‘They did it this morning.’ Ambrogiani said with no prelude.
‘And?’ Brunetti asked, knowing what he meant.
‘It was an overdose of heroin, enough to kill someone twice her size.’
‘Who did the autopsy?’
‘Doctor Franceso Urbani. One of ours.’
‘Where?’
‘Here at the hospital in Vicenza.
‘Were any of the Americans present?’
‘They sent one of their doctors. Sent him down from Germany. A colonel, this doctor.’
‘Did he assist or only observe?’
‘He merely observed the autopsy.’
‘Who’s Urbani?’
‘Our pathologist.’
‘Reliable?’
‘Very.’
Aware of the potential ambiguity of the last question, Brunetti rephrased it. ‘Believable?’
‘Yes.’
‘So that means it was really an overdose?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it does.’
‘What else did he find?’
‘Urbani?’
‘Yes.’
‘There were no signs of violence in the apartment. There were no sign of prior drug use, but there was a bruise on her upper right arm and one on her left wrist. It was suggested to Doctor Urbani that these bruises were consistent with a fall.’
‘Who made that suggestion?’
The length of the pause before Ambrogiani answered was probably meant as a reproach to Brunetti’s even having to ask. ‘The American doctor. The colonel.’
‘And what was Doctor Urbani’s opinion?’
‘That the marks are not inconsistent with a fall.’
‘Any other needle marks?’
‘No, none.’
‘So she overdosed the first time she did it?’
‘Strange coincidence, isn’t it?’ Ambrogiani asked.
‘Did you know her?’
‘No, I didn’t. But one of my men works with an American policeman whose son was her patient. He said she was very good with the little boy. He broke his arm last year and got bad treatment at the beginning. Doctors and nurses rushed, too busy to tell him what they were doing; you know the story, so he was afraid of doctors, afraid they’d hurt him again. She was very kind with him, spent a lot of time. It seems she always made sure to schedule a double appointment for the boy, so she wouldn’t have to rush him.’
‘That doesn’t mean she didn’t use drugs, Maggiore,’ Brunetti said, trying to make it sound like he believed it.
‘No, it doesn’t, does it?’ Ambrogiani agreed.
‘What else did the report say?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen a copy of it.’
‘Then how do you know what you’ve told me?’
‘I called Urbani.’
‘Why?’
‘Dottor Brunetti. An American soldier was murdered in Venice. Less than a week later, his commanding officer dies under mysterious circumstances. I’d be a fool if I didn’t suspect some sort of connection between the two events.’
‘When will you have a copy of the autopsy report?’
‘Probably this afternoon. Would you like me to call you?’
‘Yes. I’d appreciate that, Maggiore.’
