Death at La Fenice

they couldn’t go beyond, the point where they would, however reluctantly, tell the truth. Like a city under siege: their outer defenses gave in first, then came the first retreat, the first concession to the approaching enemy. Depending upon the defender, the struggle would be fast or slow, bogged down at this rampart or that; there could be a counterattack, or there could be none. But the first motion was always the same, the almost relieved shrugging off of the lie, which led, in the end, to the final opening of the gates to truth.

‘It wasn’t a vitamin. You know that, don’t you?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘And do you know what it was?’

‘No, I don’t know what it was, not exactly. But I believe it was an antibiotic. I don’t know which one, but I don’t think that’s important.’

‘No, it’s not important.’ She looked up at him with a small smile, its sadness centered in her eyes. ‘Netilmicina. I believe that’s the name it’s sold under here in Italy. The prescription was filled at the Ritter Pharmacy, about three blocks from the entrance to the zoo. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.’

‘What did you tell your husband it was?’

‘Just as I told you, B-twelve.’

‘How many injections did you give him?’

‘Six, at six-day intervals.’

‘How soon was it before he began to notice the effect?’

‘A few weeks. We weren’t speaking much to each other then, but he still saw me as his doctor, so first he asked me about his fatigue. And then he asked me about his hearing.’

‘And what did you tell him?’

‘I reminded him of his age, and then I told him it might be a temporary side effect of the vitamin. That was stupid of me. I have medical books in the house, and he could easily have gone and checked what I told him.’

‘Did he?’

‘No, no, he didn’t. He trusted me. I was his doctor, you see.’

‘Then how did he learn? Or how did he begin to suspect?’

‘He went to see Erich about it. You know that, or you wouldn’t be here now, asking these questions. And after we were here, he began to wear the glasses with the hearing aid, so I knew he must have gone to see another doctor. When I suggested another injection, he refused. He knew by then, of course, but I don’t know how he found out. From the other doctor?’ she asked.

Again he nodded.

She gave him the same sad smile.

‘And then what happened, Signora?’

‘We had come down here in the middle of the treatment. In fact, I gave him the last injection in this room. Even then he might have known but refused to believe what he knew.’ She closed her eyes and rubbed at them with her hands. ‘It becomes very complicated, this idea of when he knew everything.’

‘When did you finally realize that he knew?’

‘It must have been about two weeks ago. In a way, I’m surprised it took him so long, but that was because we were so much in love.’ She looked across at him when she said this. ‘He knew how much I loved him. So he couldn’t believe that I’d do this to him.’ She smiled bitterly. ‘There were times, after I started, when I couldn’t believe it, either, when I remembered how much I loved him.’

‘When did you realize that he knew what the injections were?’

‘I was in here one night, reading. I hadn’t gone to the rehearsal that day, the way I usually did. It was too painful, listening to the music, to the bad chords, the entrances that came too soon or too late, and knowing that I’d done that, done it as surely as if I’d taken the baton from his hands and waved it crazily around in the air.’ She stopped speaking, as though listening to the discordant music of those rehearsals.

‘I was in here, reading, or trying to read, and I heard—’ She looked up at the sound of the word and said, like an actor delivering an aside in a crowded theater, ‘My God, it’s hard to avoid that word, isn’t it?’ and slipped back into her role. ‘He was early, had come back early from the theater. I heard him come down the hall and then open the door. He was still wearing his coat, and he was carrying the score of Traviata. It was one of his favorite operas. He loved to conduct it. He came in and stood there, just over there,’ she said, pointing to a space where no one stood now. ‘He looked at me, and he asked me, “You did this, didn’t you?”‘ She continued looking at the door, waiting for the words to be said again.

‘Did you answer him?’

‘I owed him that much, didn’t I?’ she asked, voice calm and reasonable. ‘Yes, I told him I’d done it.’

‘What did he do?’

‘He left. Not the house, just the room. And then we managed not to see each other again, not until the prima.’

‘Did he threaten you in any way? Say that he was going to go to the police? Punish you?’

She seemed to be honestly puzzled by his question. ‘What good would that have done? If you’ve spoken to the doctor, you know that the damage is permanent. There was nothing that the police could do, there was nothing that anyone could do, to get his hearing back. And there was no way he could punish me.’ She paused long enough to light another cigarette. ‘Except by doing what he did,’ she said.

‘And what is that?’ Brunetti asked.

She chided him openly. ‘If you know as much as you. seem to know, then you must know that as well.’