The Golden Egg by Donna Leon

the two of them together, Maria Pia finished the story. ‘Davide never came back after that.’ She switched off the phone and put it in her pocket.
    â€˜I think some of our clients didn’t approve of his being here, anyway,’ Renata said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Before her employer could speak, she went ahead: ‘Like that Signora Callegaro. With her green suit and her husband’s jacket he’s too cheap to get cleaned more than once a year.’ She pushed herself away from the counter, to stand up straight while making her denunciation. ‘The stuff’s been here all summer, and she comes in now. To sniff around.’ And then, almost spitting, ‘Spy.’
    She turned to Brunetti. ‘She complained about him once.’ She stopped speaking, but a quick glance showed Brunetti that her employer’s face was calm.
    â€˜About what, Signora?’ he asked.
    â€˜She came in here, must have been two years ago, straight from the market, and she had two big bags with her. She came to pick up her cleaning, but when Maria Pia put it on the counter and started to wrap it, she said it was too much to carry and she’d come back for it.’
    â€˜What did you do?’ Brunetti asked, addressing the question to the space between them so that either of them could answer him.
    Maria Pia chose to interrupt here to explain what had happened. ‘I know where she lives; over by Ponte dei Pugni, so I told her that Davide could carry the bags for her, and she could take the cleaning.’
    â€˜And she complained about that?’ Brunetti asked.
    â€˜No, no,’ Renata said and grabbed the story back. ‘She said it would be all right, so Maria Pia went to the back and got Davide and told him to go with her, and they left.’ Though curious about how she could have ‘told’ him anything, Brunetti said nothing.
    â€˜He came back, just the same as ever, so we forgot about it. Then, the next time she came in, she said he had frightened her.’
    â€˜How?’ Brunetti asked.
    As with any old couple, the story passed between them and now Maria Pia continued. ‘She told me he carried the bags back to her house and up the stairs. They live on the fourth floor. She opened the door and pointed to the floor to tell him he could leave them there, but he pushed past her and found the kitchen and put them on the table. And then he took all of the things out of the bags and lined them up on the table. She came in and told him he could leave, that she’d do it herself, but she said he ignored her.’ She looked at Maria Pia, as if to ask whether a deaf person could do anything other than that.
    â€˜When he was done, he folded the bags and put them on the counter, and when she tried to give him some money – this is what she told me, though I doubt she’d give anyone anything: it’s no accident those two are married – he ignored her and left.’
    When it seemed she had nothing more to add, Brunetti said, ‘But what did she complain about?’
    Renata made a huffing noise. ‘She said she was frightened when he went into the house, that she didn’t know what he’d do. I suppose she meant to her.’ She rolled her eyes to suggest the lunacy of this possibility or the woman’s fear.
    Brunetti limited himself to shaking his head in sage acknowledgement of humanity’s weaknesses. Turning to the proprietor, he said, making himself sound puzzled and not really curious, ‘I’m not sure I understand, Signora. If he was deaf, how did you make him understand that he was supposed to carry the bags home for her?’
    Maria Pia shrugged and answered, ‘I picked up the bags and handed them to him, and then I pointed to the woman and made walking movements with my fingers.’ She then did just that, walking her first two fingers halfway across the counter.
    â€˜I’d done it before.