Suffer the Little Children by Donna Leon

upstairs, he was surprised to find Signorina Elettra at work behind her desk. She looked, at first glance, like a rainforest scene: her silk shirt was wildly patterned with leaves and violently coloured birds; a pair of tiny monkey legs peeked out from under her collar. Her scarf was the red of a baboon’s buttocks, contributing to the tropical effect.
    â€˜But it’s Tuesday,’ Brunetti said when he saw her.
    She smiled and raised her hands in a gesture acknowledging human weakness. ‘I know, I know, but the Vice-Questore called me at homeand said he was in the hospital. I offered to come in because he didn’t know how long he’d be.’
    Then, in a voice in which Brunetti detected real concern, she asked, ‘There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?’
    Brunetti smiled. ‘Ah, Signorina, you ask me a question that my sense of good taste and fair play prevent me from answering.’
    â€˜Of course,’ she said, smiling herself. ‘I fear I must use that lovely expression that American politicians use when they’re caught lying: “I misspoke.”’ Though her pronunciation was excellent, the word sounded dreadful to Brunetti. ‘I meant to ask why he was in the hospital when he phoned me.’
    â€˜I saw him there about an hour ago,’ Brunetti supplied. ‘He was outside the room of a man – a paediatrician named Pedrolli – who was hurt during a Carabinieri raid on his home.’
    â€˜Why would the Carabinieri want to arrest a paediatrician?’ she asked, and he watched as various possibilities played across her face.
    â€˜It would seem that he and his wife adopted a baby boy illegally. About a year and a half ago,’ Brunetti explained and went on, ‘The Carabinieri raided homes in a number of cities last night: one of them was his. They must have been informed about the baby.’ As he said this, Brunetti realized that it was an inference drawn from what Marvilli – who had been singularly evasive on the subject – had said rather than a piece of information the Captain had given him.
    â€˜What happened to the baby?’ she demanded.
    â€˜I’m afraid they took him.’
    â€˜What? Who took him?’
    â€˜The Carabinieri,’ Brunetti answered. ‘At least that’s what the one I spoke to told me.’
    â€˜Why would they do that?’ Her voice had risen, demanding a response from Brunetti, as if he were responsible for the fate of the child. When Brunetti failed to answer, she insisted, ‘Took him where?’
    â€˜To an orphanage,’ was the only answer Brunetti could give. ‘I suppose it’s where they place a child until the real parents are found or the court decides what will happen to him.’
    â€˜No, I’m not talking about that. How could they take away a child after more than a year?’
    Brunetti again found himself attempting to justify what he thought unjustifiable. ‘The doctor and his wife came by the child illegally, it seems. She as much as admitted that to me when I spoke to her. The Carabinieri are interested in finding the person who organized it – the sale, whatever it was. The captain I spoke to said they’re looking for a middle man who’s involved in some of the cases.’ He did not tell her that Marvilli had not in fact mentioned this middle man in connection with the Pedrollis.
    Signorina Elettra put her elbows on her desk and lowered her head into her outspread palms, effectively hiding her face. ‘I’ve heard people tell Carabinieri jokes all my life, but it would never occur to me that they could be this stupid,’ she said.
    â€˜They’re not stupid,’ Brunetti asserted quickly but with little conviction.
    She opened her hands and looked at him. ‘Then they’re heartless, and that’s worse.’ She took a deep breath and Brunetti thought that she was summoning up a more