“Yeah, how come you know about it?” And now the poison darts that seemed to be pouring out of Caterina’s eyes were targeting the Sicilian-Marchesan officer.

“Caterì, everyone knows.”

The deputy inspector made a face. “Because you’re animals!”

“Listen, the guys that go there go with women. Whether they’re their lovers or something else.”

“Their lovers are just pathetic fools, tricked by guys who squire them around promising them the moon and the stars. And in any case, you’re all still animals!”

“If only I were an animal,” said Italo calmly, “then by now maybe I’d be sleeping under the same roof as you!”

Caterina said nothing in response. She just swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

HE’D TALKED TO THE ROMANIAN INMATE WHO HAD WALKED by Cuntrera’s corpse during the brawl, but he hadn’t managed to get any interesting information out of him. Mimmo Cuntrera seemed to have died in some parallel dimension that made him invisible to the others. Standing in front of a vending machine that had just dispensed an espresso, on the second floor of the office wing, the deputy chief was stirring his plastic cup with a plastic stirrer stick and looking young Abela right in the eyes.

“That’s how it was, Dottore. I was in the courtyard, next to Wing 2, when I heard the shouting and I saw the brawl. So, along with Marini, I ran over to help. I took Agostino Lumi into custody and handed him over to my colleagues.”

“Yes. I saw that in the footage from the security camera.”

“Then Marini called me, because he’d seen that man on the ground . . . that Cuntrera.”

Rocco took a sip of espresso. It tasted like a chicory broth. “What the fuck . . .” And he flung the still half-full plastic cup into the trash can. “So it won’t do any good to ask you questions. You were on the far side, opposite from where Cuntrera was killed.”

“Yes.”

“So you didn’t see anyone approach him and talk to him . . .”

“No, Dottore. Truth be told, I was just getting a breath of fresh air outside of the office and thinking about my summer vacation. I’m taking it in June!” he said with a hint of pride.

“Dottor Schiavone!” From the end of the hallway, Tolotta, the giant panda, was calling for the deputy chief’s attention. “There’s a phone call for you. From Aosta.”

Rocco rolled his eyes. “Where should I take it?”

“I’ll put it through to you in the warden’s office. He’s out doing his rounds and the room is empty.”

Rocco nodded. He slapped Abela on the back and took the stairs to Martinelli’s office.

“Dottore, do you mind? I’m going on my lunch break. You can find me down in the dining hall.”

“All right, Tolò . . . see you later.”