Донна Леон

Transient Desires


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      Transient Desires

      Also by Donna Leon

      Death at La Fenice

      Death in a Strange Country

      Dressed for Death

      Death and Judgment

      Acqua Alta

      Quietly in Their Sleep

      A Noble Radiance

      Fatal Remedies

      Friends in High Places

      A Sea of Troubles

      Willful Behavior

      Uniform Justice

      Doctored Evidence

      Blood from a Stone

      Through a Glass, Darkly

      Suffer the Little Children

      The Girl of His Dreams

      About Face

      A Question of Belief

      Drawing Conclusions

      Handel’s Bestiary

      Beastly Things

      Venetian Curiosities

      The Jewels of Paradise

      The Golden Egg

      My Venice and Other Essays

      By its Cover

      Gondola

      Falling in Love

      The Waters of Eternal Youth

      Earthly Remains

      The Temptation of Forgiveness

      Unto Us a Son Is Given

      Trace Elements

      Donna Leon

      Transient Desires

      Atlantic Monthly Press

      New York

      Copyright © 2021 by Donna Leon and Diogenes Verlag

      Endpaper map by © Martin Lubikowski, ML Design, London

      Jacket photograph © Umdash9/Alamy Stock Photo

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Scanning, uploading, and electronic distribution of this book or the facilitation of such without the permission of the publisher is prohibited.Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. Any member of educational institutions wishing to photocopy part or all of the work for classroom use, or anthology, should send inquiries to Grove Atlantic, 154 West 14th Street, New York, NY 10011 or [email protected].

      Originally published in Great Britain in 2021 by William Heinemann.

      Published simultaneously in Canada

      Printed in the United States of America

      First Grove Atlantic hardcover edition: March 2021

      Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available for this title.

      ISBN 978-0-8021-5817-8

      eISBN 978-0-8021-5819-2

      Atlantic Monthly Press

      an imprint of Grove Atlantic

      154 West 14th Street

      New York, NY 10011

      Distributed by Publishers Group West

       groveatlantic.com

      For Romilly McAlpine

      “The depths have covered them:

      they sank to the bottom as a stone.”

      Handel Israel in Egypt

      Part the Second: 18

      1

      Brunetti slept late. At about nine, he turned his head towards the right and opened one eye, saw the time, and closed his eye again. He did not move for some time, and when he next opened his eye, he saw that it was half past nine. He reached out his left arm in the hope that he would find Paola beside him, but he found only the indentation of her former presence, long since gone cold.

      He levered himself on to his side and then his back, rested for a moment after achieving this, and opened his eyes. He studied the ceiling, glanced at the far corner on the right and saw the mark above the window where water had leaked in some months before, creating a brown patch that looked like an octopus, a rather small one. Like an octopus, this stain changed colour with the light, sometimes changing shape, as well, although there were always only seven legs.

      He had promised Paola he would get up on the ladder and paint it over, but he was always in a hurry, or it was night-time and he didn’t want to get on the ladder, or he didn’t have his shoes on and didn’t want to risk climbing the ladder wearing only socks. This morning the stain annoyed him, and he decided he would ask the man who did odd jobs for them to come and paint it over and have done with it.

      Or his son could tear himself loose from his computer or from talking to his girlfriend on the phone and get the ladder and paint it and help his parents for a change. Detecting the distinct note of resentment and self-pity in his thoughts, Brunetti pushed them aside and considered some of the events of last night’s dinner, among which were three glasses of grappa that were most likely the cause of his current condition.

      As was their custom once a year, last evening he and some companions from liceo had met for dinner in a restaurant at the beginning of Riva del Vin, where the obliging owner always put them in the same corner by the window on to the Canal Grande.

      As the years passed, their number had shrunk from more than thirty to just ten, reduced for the usual reasons: geography, employment, and sickness. Some had tired of the inconveniences of the city and had moved away; others had taken better jobs in other parts of Italy or Europe, and two had died.

      This year, as well as Brunetti, the other three original organizers of the dinner had attended. The first was Luca Ippodrino, who had turned his father’s trattoria into a world-famous restaur­ant by following three relatively simple rules: he served the same food his mother had served for thirty years to the men who unloaded the boats at Rialto; it was now served on porcelain plates and in far smaller and delicately decorated portions; the prices had been inflated almost beyond bearing. The waiting list for a table – especially during the Biennale and the Film Festival – started filling up months in advance.

      The second, Franca Righi, Brunetti’s first girlfriend, had gone on to study physics in Rome and now taught at the same university where she had studied. It was she who had towed Brunetti through their biology and physics classes and now delighted in telling him each time one of the laws they had studied turned out to be false and had to be replaced.

      The last was a newly divorced Matteo Lunghi, a gynaecologist, whose wife had left him for a much younger man, and who had had to be encouraged through the dinner by his friends.

      The remaining six were successful – or content – to varying degrees or at least behaved that way when in the company of people who had known them most of their lives. Much of that ease of communication, Brunetti believed, came of their having a common store of cultural and historical references as well as their generation’s unspoken and unconsidered ethical standards.

      Before allowing himself to consider what those might