Instead of explaining, Brunetti asked, ‘Is it something that might have helped?’
‘That’s difficult to say. So much of what we hear, we don’t hear with our ears.’ Seeing Brunetti’s confusion, he explained. ‘We do a good deal of lip reading, we fill in missing words from the context of the others we do hear. When people wear these hearing aids, they’ve finally accepted the idea that something is wrong with their hearing. So all of their other senses begin to work overtime, trying to fill in the missing signals and messages, and because the only thing that’s been added is the hearing aid, they believe it’s the hearing aid that’s helping them, when the only thing that’s happened, really, is that their other senses are working to their maximum to. make up for the ears that can no longer hear as well.’
‘Was that the case here?’
‘As I told you, I can’t be sure. When I fitted him with the hearing aid, during the second appointment, he insisted that he could hear better. He responded more accurately to my questions, but they all do, no matter whether there’s any real physical improvement. I’m in front of them, asking questions directly to them, looking at them, seen by them. With the tests, where the voices come to them through earphones and there are no visual signals, there’s seldom any improvement, not in cases like his.’
Brunetti considered all this, then asked, ‘Doctor, you said that when he returned for the second examination, there had been even more loss of hearing. Have you any idea what could cause a loss like that, so sudden?’
It was clear from his smile that the doctor had been anticipating this question. He folded his hands in front of him, much in the fashion of a television doctor on a soap opera. ‘It could be age, but that really wouldn’t explain a loss as sudden as his. It could be a sudden infection of the ear, but then there would very likely be pain, and he complained of none, or loss of balance, and he said he had not experienced that. It could have been continued use of diuretics, but he said he was taking none.’
‘You discussed all this with him, Doctor?’
‘Of course I did. He was more concerned about it than I’ve ever seen a patient be, and as my patient, he had a right to know.’
‘Certainly.’
Placated, the doctor continued. ‘Another possibility I mentioned to him was antibiotics. He seemed interested in this possibility, so I explained that the dosage would have to have been very heavy.’
‘Antibiotics?’ Brunetti asked.
‘Yes. One of the side effects, not at all common but possible, is damage to the auditory nerve. But as I said, the dose would have to be massive. I asked him if he was taking any, but he said no. So with all the possibilities excluded, the only reasonable explanation would be his advanced age. As a doctor, I wasn’t satisfied with that, and I still am not.’ He glanced down at his calendar. ‘If I could see him now, enough time has passed so I could at least check the deterioration. If it continued at the same rate as I observed in the second examination, he would be almost entirely deaf by now. Unless, of course, I was mistaken and it was an infection I didn’t notice or that didn’t show up on the tests I conducted.’ He closed the file and asked, ‘Is there any chance that he will return for another examination?’
‘The man is dead,’ Brunetti said flatly.
Nothing registered in the doctor’s eyes. ‘May I ask the cause of death?’ he asked, then hastened to explain: ‘I’d like to know in case there was some sort of infection I overlooked.’
‘He was poisoned.’
‘Poisoned,’ the doctor repeated, then he added, ‘I see, I see.’ He considered that and then asked, strangely diffident, acknowledging that the advantage had passed to Brunetti, ‘And what poison, may I ask?’
‘Cyanide.’
‘Oh.’ He sound disappointed.
‘Is it important, Doctor?’
‘If it had been arsenic, there would have been some hearing loss, of the sort he appeared to have. That is, if it was given over a long period of time. But cyanide. No, I don’t think so.’ He considered this for a moment, opened the file, made a brief note, then drew a heavy horizontal line under what he had just added. ‘Was an autopsy performed? I believe they are obligatory in cases like this.’
‘Yes.’
‘And was any note made of his hearing?’
‘I don’t believe any special search was made.’
‘That’s unfortunate,’ the doctor said, then corrected himself: ‘But it probably wouldn’t have shown anything.’ He closed his eyes, and Brunetti could see him leafing through textbooks in his mind, pausing here and there to read a passage with particular attention. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked across at Brunetti. ‘No, it wouldn’t have been evident.’
Brunetti stood. ‘If you could have your nurse make me a copy of your file, Doctor, I won’t take any more of your time.’
‘Yes, certainly,’ said the doctor, getting to his feet and following Brunetti to the door. In the outer office, he handed the file to his nurse and asked her to make a copy for the commissario, then he turned to one of the patients who had appeared while he was speaking to Brunetti and said, ‘Signora Mosca, you may come in now.’ He nodded to Brunetti and followed the woman into his office, closing the door behind them.
The nurse returned and handed him a copy of the file, still warm from the copying machine. He thanked her and left. In the elevator, which he remembered to take, he opened it and read the final note: ‘Patient dead of cyanide poisoning. Results of suggested treatment unknown.’
* * * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
He was home before eight, only to discover that Paola had taken the children to see a film. She had left a note saying that a woman had called twice during the afternoon but had not left her name. He rooted around in the refrigerator, finding only salami and cheese and a plastic bag of black olives. He pulled them all out and set them on
