.’ This time Vianello slapped the surface of the table, making no attempt to disguise his anger. ‘The trouble is,’ the Inspector continued, ‘I agree with her. Well, partly. She does have the right to do whatever she wants to do with her money. When the business was new, she worked like a dog for years, and she never got a lira for it. Even after things got better, she stayed on in the office and ran it. And never got paid for it.’

Brunetti nodded.

‘So she’s entitled to as much money as she wants. Both legally and. . and morally, if that’s the right word.’

Brunetti suspected it was.

‘But. .’ the Inspector began but failed to finish the sentence.

Brunetti suggested a way to do so. ‘But her family has the right to know what she’s doing with it?’

‘I think so, yes. I don’t like saying it, but I think that’s the case. And it’s not because it’s their money. It’s not. It’s hers. But surely the fact that she refuses to tell them means she suspects she shouldn’t be doing whatever it is she’s doing with it.’

‘What are your cousins going to do?’ Brunetti asked.

Vianello looked at the table. ‘Follow her,’ he said.

‘I beg your pardon.’

Vianello looked up and, entirely without humour said, ‘I think they’ve watched too much television or something. They’ve spoken to the manager of the bank. He’s known the family for thirty years. He’s done all their banking for them.’