Superintendent Battaglia walked in with Parisi and De Carli, another officer from her team who was practically her shadow. She was pointing something out on a piece of paper, and her face looked strained. The two men were nodding attentively, occasionally making a comment of their own. Together, they were clearly a triad, three elements that formed a single unit: the superintendent was the pivot and the two officers the arms of a well-oiled mechanism. Teresa spoke in terse sentences that she often left unfinished; it didn’t matter, her companions already knew what she meant. They completed her sentences for her, and promptly assured her that whatever she requested, she could consider it done. They were not trying to suck up to her, it was simply, deep-seated respect.

Massimo suddenly felt foolish about his gift. He placed it on the superintendent’s desk, pushing it away with a finger as if in a last-ditch attempt to distance himself from it. Even the fact that he had sat down suddenly felt like a rash decision.

The trio’s attention was drawn by this slight movement and the rustling of the wrapping paper. Massimo watched as the superintendent’s expression shifted from surprise to irritation, like a large cat coming across some unappetizing prey trespassing on its territory.

“What are you doing in my office?” she asked, every syllable marked out like a bite. This was not a good sign.

Massimo didn’t quite know how to break the news to her. He would have rather started with the gift.

“It’s my office, too, now,” he said.

“Come again?”

Massimo had a feeling she’d heard him the first time.

“There’s a burst water pipe in my office,” he explained, his tone not nearly as confident as he’d intended. “I’ll have to work in here for a while. With you. That’s what Chief Ambrosini said.”

Massimo saw Parisi and De Carli exchange a glance. Judging by the looks on their faces, the superintendent was not going to be pleased by this development.

“What’s that?” she asked instead, spotting the gift.

“It’s for you,” said Massimo, feeling heartened. Perhaps there was a chance things between them could improve after all.

The superintendent sat at her desk. She studied the package. She opened it.

“Shit.”

“Superintendent . . .” said Parisi, smoothing his perfectly symmetrical goatee, but she silenced him. She picked up one of the krapfen inside the box and sank her teeth into it, closing her eyes. The doughnut oozed its cream obscenely.

“There’s some in there with chocolate filling,” said Massimo softly, invitingly, and gesturing at the others to help themselves. But they kept watching the superintendent, looking concerned.

Teresa nodded slowly, her eyes still closed. She was in a state of ecstasy.

“I haven’t had one of these in forever,” she murmured.

Massimo smiled. He had finally glimpsed something human in her—other than her irritation. It had been easy, after all.