As he was writing, his phone rang and he answered.
‘It’s Bocchese,’ the chief technician said.
‘Yes,’ Brunetti said, still writing.
‘They just emailed me the autopsy reports on that guy who got shot in the Casinò.’
‘Yes?’
‘He had a good deal of alcohol in his blood, and something else they can’t identify. Might be Ecstasy, might be something like it. But something. They’re doing more tests.’
‘And you?’ Brunetti asked. ‘You find anything?’
‘They sent me the bullets, and I had a look. The guys in Mestre had already sent me the photos of the bullet they took out of the mud in that tank in Marghera. If it’s not a match, I’m going to retire and open an antique shop.’
‘Is that what you’re going to do when you retire?’ Brunetti asked.
‘Of course.’
‘You still want me to check on that, what was he, that guy with the trucks in Tessera?’
‘Yes, if you can.’
‘It’ll take a couple of days. I’ll have to nag them to send me the photos of the bullets.’
‘Keep at it, Bocchese. It might be something.’
‘All right, if you say so. Anything else?’
There was the dentist, Brunetti knew, and his still unsolved murder. If the police found a link between his death and the gun, then they would have a link between Terrasini and the dentist, wouldn’t they?
‘No, nothing else,’ Brunetti said and replaced the phone.
Document ID: fbd-518fbd-b1a2-d742-91be-bfa3-1179-8b09e7
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 07.06.2011
Created using: calibre 0.8.4, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
Alaskin
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