Suffer the Little Children

them really got sick and they had to schedule the same examination, and the computer showed they'd already had it performed?' he asked.

'Then I imagine they'd do what any one of us would do: insist they'd never had the exam and blame it on the computer. And since the person they'd be dealing with would be some paper-pusher at ULSS, they'd probably believe it-'

'And then the appointment would be scheduled?'

'Probably,' Vianello said easily. 'Besides, the possibility that anyone would get suspicious about this is virtually non-existent.'

'And if they did, it's state money that's being wasted, anyway, isn't it?'

'I'm afraid so,' Vianello said. 'It would just be another case of civil servants who make a mistake.'

Neither man spoke for some time, and then Brunetti asked, 'But you still haven't found a pharmacist with the money.'

'It's got to be somewhere,' Vianello insisted. 'We can start taking a closer look tomorrow.'

Tt sounds as if nothing will persuade you away from believing this’ Brunetti said with a certain measure of asperity.

'Perhaps,' Vianello answered quickly, almost defensively. 'But the idea is too good for someone not to make use of it. ULSS is a sitting duck.'

'And if you're wrong?' Brunetti asked with some force.

Then I'm wrong. But ‘I’LL still have learned a lot about new ways to find things with the computer’ Vianello said, and good will slipped back into the room.

14

Brunetti went back downstairs with Vianello, then continued to Signorina Elettra's office, where he found her busy on the phone. She beckoned him into the room, signalled that he was not to leave, and continued what appeared to be a series of monosyllabic responses to a flood of verbosity from the other end of the line. 'Yes. No. Of course. Yes. Yes’ she said, each response interrupted by a long pause, during some of which she busied herself with jotting things down. 'I understand’ she said, 'Signor Brunini is very eager to see the doctor and, yes, he and his companion would come as private patients.' Again, there ensued a silence that seemed even longer now that Brunetti had heard the name and wondered what she was up to.

‘Yes, I realize, of course. Yes, I'll wait’ She held the phone away and rubbed at her ear, then drew the receiver back at the sound of a female voice. 'Oh, really? So soon? Ah, Signora, you're wonderful. Signor Bixmirti will be very pleased. Yes, I have it. Three-thirty on Friday. I’l1 call him right now. And thank you.'

Signorina Elettra put the phone down and glanced at Brunetti, then wrote a few words on fiie paper in front of her.

'Dare I ask?' Brunetti said.

'The Villa Colonna Clinic. In Verona,' she said. 'Where they went’

Though the transmission was somewhat sjemaphoric, Brunetti had no difficulty understanding it.

'And that led you to.. ‘ Brunetti began, then realized that he was lacking an adequate verb. 'To speculate?' he concluded.

'Yes, you could say that,' she answered, obviously pleased by his choice of word. 'About all manner of things. But chiefly about the coincidence that a number of people who were examined at this clinic were put in contact with the person or persons who had a baby to sell' - one could only admire her directness.

'You putting your money on the clinic?'

The arc of her eyebrow rose no more than a millimetre, but the motion spoke of endless possibility.

Brunetti returned to even more uncertain territory. 'Signor Brunini?' he enquired.

'Ah, yes,' she said. 'Signor Brunini.' Brunetti waited until finally she continued. 'I thought it might be interesting to present the clinic with another couple desperate to have a child and rich enough to pay anything to have one’

'Signor Brunini?' he asked, recalling that crime films always advised impostors to select a name close enough to their own to allow them to respond to it automatically.

'Even so’

'And Signora Brunini?' he asked. 'Did you have someone in mind for the role?'

'I thought someone familiar with the investigation should accompany you so that there would be two people able to form an opinion of the place.'

'Go along with me?' Brunetti asked, though the emphasis was hardly necessary.

'Friday at truree-thirty,' she said. 'There's a Eurocity to Munich that leaves at 1:29. That means it will get to Verona at three’

'And would this person who goes along with me be Signora Brunini?'

She hesitated a moment, considering this question, though Brunetti knew her well enough to believe she had already answered it. ‘I thought perhaps the desire for a child would appear more urgent for Signor Brunini if she were his, er, his companion. Younger, and very much in want of a child.'

Brunetti grasped at the first straw that floated past him. 'What about medical records? Wouldn't a doctor at this clinic want to examine them before he saw ... them?'

'Oh, those,' she said, as if already bored with there details. 'Dottor Rizzardi has asked a friend at the Ospedale to prepare them.'

'For Signor Brunini and his, er, his companion?'

'Exactly. They should be ready, and Dottor Rizzardi's friend has only to fax them to Verona.'

Did he have a choice? The question was absurd.

Little happened over the day and a half before Brunetti had to take up the role of Signor Brunini. The couples who had been arrested in Verona and Brescia were sent home, and the police request that they be kept under house arrest was rejected by magistrates in both cities. The children, two articles stated, had been given into the care of the social services. Dottor Pedrolli, too, was told by the Venetian magistrate assigned the case that he could return to his home and to his work, but following the advice of Dottor Damasco, he chose to remain in the hospital. The Carabinieri had decided to bring against him only charges having to do with the false adoption of the baby: mention was no longer made of resisting arrest or injuring a police officer in performance of his duties. Neither he nor his wife made any attempt to contact Brunetti, who was careful to request a written report from the Carabinieri, though there was precious little to report.

Thus, urged by the restless desire to force something, anything, to happen, Brunetti arrived at the station on Friday afternoon on time to catch the 1:29 Eurocity to Munich, scheduled to stop at Verona at 2:54.

'You know, we can stop this if you'd like’ Brunetti said as the train pulled into the Verona station.

Signorina Elettra looked up from her copy of II Manifesto, smiled, and responded, 'But men I'd have to go back to the office, wouldn't I, Commissario?' Her smile was warm, but it did not linger as she shut the paper and got to her feet. She set the newspaper on the seat, took her coat and put it over her arm.

She went into the corridor, and Brunetti picked up the paper, calling after her. 'You've forgotten this.'

‘No, better leave it there. I doubt that patients at this clinic read anything other than Il Giornale. I'd hardly want to trigger alarms by walking in with a Communist newspaper.'

'One does tend to forget that they eat babies’ Brunetti said conversationally as they made their way to the end of the carriage.

'Communists?' she asked, turning to him at the top of the steps.

'So my Aunt Anna believed’ Brunetti said, then added, 'Probably still does.' He followed her down the steps, and together they walked to the stairway that led to the lower level and the station exit.

A few taxis stood in line; Brunetti opened the back door of the first and waited as Signorina Elettra got in. He closed it and walked around to the other side. He gave the driver, who appeared to be either Indian or Pakistani, the name and address of the Villa Colonna, and the man nodded as though they were familiar.