Free Falling in Love by Donna Leon

buried by covers beside him moved and made a moaning noise. He placed a calming hand on Paola’s hip and said, voice consciously pleasant and friendly, ‘Why are you telling me this, Ettore?’
    ‘They brought her in by ambulance. Some people going home found her about midnight at the bottom of the bridge and called the Carabinieri. They went over and called the ambulance. She was unconscious when they brought her in.’
    That was probably a good thing if she had had to have her arm set and have six stitches, Brunetti thought. ‘And?’
    ‘And Clara was the nurse on the ward where they put her.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘And when she woke up, she told Clara that someone had pushed her down the steps.’
    Brunetti considered possibilities. ‘Had she been drinking?’
    ‘Apparently not. They checked that when she came in.’
    ‘Blood test?’ Brunetti asked.
    ‘No, just the breath, but there was nothing.’ Rizzardi let a moment pass and then added, ‘Clara said the girl sounded very certain about it.’
    ‘Why are you calling me, Ettore?’
    ‘When Clara told the doctor, he said the girl was probably making it up, that people didn’t do that here.’ Before Brunetti could protest, Rizzardi said, ‘So he’s refused to call the police. He doesn’t want any trouble with them.’
    ‘What does he expect the girl to do?’ Brunetti asked.
    ‘He said she can call them when she gets home.’
    ‘When will that be?’
    ‘I have no idea, Guido,’ Rizzardi said, suddenly exasperated. ‘That’s not why I called you.’
    ‘All right, Ettore,’ Brunetti said, shoving back the covers. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ He could all but hear Rizzardi calming down, so he asked, ‘Have you spoken to her?’
    ‘No, but I’ve known Clara since I started working here, and she’s got more sense than most of my colleagues. She said she believes the girl, and that’s enough for me.’
    Brunetti made a noise as he got out of the bed.
    ‘Is that the weight of the world I hear on your shoulders, Guido?’ Rizzardi asked in his normal voice.
    ‘Let me have a shower and some coffee. I’ll be there in an hour.’
    ‘She’ll be here.’

9
    Brunetti left for the hospital very shortly after, having decided not to make coffee at home but to stop on the way. It was not yet seven-thirty when he reached Ballarin, but to his relief he saw that there was already someone inside. He tapped on the door; when Antonella came to see who was there, he asked if he could have a coffee and a brioche. She stuck her head out and looked both ways, then pulled the door fully open to let him in. She closed and locked the door after him.
    When she caught his glance, she said, ‘We can’t serve before opening time. It’s against the law.’
    Brunetti was tempted to put on his mock-severe voice and say he was the law around there, but it was too early for jokes – and he had had no coffee. Instead, he thanked her and said he would stop by another time and pay, so no law would be broken.
    ‘There’s probably some other law we don’t know about,’ she said as she went behind the counter, but then her voice was drowned out by the coffee grinder. She handed him a brioche, still hot, and turned to get his coffee. It took some time and two packets of sugar, but the combination worked its magical transformation, and he left the pasticceria a man reborn.
    At the hospital, he realized he had no idea where to find the injured woman, nor even whom to ask about: he had been too dulled by sleep to ask her name. He shied away from the idea of going to see Rizzardi in the place where he worked and went to the Emergency Room, where it was likely the girl had first been taken. There, he was told that, because the other wards were already overcrowded, she had been sent to cardiologia . Her paperwork had been sent along with her, and four people were queuing behind him, so Brunetti decided that he had enough information to be able to find her: after all, how many