Every Hidden Thing

by Elaine Young

  * * *

  ‘I’m very sorry Signore, but we have lost him. He slipped away about five minutes ago,’ the doctor said when they arrived. Silently, they followed him down the passage to the now hushed ward.

  All the machines were quiet, the laboured breathing stopped; the fragile body on the bed had been released from its terror and pain. The doctor left them with another word of sympathy and they stood hand in hand, awed in the palpable presence of death. The young policeman stood respectfully outside, awaiting the arrival of his superior. There was nothing more they could do. Dazedly they turned away and went back to the waiting room where they sat down again, feeling numb.

  ‘I can scarcely believe that we were sitting drinking a glass of wine together just a few short hours ago. He was such a gentle, gracious man. That this should happen to him is unthinkable. I am so sorry.’ Libby said, shocked, tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘What about his family; did he really not have anyone?’

  ‘I suppose I am closest to him and even so, there is no real blood tie. My mother was a cousin of his. He didn’t have any children. I know he made Tommaso his principal heir; he left the apartment to him, as he’s been with him since just after the war. He also left a provision for the cats.’

  ‘You have lost a good friend too . . . and what do we tell Tommaso?’ He reached along the back of the sofa and absentmindedly twirled a strand of her hair in his fingers.

  ‘Let’s have a word with the doctor. I imagine he is still sedated, so we’ll just look in on him before we go. We’ll have to sort out Ettore’s place before he goes home. He will never be able to do it on his own.’ They found the doctor in his office.

  ‘Please accept my condolences, Signore Gaillard. He was very badly hurt and we did our best, but I have to be honest, I didn’t have much hope. I have phoned Zanon, who will be back here soon. You won’t be able to do anything about a funeral until the police give their permission, as this is now considered a murder investigation.’ He stood up, indicating that he was busy and began to move toward the door.

  Not long after, Zanon arrived. He was probably just as weary as they were, having been busy since the first call from Bragadin’s neighbour, but he took the doctor’s report and flipped through it in a business-like manner.

  ‘We have opened a murder docket. Bragadin’s apartment has been secured and there is a guard on duty.’ Zanon was glad to hear that Tommaso had been admitted as a patient and another young policeman was set to guard the private room where the old man slept. Inspector Zanon looked at Michel and Libby.

  ‘I have your number, Signore Gaillard. I will keep you up to date with our investigations.’

  There was nothing more for them to do. They looked in at Tommaso’s private ward but he was snoring loudly, so they gently closed the door and left.