Parisi hadn’t even looked at Marini as he’d spoken, concentrating on his game of pool with De Carli. He was winning fairly easily, but De Carli wasn’t about to give up, and every now and then he even made a decent shot.

“She can look after herself,” said Parisi with a smile. “If you go to her, you’ll only piss her off.”

“And it doesn’t take much to piss her off,” De Carli added while trying to work out the best angle for his next shot. He got it wrong and missed.

Massimo looked at Teresa Battaglia. Her altercation with the mayor had turned every head in the room in her direction. Marini had been about to head over to make sure that awful man knew she had back-up.

“I haven’t even moved,” he said. “How could you tell?”

Parisi shrugged, pocketing another ball.

“Because you’re not the first. We’ve all been through it, and she’s made it clear to each of us that’s not what she needs.” He looked at Massimo. “If even her own team starts to treat her like she’s weak, how can we expect people who don’t know her to do any different?”

“It’s harder for a woman,” De Carli concurred. “She has to prove over and over again that she is not on the verge of collapse, and that she has the authority to keep us all under control.”

Massimo drank a sip of his beer.

“I’m not in any danger of underestimating her,” he said. “She steamrolls over me every day.”

Parisi burst out laughing.

“It’s obvious that you’re her favorite. She ignored yours truly for almost two years before she learned my name.”

“It must be all those sweets he brings her,” De Carli teased.

Massimo grimaced.

“She’s a woman,” he said. “They usually like that sort of thing.”

“Ah!” said Parisi. “That’s exactly the kind of thing you mustn’t say. If you think of her as a woman rather than just a person, that’s already a form of discrimination in her eyes.”

Marini found that he was rather confused with regards to all that had to do with Superintendent Battaglia.

“I have to say, it’s the first time I’ve ever been made to feel sexist about an act of kindness,” he protested.

The two officers looked at each other and laughed.

“She’s your superintendent,” said De Carli. “Completely asexual. A superior being who could make your life very, very complicated—and, I should add, would be delighted to have a reason to do so.”

“So I’ve noticed. Doesn’t she have a family?”

Massimo saw the expression on his colleagues’ faces change, as if they’d suddenly been troubled by some dark thought.

“She did,” said De Carli, but his colleague silenced him with a glare.

Massimo couldn’t understand the secrecy.

“That’s it?” he asked.