Teresa hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“I’m the only one who knows, for now,” she said, though she wasn’t sure why she was even bothering to reassure this woman.

“Will you keep me in here?”

“I’m going to need your full statement, and I’ll have to ask you to tell me everything about your affair. I mean anything that might be relevant to the case, of course.”

“We didn’t kill him!”

“I’m not suggesting that you did, Marta, but I must also rule out the possibility that you got someone else to do it for you.”

“Oh God!”

“One of my colleagues will be with you shortly to ask you a few questions.”

“What about Diego? My son will need picking up from school soon.”

“I thought they’d closed it for a few days.”

“The teachers and students organized a memorial service for Diego’s father. He’ll expect me to be waiting for him when he comes out.”

Teresa remembered the little licorice thief.

“I’ll go,” she said. “And I’ll be discreet.”

-29-

-29-

The traffic jam outside the primary school in Travenì was like rush hour in a big city. Cars jostled for the parking spaces closest to the main gates, spraying dirty slush all over those particularly apprehensive parents who had gotten out of their vehicles to wait, umbrellas aloft, for their children.

Teresa couldn’t tell whether it was fear triggering all this enhanced attentiveness, or the terrible weather. The temperature had risen by a few degrees, and a mixture of rain and tentative snow had begun to fall from the grey sky.

Teresa was among those milling about by the gate. Marini was with her, holding an umbrella as black as his mood. Teresa kept her hands in her pockets, bringing them out every now and then to unwrap a sweet and pop it into her mouth with great deliberation, while Marini looked on in disapproval. Clearly the young man was a health fanatic, as well as a total bore. He was quieter than usual that day, which meant Teresa couldn’t even enjoy picking on him.

“It looks like you have lost your primary function,” she told him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Forget it.”

The children emerged like a herd of wild animals bursting with vital energy. They chased after each other, skipping and shouting, oblivious to the rain and the greyish slop that covered the road. Already they’d forgotten why they had even gone to school that morning: the mass they had just attended for their classmate’s late father was nothing but a distant memory.