Suffer the Little Children (32 page)

‘Did you realize this at the time?'

‘What time?'

‘The time your friend's mother received the information.'

‘No, not then. Only later.'

‘And when was that?'

‘Later. When I started to think about things.'

‘But you had no proof? Did your friend's mother say something to you?'

‘No, nothing like that. I had no proof. Besides, if I might add, without offence, Commissario: proof is more your line of work than mine. I was sure, and I suppose that's the same thing.'

‘Ah.'

‘You don't agree, Commissario?'

‘It's not my place here to agree or disagree, Dottore: only to ask you to explain.'

‘I see.'

‘You were telling me why you went to speak to Dottor Franchi about your son, Dottore.'

‘Yes, I was, wasn't I? It's hard to remember what I've been talking about, I suppose. There are so many things to say and to think about.'

‘I'm here to listen.'

‘My son, then. There's no sense now in trying
to pretend he was my son – my natural son, that is. His mother was an Albanian woman I met in Cosenza.'

‘Met, Dottore?'

‘Was introduced to, if you will. Someone I know – I'd rather not say who he was – knew that she was pregnant and didn't want to keep the baby, so he introduced me to her and I agreed to her conditions.'

‘Financial conditions, Dottore?'

‘Of course. That was the only thing she cared about. I don't like having to admit this, Commissario, but all she wanted was the money. I don't think she cared about the baby.'

‘That's unfortunate.'

‘Well, she got the money. Ten thousand Euros, and may it do her some good.'

‘That's a generous attitude, Dottore.'

‘What wrong did she do, really? Got born in the wrong country. Came to a richer one. Found herself pregnant and didn't want the baby and found someone who did? In a way, perhaps she deserves credit for having taken the money and not come back later to ask me for more.'

‘I'm still not sure yet that I see why you went to talk to Dottor Franchi about this.'

‘Please, Commissario. There's no need for you to pretend to be stupid. Ever since I came into this room, everything's been about why I went to see Dottor Franchi. In fact, the biggest event in my life, and no doubt in my future, is going to be why I went to see Dottor Franchi.'

‘You say, Dottore, that it's all about why you
went to see him. Would you tell me, then, why you did?'

‘Because of something you told me.'

‘I'm afraid I don't understand.'

‘You told me that he had my medical records.'

‘No, Dottore, I asked you if the information about any prescription you had made up in the pharmacy would be in your medical records.'

‘But you mentioned the inappropriate use of information.'

‘Yes, I did. But that was because, at the time, as I said before, we had reason to believe that Dottor Franchi might be involved in blackmail.'

‘That's not worth considering.'

‘I didn't realize you knew him so well.'

‘Well enough to say that.'

‘And so you went to the pharmacy to talk to him about your son?'

‘Yes, I did. Have you seen my medical file, Commissario?'

‘Yes, I have.'

‘May I ask where you saw it?'

‘It was on Dottor Franchi's computer.'

‘I thought so. Then why did you tell me he didn't have it?'

‘I didn't tell you that, Dottore. I told you that when we spoke the first time – that is, the first time you were able to talk to me – I asked if certain information would be in it. I did not tell you that he had it.'

‘But he did have it?'

‘Yes, he did. But if you exclude the possibility of blackmail, then he made no use of it.'

‘Made no use of the file? Surely, you can't be that stupid, Commissario. Of course he made use of it. It was written there, clear enough for any idiot to read: “total sterility.” This is a small town, Commissario; furthermore, Dottor Franchi and I are, in a sense, in the same business.'

‘I don't follow you here, Dottore.'

‘I mean that he would know the gossip from the hospital. Surely you can follow that, Commissario. He would have heard about my supposed affair when I was at the medical conference, and he'd have been told about the illicit fruit – he'd probably think of it in those terms – of that affair. Other people probably sniggered when I brought Alfredo home, but he wouldn't do that: oh, no, Dottor Franchi would content himself with feeling compassion for the poor weak sinner. But think of his shock when he saw my medical records and realized that I'd been guilty, not of adultery, but of deceiving the state. And surely a man as righteous in the ways of the Lord as Dottor Franchi would think that this was as great a sin.'

‘I think you're mistaken, Dottore.'

‘What do you mean, I'm mistaken? Alfredo was not my son: I broke the law by lying on an official government form and saying he was mine; I lied when I said I broke my marriage vows: God alone knows which of these would most offend his twisted sense of morality.'

‘I think you're mistaken, Dottore.'

‘I'm not mistaken. He's that sort of man. He loves to impose his ideas on other people, loves to see them punished for their sins. Look what he did to Romina: she's a zombie, going in and out of Palazzo Boldù every day, drugged out of her mind. And all because she wanted to marry and have children, and Dottor Franchi decided that manic depressives should not marry and have children. And I suppose he decided that liars should not have children, either. Vicious, life-hating bastard.'

‘Dottore, please. Nothing's to be gained from this.'

‘No, nothing is, I suppose. But still, he's a bastard and he got . . .'

‘Have you seen him, Dottore?'

‘No, of course not. I've been in here, haven't I, since it happened?'

‘Of course. Well, I've seen him.'

‘Where?'

‘In the hospital.'

‘And?'

‘And he's there. They don't know what they can do: they have to wait until it heals. There's talk of skin grafts. But . . .'

‘But what?'

‘But that's not the major problem.'

‘What is?'

‘His eyes.'

‘Both?'

‘One's gone. The other, well, maybe they'll be able to save it or maybe there's the possibility of a transplant. And then there's his hand.'

‘Yes, he tried to cover his face.'

‘I suppose that's instinctive. It could have been much worse.'

‘You mean if I hadn't put his face in the sink and turned on the water?'

‘Yes.'

‘It was the only thing I could think of: it was as instinctive as his trying to protect his face, I suppose. Maybe it's because I'm a doctor. You just do things: you see an injured person and you don't think about it: you just react. You remember what they drilled into you in medical school, and you do it. And I remembered it then, when I saw him, that the only thing to do is run water over it as soon as you can, and keep the water running.'

‘The doctors think it made a difference. The grafts might be easier.'

‘I see.'

‘Dottore, I think I have to explain something to you. You aren't going to believe me. But what I have to tell you is true, no matter how much you don't want to believe it.'

‘About Franchi?'

‘Yes. In a way.'

‘What way?'

‘He didn't call the Carabinieri.'

‘How can you say that? How can you know that?'

‘They got an anonymous call. That's true. But it didn't come from Dottor Franchi.'

‘I don't believe you. The mother didn't want the baby; anyway, she knew where to find me
if she wanted more money. She never called me, so there's no reason for her to have called the Carabinieri. Besides, if she had called them, it would only get her into trouble. She knew that. She'd never call them.'

‘It wasn't the woman.'

‘See? I told you.'

‘Yes, you did.'

‘Well, who was it, then? Who told you?'

‘I'm sorry to tell you this, Dottore, but it was your father-in-law. Yes, I know it's a shock, but I know it's true because he told me himself that he did it. I spoke to him some days ago, and he told me. I believe it's true.'

‘Giuliano?
Oddio
, why would he do that? Why would he take our baby away?'

‘Perhaps he didn't think of it as your baby.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Perhaps he found it difficult to think of the baby as yours and your wife's.'

‘Commissario, you're not telling me the truth, are you? Or you're not telling me everything you know. If you spoke to him and he told you, then he'd tell you why he did it. He boasts about everything he does, so he'd boast about this, too. Besides, Bianca would never forgive . . .'

‘I think you've had enough, Dottore.'

‘Enough what?'

‘Pain.'

‘I'm not the only one. Why don't you tell me the last thing, Commissario, so we can end this conversation?'

‘Your father-in-law told me that it wasn't his idea.'

‘Oh, no. No. You can't expect me to believe that. She loved him. He was her son in everything, everything but his birth. She loved him. She was his mother. He was her baby. She watched him grow . . . Well, what do you say, Commissario? Or do you still want me to believe your lie?'

‘I didn't say anything, Dottore: neither lie nor accusation. I didn't suggest it was your wife: you did.'

‘Then Franchi didn't . . .'

‘No, Dottore. He may have told your friend's mother, and we know of other cases where he told people about what was in the medical records of people they knew.'

‘But did you ask Franchi?'

‘I did, but he didn't answer.'

‘Like me, eh?'

‘Perhaps a bit. But in his case, I think it's because he can't.'

‘Why?'

‘The bandages. And they said his mouth was badly burned, as well.'

‘My God, my God. What will happen?'

‘To whom?'

‘To him.'

‘They have to wait.'

‘And to me?'

‘That will depend on your lawyer.'

‘Do I have to have one?'

‘It would be best.'

‘But do I have to have one?'

‘No. You have the right to defend yourself, if you please. But it's not a wise choice.'

‘I haven't made any wise choices, have I?'

‘No, you haven't.'

‘I think the best thing is to return where I was, then.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘I couldn't speak when you saw me in the hospital that first time, but then my voice came back. I wasn't pretending, you know, Commissario. It came back, within a few days. But this time I think I don't want to talk because I have nothing more to say.'

‘I don't understand . . . Dottore, I really don't understand. Dottor Pedrolli, are you listening? Dottore, can you hear me? Dottore? All right. Vianello, would you open the door, and we'll take the dottore back to his cell.'