Suffer the Little Children (6 page)

As they crossed the
campo
, Brunetti noticed that the statue of Colleoni was finally free of the scaffolding that had covered it for years: it was wonderful to see the old villain again. He
cut right beyond Rosa Salva, still not open, and started down Calle Bressana. At the top of the bridge he waited for Vianello and Marvilli to join him, but Vianello opted to remain at the bottom of the steps, leaning back against the low wall, establishing a distance between Brunetti and himself. Brunetti turned and leaned against the low wall of the bridge. Marvilli, standing beside him but looking in the other direction, started to speak. ‘About two years ago, we were informed that a Polish woman, in the country legally, employed as a domestic, unmarried, was about to give birth in a hospital in Vicenza. Some days later, a married couple from Milano, in their late thirties, childless, came out of the same hospital with the baby and a birth certificate with the man's name on it. He claimed that the Polish woman was his lover and that the child was his, and the Polish woman testified that this was true.'

Marvilli rested his forearms on the flat surface of the bridge, gazing off at the buildings at the end of the canal. As if there had been no break in the conversation, he continued, ‘What made no sense was that the man, the supposed father, had been working in England at the time the child would have been conceived. She must have been pregnant when she arrived in Italy: her work permit says she entered the country six months before the baby was born. The man claiming to be the father has never been to Poland, and she never left there before she came
here.' Before Brunetti could ask, Marvilli said, ‘We're sure. Believe me.' He paused and studied Brunetti's face. ‘He's not the father.'

‘How did you find out about all of this?' Brunetti asked.

His eyes still on the water, Marvilli replied, his voice suddenly grown nervous, as if he were divulging information he was not authorized to provide. ‘One of the women in the room with the Polish woman. She had a baby at the same time. She said that all the Polish woman could talk about was her boyfriend and how much she wanted to make him happy. It seemed that the way she was going to make him happy was by taking a lot of money back to Poland, which is what she told him every time she phoned him.'

‘I see,' said Brunetti. ‘And this other woman in the room with her called you?'

‘No, she told her husband, who works for the social services, and he called the command in Vicenza.'

Brunetti turned and started off in the same direction as Marvilli, his attention drawn by an approaching taxi, and said, ‘How wonderfully convenient, Captain. How very lucky indeed are the forces of order to be graced by such fortunate coincidences. The other woman just happened to speak enough Polish to understand what she told her boyfriend.' Brunetti glanced sideways at the Captain. ‘Not to mention the convenient fact that her husband just happened to work for the social services and that he was conscientious enough to think of alerting the
Carabinieri.' His look was long, and he made no attempt to disguise his anger.

Marvilli hesitated for a long time before he said, ‘All right, Commissario.' He raised his hands in surrender. ‘We knew about it before, from another source, and she was already planted in the room when the Polish woman got there.'

‘And the concerned call you received from the man from social services?'

‘These operations are secret,' said an irritated Marvilli.

‘Go on, Captain,' Brunetti said, slipping open the buttons on his jacket as the morning light advanced and the temperature rose.

Marvilli turned to him abruptly. ‘May I speak honestly, Commissario?' As the light increased, Brunetti noticed that Marvilli looked younger.

‘I shouldn't bother to point this out, Captain, but your question suggests that you haven't been so far; but, yes, you may speak honestly,' Brunetti said in a voice grown suddenly gentle.

Marvilli blinked, not sure whether to respond to Brunetti's words or to his tone. He rose up on his toes and stretched backwards, saying, ‘God, I hate these early morning things. We didn't even bother to sleep.'

‘Another coffee?' Brunetti suggested.

For the first time, Marvilli smiled, and it made him look still younger. ‘You told the barman the coffee saved that doctor's life. It'll probably save mine, too.'

‘Vianello,' Brunetti called to the Inspector,
who was still at the bottom of the steps, pretending to admire the façade of the building to his left. ‘What's open around here?'

Vianello looked at his watch. ‘Ponte dei Greci,' he said and started up the steps towards them.

When they reached the bar, the metal grille that protected the door and front windows was raised a few centimetres, enough to suggest that coffee was available inside. Brunetti tapped on the grille, calling out, ‘Sergio, you in there?' He tapped again, and after a moment four hirsute fingers appeared at the bottom of the grille, and it slowly began to rise. Marvilli surprised them by squatting down and helping to lift the grille until it slid into place above the door and Sergio stood before them: thick, dark, hairy and as welcome a sight as Brunetti could imagine.

‘Don't you guys ever sleep?' Sergio asked, more bark than bite. He retreated into the bar and went behind the counter.

‘Three?' he asked, not bothering to specify: the sight of them was enough.

Brunetti nodded and led the others to a booth by the front window.

He heard the hiss of the coffee machine, and a banging at the door; he looked up to see a tall African in a light blue jellaba and woollen jacket carrying a paper-covered tray of fresh pastries. Sergio called out, ‘Take it over to the men at the table, Bambola, would you?'

The African turned towards them, and when he saw Marvilli's uniform jacket gave an instinctive jerk of recognition and fear. He stopped
and pulled the tray defensively closer to his chest.

Vianello made a casual gesture. ‘It's before work,' he called. Bambola looked from Vianello to the other two, and they nodded in agreement. His face relaxed and he walked over to their table and set the tray down; then, like a magician, he whipped back the paper, filling the space between them with the aromas of cream, eggs, sugar, raisins, and fresh baked dough.

‘Just leave it,' Marvilli said, then added, ‘please.'

The African went over to the counter and said something to Sergio, then left the bar.

Each of them chose a pastry, and then Sergio was there with three coffees on a tray and a plate on to which he placed several of the pastries. He picked up the remainder and carried them behind the counter, where he began to place them on a Plexiglas tray.

As if in silent acknowledgement that it is difficult to discuss police business while eating cream-filled brioche, the three men remained silent until the coffees and the pastries were gone. Brunetti felt the rush of caffeine and sugar, and saw that the others were looking more alert.

‘Then, after this couple from Milano took the Polish woman's baby home, what happened?' Brunetti asked. In the hospital, the Captain had said that the Pedrolli operation was ‘separate,' but Brunetti was certain that he could, sooner or later, be led to explain this.

Tossing his paper napkin on to the plate,
Marvilli said, ‘A judge issued an order allowing them to be kept under surveillance.'

‘Which means?' Brunetti asked, as though he didn't already know.

‘Their home phone and fax and email were tapped, so were their
telefonini
. Their mail was opened, and they were followed occasionally,' Marvilli answered.

‘And was the same true for Dottor Pedrolli and his wife?' Brunetti asked.

‘No, they were different,' said Marvilli.

‘In what way?'

Marvilli's lips flattened into a straight line and he said, ‘I can't say more than that we received the information about them from a different source.'

‘Can't or won't?' Brunetti asked.

‘Can't,' Marvilli said, sounding displeased. Brunetti was unsure whether this resulted from being asked the question or from not being able to answer it.

He decided to risk one more question. ‘Did you know about them from the beginning, too?'

Marvilli shook his head but said nothing.

Brunetti accepted Marvilli's response with apparent resignation, intrigued by the repeated suggestion that Pedrolli's situation was somehow different and in some way separate from the long-planned action. He sensed that Vianello wanted to say something and decided to let him. It would serve as a graceful way to move the subject away from the anomalous case of the Pedrollis. He turned to Vianello
and, careful to use his first name, asked, ‘What is it, Lorenzo?'

‘Captain,' Vianello began, ‘if your superiors knew what these people had done, why weren't they simply arrested?'

‘The middle man, the person behind the arrangements. That's who we wanted,' Marvilli explained. He turned to Brunetti and said, ‘You realize by now that it's not just the people who were arrested last night that we're interested in, no?'

Brunetti nodded.

‘These aren't isolated cases,' Marvilli continued. ‘This is going on all over the country. We probably don't have any idea of how common it is.'

He turned back to Vianello. ‘That's why we need the middle man, so we can find out who was providing the documents, the birth certificates, in one case even false medical papers, claiming that a woman had given birth to a child that wasn't hers.' He folded his hands on the table like an obedient schoolboy.

Brunetti waited a few moments before saying, ‘We've had a few cases here, in the Veneto, but as far as I know, this is the first time anyone's been arrested in the city.'

Marvilli acknowledged this and Brunetti asked, ‘Does anyone have any idea . . . well, of the whole picture?'

‘I can't answer that, either, Commissario. I was assigned this case only last night, and I was briefed about it then.' It seemed to Brunetti that
the Captain had certainly learned a great deal in a very short time.

Instead of commenting on this, Brunetti asked, ‘And do you know if this man you call the middle man was arrested?'

Marvilli shrugged, leading Brunetti to assume that the answer was no. ‘What I do know is that two of the couples who were to be arrested last night had visited the same clinic in Verona,' the Captain finally said.

The surprise Brunetti felt at the name of a city in the economic heart of the country forced him to accept how automatic was his assumption that crime was somehow the natural heritage of the South. But why should the willingness to go to criminal lengths to have a child be more prevalent there than in the comfortable, rich North?

He tuned back in to hear Marvilli say, ‘. . . Dottor Pedrolli and his wife.'

‘Sorry, Captain, could you say that again? I was thinking about something else.'

Marvilli pleased Brunetti by showing no irritation that his listener's attention had drifted away. ‘As I said, two of the other couples had been to the same clinic in Verona, a clinic that specializes in fertility problems. People are referred there from all over the country.' He watched them register this and added, ‘About two years ago, the Pedrollis went to the same clinic for a joint exam.' Brunetti had no idea how many clinics in the Veneto specialized in fertility problems and wondered whether this need be anything more than coincidence.

‘And?' Brunetti asked, curious as to how deeply and for how long the police might have concerned themselves with the clinic and with the lives of the people who went there as patients.

‘And nothing,' Marvilli said angrily. ‘Nothing. They had an appointment, and that's all we know.'

Brunetti forbore to ask whether the Carabinieri had kept both the Pedrollis and the clinic under surveillance and if so, to what extent. He wondered how, in fact, the Carabinieri had learned of their visit, and by what right, but the voice of patience whispered into his ear a list of the secrets open to the not inconsiderable skills of Signorina Elettra Zorzi, his superior's secretary, and so he held close to his bosom his sense of righteous indignation at the thought of the invasion of a citizen's privacy. He asked, ‘And did you find any connection to this clinic?'

Marvilli pushed the plate away. ‘We're working on it,' he said evasively.

Brunetti stretched his legs out under the table, careful not to nudge Marvilli's. He slumped down slightly on the bench and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Let me think out loud, Captain, if I may.' The glance Marvilli gave Brunetti was wary. ‘Hundreds of people must consult this clinic every year.'

When Marvilli did not answer, Brunetti asked, ‘Am I right, Captain?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good,' Brunetti said and smiled as though
Marvilli had confirmed in advance whatever theory he was about to propose. ‘Then the Pedrollis are among hundreds of people with similar problems.' He smiled again at Marvilli, as though trying to encourage enthusiasm in a favourite pupil. ‘So how is it, I wonder, that the Carabinieri decided that Dottor Pedrolli – out of all the people who went for a consultation at this clinic – also adopted a child illegally? That is, if this middle man has not been arrested.'

Marvilli hesitated too long before answering, ‘I wasn't told.'

After another pause, the Captain added, ‘I think that's something you should discuss with Dottor Pedrolli.'

A more brutal man than Brunetti, or a more unforgiving one, would have reminded Marvilli that Pedrolli was incapable of discussion in his current state. Instead, he surprised Marvilli by saying, ‘I shouldn't have asked you that.' Deciding to change the subject, Brunetti continued, ‘And the children? What'll happen to them?'

‘The same thing as to all of them,' Marvilli said.

‘Which is?' Brunetti asked.