Free Suffer the Little Children by Donna Leon Page A

like that?’ She turnedand pointed to her husband, and the gesture, as well as the words, struck Brunetti as intentionally dramatic. However sympathetic he might be towards Pedrolli and his wife, Brunetti did not allow himself to forget, as she seemed capable of doing, that they were accused of illegally adopting a child and that her husband was under arrest.
    â€˜Signora, I don’t want to disturb your husband.’ She seemed to soften, so he continued. ‘If I can find a nurse who will stay in the room with him, will you come into the corridor and talk to me?’
    â€˜If you can find a nurse in this place, you’re better than I. I haven’t seen anyone since they brought me in here,’ she said, still angry, but less so now. ‘They’re quite happy just to leave him lying there.’
    Good sense told Brunetti not to respond. He held up his hand in a calming gesture. The uniformed Carabiniere still sat in the corridor though he didn’t so much as glance up when Brunetti left the room. At the end of the corridor, the day shift was just coming on duty, two women of middle years dressed in today’s nursing uniform: jeans and sweaters worn under long white jackets. The taller of the two wore red shoes; the other had white hair.
    He took his warrant card from his wallet and showed it to them. ‘I’m here for Dottor Pedrolli,’ he said.
    â€˜What for?’ the tall one demanded. ‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough?’
    The older one put a restraining hand on hercolleague’s arm, as if she feared she and Brunetti were about to get into a fist-fight. She tugged at her colleague’s arm, not gently, and said, ‘Be careful, Gina,’ then, to Brunetti, ‘What is it you want?’ Her tone, though milder, still seemed to accuse Brunetti of complicity in the blow that had put Dottor Pedrolli in the room halfway down the corridor.
    Unwilling to relent, the one called Gina snorted, but at least she was listening to him, so Brunetti continued. ‘I was here at three this morning to visit someone I thought was the victim of an attack. My men were not involved in it.’
    The older one at least seemed willing to believe him, and that appeared to lessen the tension. ‘Do you know him?’ he asked, directing the question only at her.
    She nodded. ‘I used to work in paediatrics, until about two years ago, and there was no one better. Believe me, he’s the best. Sometimes I’d think he was the only one who really cared about the kids: he was certainly the only one who ever acted like it was important to listen to them and talk to them. He spent most of his time here; he’d come in for almost anything. We all knew he was the one to call if anything happened during the night. He never made you feel you shouldn’t have called him.’
    Brunetti smiled at this description and turned to her colleague. ‘Do you know him, too, nurse?’
    She shook her head. The older woman gaveher arm a squeeze and said, ‘Come on, Gina. You know you do,’ and released her hold.
    Gina spoke to her friend. ‘I never worked with him, Sandra. But, yes,’ she said, and now she turned her attention to Brunetti. ‘I’ve seen him around sometimes, in the bar or in the corridors, but I don’t think we’ve ever spoken – well, not more than to say good morning or something like that.’ At Brunetti’s nod, she continued. ‘But I’ve heard about him: I suppose everyone does, sooner or later. He’s a good man.’
    â€˜And a good doctor,’ Sandra added. Neither Brunetti nor Gina seemed willing to speak, and so she changed the subject. ‘I read the chart. They don’t know what it is. Damasco wants to take more X-rays and do a CAT scan later this morning: that’s what he wrote before he went home.’
    Brunetti knew he would be able to get the medical information later, so