A new Brunetti mystery is always a treat. As an American I can only marvel at the leisurely pace of life in general and criminal investigation in particular, in modern Venice, as described in Leon's novels. Now that 60 hour work weeks have become the new normal, and everyone is connected and on call 24/7 here, Guido Brunetti's life seems idyllic: going out for coffee with colleagues, home for lunch with the family, conveyed by police launch through the canals of Venice as he pursues his investigations, getting home every evening in time to watch the sun set and share a bottle of wine with his wife.
In this latest installment, Brunetti puts his official investigations on hold to pursue his interest in the accidental death of a forty-year-old man he has seen around his neighborhood for years without ever knowing his name. Everyone assumed that David Cavanelli was a deaf mute and simple-minded. He lived with his mother, and one morning she found him dead in his bed. It appeared he had swallowed some of his mother's sleeping pills, mistaking the brightly colored capsules for candy. But oddly, neither the police nor the social services can find any record whatsoever of Davide Cavanelli's existence in any of their multitudinous systems. His mother isn't co-operating with their efforts. And nobody in the tightly-knit neighborhood is willing to break the conspiracy of silence surrounding Davide --- or his mother.
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