Drawing Conclusions - Donna Leon [59]
It was as if Grandesso, not Brunetti, had relaxed. His lids closed once, twice, but then they snapped open and he said, ‘I’ve sat near her when people have told her things they might better have kept to themselves,’ then, even before Brunetti could ask, he added, ‘Doctors are in the business of keeping secrets.’
Smiling, Brunetti said, ‘I’d guess you’re good at that, Doctor.’
Dottor Grandesso started to smile in return, but then his face twisted in a vice of pain; the tendons of his jaw pulsed a few times, and Brunetti thought he could hear his teeth grind, but he wasn’t sure. Tears emerged from the man’s eyes and ran down the sides of his face. Brunetti was pulled halfway out of his chair, uncertain whether to take the Doctor’s hand or to go for help, but then the other man’s face relaxed. His jaws unclenched and his mouth fell open; he gasped a few times, then grew calmer, though he still fought to pull in enough air to breathe.
‘Is there anything I can …’ Brunetti began.
‘No,’ he said between gasps. Then, ‘Don’t tell them. Please.’
Brunetti shook his head, unable to respond.
‘No hospital,’ the doctor gasped. ‘It’s better here.’ His voice came in short spurts, punctuated by long breaths. He closed his eyes again, and this time his face relaxed and the tortured sound of his breathing quieted.
For an instant, Brunetti feared that the man had died before his eyes, he helpless to prevent it; then he heard another of those long breaths, but softer. He sat motionless and watched until he was sure the doctor was asleep. As quietly as he could, Brunetti got to his feet and backed towards the door. He went into the corridor, leaving the door open so that the sleeping man could be seen.
The corridor was empty; the clink of plates and the rushing sound of water came from behind the closed door of the kitchen. Brunetti leaned against the wall. He put his head back until it touched the wall and stood like that for a few minutes.
One of the dark-skinned novices emerged from the kitchen and headed in the other direction. Hearing her footsteps, Brunetti turned towards her. ‘Excuse me,’ he said and pushed himself away from the wall.
She smiled when she saw him. ‘Sì, Signore?’ Then she asked, ‘How is he?’
‘Resting,’ Brunetti answered.
Pleased to hear that, she started to turn away. Brunetti forced himself to ask, ‘Could you tell me where I’d find Signora Sartori?’, still uncertain how to address her. She wore the habit of a novice, so he could not call her ‘Suora’, and she had renounced the chance of being called ‘Signorina’.
‘Ah, I don’t know if she’s supposed to have visitors,’ she said, then added, sounding uneasy, ‘Only her husband visits her now. He says it will upset her to have other people in her room, and he doesn’t want her bothered.’ Brunetti wondered when ‘now’ had begun.
‘Ah,’ he said, giving voice to disappointment. ‘Signora Altavilla’s son asked me to try to speak to the people his mother was closest to and tell them how important they were to her,’ he explained with the easy smile of an old friend of the family. He watched her face for signs of belief or sympathy, and when he saw the first signs, he added, ‘He told me he was sure she would want them to know.’
‘In that case, I suppose it’s all right,’ she said. She allowed herself to smile, revealing gleaming white teeth, their perfection augmented by the contrast to her dark skin. Brunetti wondered how anyone could be ‘bothered’ by Signora Altavilla’s visits or how anyone could see them in this light. He gave no indication of his uncertainty, however, as the young woman asked him to follow her to Signora Sartori’s room.
The door to this room was also open; she walked directly in without announcing either herself or the man who followed her. The woman he had seen eating with such solitary intensity now sat on a simple wooden chair in front of the room’s single window. She was staring at the shuttered