By Donna Leon
The homicide of 2 clam fishermen off the island of Pellestrina, south of the Lido at the Venetian lagoon, attracts Commissario Brunetti into the close-knit group of the island, certain jointly by means of a code of loyalty and a suspicion of outsiders precious of the Mafia. while the boss's secretary Signorina Elettra volunteers to go to the island, the place she has family, Brunetti reveals himself torn among his responsibility to resolve the murders, issues for Elettra's security, and his no longer totally easy emotions for her ...
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Extra info for A Sea of Troubles (Commissario Brunetti, Book 10)
And if he couldn't get it done there, then he'd have to go to Shalako over at Zuñi and then he'd be home. " Cecil didn't answer. Leaphorn glanced at him. The boy's eyes were wet. "No," Cecil said. " -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter Ten Wednesday, December 3, 10 AM. JOE LEAPHORN was having trouble concentrating. It seemed to him that a single homicide (as the death of Cata) could be thought of as a unit—as something in which an act of violence contained beginning and end, cause and result.
The Dinee made a harder demand—that man find his place in the harmony of things. There, too, Shorty Bowlegs had failed. Outside the hogan, Leaphorn snapped off the carryall headlights and began a search in gradually widening circles. He worked slowly, conscious that the killer—unlikely as it seemed—might still be near. He looked for tracks—human, horse, or vehicle—using his flashlight sparingly in places where they might be preserved from the wind. He found nothing very conclusive. His own van's tires showed up in several places where the gusts had not erased them, but no other vehicle had apparently come near the hogan recently.
Leaphorn turned off the ignition but not the lights. He was relieved. Bowlegs was not only awake, but sober enough to be standing in the doorway, curious about his visitor. Leaphorn shook out a cigarette, lit it, and waited. Navajo custom and good manners required the wait. The tradition had been born in the old days so that the ghosts which swarmed the reservation and followed travelers would wander impatiently away and not follow the guest into the host's hogan. Today it survived as much out of the respect for privacy of a scattered rural people as from the waning threat of the chindi.