The Golden Egg by Donna Leon

Author:Donna Leon [Leon, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780802121011
Amazon: 0802121012
Goodreads: 16115714
Publisher: William Heinemann
Published: 2013-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

16

He called the officers’ squad room, only to be told that Pucetti was out on patrol. He asked for the young man’s telefonino number, entered it into his own, and called. Pucetti answered, said he was in San Marco, watching the pigeons and the tourists avoid the rain.

Brunetti told him about Rizzardi’s call and was surprised by the force of the young man’s response. ‘What happened? Is she badly hurt?’

Brunetti repeated that all he knew was what Rizzardi had told him: she was in the Emergency Room, and it looked as if she’d been attacked.

‘Can I meet you there, Commissario?’ Pucetti asked.

‘That’s why I’m calling,’ Brunetti said, surprised that Pucetti hadn’t assumed that. ‘I’m leaving now. Rizzardi will meet us there.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Fifteen minutes.’ The young man broke the connection before he did.

He looked out the window: no sign of Foa or his boat. He put on his raincoat, took his umbrella from the bottom of the cupboard, and left the Questura, telling the man

at the door that he was going to the hospital to talk to a witness.

The rain had intensified while he was inside, and his shoes were soon soaked at the toe and then along the sides. The rain had cleaned the pavement and had cleared the streets: although he saw few people on the way to the hospital, inside there was the usual back and forth of visitors, doctors and nurses, and bathrobed and slippered patients.

The automatic doors slid open as he approached them, and he walked into the waiting area of the Pronto Soccorso. He walked past the reception window and into the first corridor, intent on finding either Rizzardi or Pucetti.

‘Signore,’ a voice behind him called out. ‘You have to register.’ He took out his warrant card and went back to the door of the small cubicle where the receptionist sat behind his computer. He was an owl-like man with sparse hair who looked perfectly at home inside his glass-fronted box.

Brunetti held up his warrant card and said, ‘I’m looking for Dottor Rizzardi.’

Disgruntled, needing to score even this small point, the man behind the desk said, ‘You have to show me before you go in.’

Brunetti was about to snap back at him when he recalled the mantra Paola had been beating into his head for two decades: ‘This is the only power this man has, and it is the only power he will ever have in his life. Either you show him that you respect it, or he will cause you more trouble than it’s worth.’

‘Ah, sorry,’ Brunetti said, putting his card back in his wallet. ‘I forgot.’

The man nodded, apparently mollified. ‘She’s in the third room on the left.’

‘One of our men in uniform should be here soon. Would you send him down to us?’ Brunetti asked and then, invoking the wisdom of Paola, added, ‘Please.’

The man raised his hand, glad now to help. ‘Of course, Signore.’

Brunetti knocked at the door, waited a few seconds, and went in. Rizzardi was standing at the foot of the bed, reading a form attached to a thick plastic clipboard.

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