Free Sea of Troubles by Donna Leon

damned vacuum cleaner scoops, rip up the breeding beds, destroy whole colonies.' Bonsuan paused, pulled himself forward in his chair, then went on. 'They don't think about the future. The clam beds have fed us for centuries and could feed us for ever. They just dig and dig like wild animals, destroying everything.'
    Brunetti remembered his lunch on Pellestrina. 'Vianello won't eat them any more, clams.'
    'Ah, Vianello ’ Bonsuan said dismissively. 'He does it for health reasons.' On Bonsuan's lips, this sounded like an obscenity.
    Not quite sure how he was meant to respond, Brunetti asked, 'Is it safe to eat them, then?'
    Bonsuan shrugged. 'At my age, it's safe to eat anything.' He paused, then went on, 'No, I suppose it isn't safe to eat some of them. The bastards dig them up right in front of Porto Marghera, and God knows what's been pumped or dumped into the water there. I've seen the bastards, anchored there at night, with no lights, scooping them up, not fifty metres from the sign saying that the waters are contaminated and fishing's forbidden.'
    'But who'd eat them?' Brunetti asked, thinking again of the clams he'd eaten on Pellestrina.
    'No one who knew ’ the pilot answered. 'But who does know? Who knows where anything in the market comes from any more? A pile of clams is a pile of clams.' Bonsuan looked up at him then, smiled, and added, 'No passports. No health cards.'
    'But isn't there some control, doesn't someone check them?'
    Bonsuan smiled at such innocence from one no longer young but did not deign to answer.
    'No, tell me, Bonsuan ’ Brunetti insisted. 'Aren't there health inspectors?' Even as he spoke, Brunetti realized how little he knew about this subject. He'd fished in the laguna since he was a boy, but he knew nothing at all about the business of fishing there.
    'There are all sorts of inspectors, Dottore ’ Bonsuan answered. Holding up his right hand, he counted them out on his fingers. 'There are inspectors who are supposed to make random checks of the fish that are already on sale in the market: are they really fresh when they're being sold as fresh? There are the inspectors who are supposed to check whether there are any dangerous substances in the fish: heavy metals or poisons or chemicals - all those things that flood into the laguna from the factories. Then there are the inspectors from the Magistrato alle Acque, whose job it is to see that the fishermen fish only where they're supposed to.' He closed his hand into a fist and added, "These are the ones I know about, but I'm sure, if you looked, you could find all sorts of other inspectors. But that doesn't mean anything gets inspected or, if it does, that whatever they find gets reported.'
    'Why not?' Brunetti asked.
    Bonsuan's smile was compassion itself. Instead of speaking, however, he contented himself with rubbing his thumb across the end joint of his first three fingers.
    'But who pays?' Brunetti asked.
    'Use your imagination, Dottore. Anyone who does something they don't want people to know about or something that would hurt their business if people found out about it: someone with a boat or a fish stall at Rialto, or a business that ships contaminated flounder to Japan or some other country hungry for fish.'
    'Are you sure about this, Bonsuan?'
    'Does that mean am I sure this happens or do I know the names of the people who do it?'
    'Both.'
    Bonsuan gave his superior a long, reflective look before he answered. ‘I suppose, if I thought about it, I could come up with the names of people, friends of mine who work in the laguna, who I think might have given money to see that someone overlooked something. And I suppose, if I asked around a bit, I could come up with the names of the people they gave it to.' He stopped.
    'But?'
    'But two of my nephews are fishermen, have their own boats. And I retire in two years.'
    When Brunetti realized that was all the answer Bonsuan was willing to volunteer, he asked, 'What does that mean?'
    'It means