He switched on his cell phone. A crazed carousel of beeps announced the presence of dozens of messages. Nearly all of them missed calls. A message from Deputy Inspector Rispoli: “Lupa is fine. She’s eating and sleeping!” One from Italo: “How’s it going?” And, finally, a text from Alberto Fumagalli: “Damn you! Call me the minute you read this message!” Then, just half an hour ago, a phone call. Anna.

He looked out the window again. It was almost midnight. He saw his face reflected in the glass of the windowpane. He switched his cell phone back off and went back to bed.

He finally fell asleep around three.