Moro's number when his attention was caught by loud male voices coming
up the stairway.
'Where's my son?' a loud voice demanded. A softer voice replied, but
the other voice insisted, 'Where is he?' Saying nothing, Brunetti
broke the connection and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
As he approached the stairs, the voices grew even louder. I want to
know where he is,' the original voice shouted, refusing to be placated
by whatever it was that was said to him.
When Brunetti started down the flight of stairs, he saw at the bottom a
man of about his own age and size and recognized him instantly, having
both seen his photo in the papers and been presented to him at official
functions. Moro's face was blade-thin, his cheekbones high and tilted
at a Slavic angle. His eyes and complexion were dark and in sharp
contrast to his hair, which was white and thick. He i?
stood face to face with a younger man dressed in the same dark blue
uniform worn by the boys in the courtyard.
'Dottor Moro/ Brunetti said, continuing down the steps in their
direction.
The doctor turned and looked up at Brunetti but gave no sign of
recognition. His mouth was open and he appeared to breathe only with
difficulty. Brunetti recognized the effect of shock and mounting anger
at the opposition the young man was giving him.
'I'm Brunetti, sir. Police/ he said. When Moro made no response,
Brunetti turned to the other man and said, 'Where's the boy?'
At this reinforcement of the demand, the young man gave in. 'In the
bathroom. Upstairs/ he said, but grudgingly, as if neither man had the
right to ask anything of him.
'Where?' Brunetti asked.
Vianello called from the staircase above them, waving back towards
where he had come from, 'He's up here, sir.'
Brunetti glanced at Moro, whose attention was now directed at Vianello.
He stood rooted to the spot, his mouth still roundly open and his
breathing still audible to Brunetti.
He stepped forward and took the. doctor's arm in his. Saying nothing,
Brunetti led him up the stairs after the retreating back of the slowly
moving Vianello. At the third floor, Vianello paused to check that
they were following, then moved down a corridor lined with many doors.
At the end he turned right and continued down an identical one.
Vianello opened a door with a round glass porthole. He caught
Brunetti's glance and gave a small nod, at the sight of which Moro's
arm tightened under Brunetti's hand, though his steps did not falter.
The doctor passed in front of Vianello as though the Inspector were
invisible. From the doorway, Brunetti saw only his back as he walked
toward the far end of the bathroom, where something lay on the floor.
The cut him down, sir,' Vianello said, putting a hand on his superior's
arm. 'I know we're not supposed to touch anything, but I couldn't
stand the idea that anyone who came to identify him would see him like
that.'
Brunetti clasped Vianello's arm and had time to say only 'Good', when a
low animal noise came from the back of the room. Moro half lay, half
knelt beside the body, cradling it in his arms. The noise came from
him, beyond speech and beyond meaning. As they watched, Moro pulled
the dead boy closer to him, gently moving the lolling head until it
rested in the hollow between his own neck and shoulder. The noise
turned to words, but neither Vianello nor Brunetti could understand
what the man said.
They approached him together. Brunetti saw a man not far from himself
in age and appearance, cradling in his arms the body of his only son, a
boy about the same age as Brunetti's own. Terror closed his eyes, and
when he opened them he saw Vianello, kneeling behind the doctor, his
arm across his shoulders, close to but not touching the dead boy. 'Let
him be, Dottore,' Vianello said softly, increasing his pressure on the
doctor's back. 'Let him be,' he repeated and moved slowly to support
the boy's weight from the other side. Moro seemed not to understand,
but then the combination of command and sympathy in Vianello's voice
penetrated his numbness, and, aided by Vianello, he lowered the upper
half of his son's body to the floor and knelt beside him, staring down
at his distended face.
Vianello leaned over the body, lifted the edge of the military cape,
and pulled it over the face. It wasn't until then that Brunetti bent
down and put a supporting hand under Moro's arm and helped him rise
unsteadily to his feet.
Vianello moved to the other side of the man, and together they left the
bathroom and headed down the long corridor and then down the stairs and
out into the courtyard. When they emerged, groups of uniformed boys
still stood about. All
of them glanced in the direction of the three men who emerged from the
building and then as quickly glanced away.
Moro dragged his feet like a man in chains, capable of only the
