‘What about the two who are on vacation? Surely they can be called back.’

‘One of them is in Brazil, and no one seems able to find the other one.’

Brunetti started to say that a commissario had to leave word where he could be reached, no matter where he went on vacation, but then he looked at Patta’s face and decided, instead, to ask, ‘What did they tell you about the murder, sir?’

‘It’s a whore. A transvestite. Someone beat his head in and left his body in a field out in Marghera.’ Before Brunetti could object, Patta said, ‘Don’t even ask. The field is in Marghera, but the slaughterhouse that owns it is in Mestre, just by a few metres, so Mestre gets it.’

Brunetti had no desire to waste time on the details of property rights or city boundaries, so he asked, ‘How do they know it’s a prostitute, sir?’

‘I don’t know how they know it’s a prostitute, Brunetti,’ Patta said, his voice going up a few notes. ‘I’m telling you what they told me. A transvestite prostitute, in a dress, with his head and face beaten in.’

‘When was he found, sir?’

It was not Patta’s habit to take notes, so he had not bothered to make any record of the call he had received. The facts hadn’t interested him – one whore more, one whore less – but he was bothered by the fact that it would be his staff doing Mestre’s work. That meant any success they met with would go to Mestre. But then he thought of recent events in his personal life and came to the decision that this might well be the sort of case he should let Mestre take any and all credit for – and publicity.

‘I had a call from their Questore, asking if we could handle it. What are you three doing?’

‘Mariani is on vacation and Rossi’s still going through the papers on the Bortolozzi case,’ Brunetti explained.