“Excellent idea.” And the two constables stepped close to the bar to take their glasses of Sambuca. Ciro drained his in a single gulp. Luca nursed his, taking tiny sips. “Let’s issue this criminal complaint, then. Tatiana, will you come into the office to fill out the forms?”

“I’ll come!” said Barbara, who was starting to be fed up with the constable’s insolence. But he just smiled and took another small sip of the liqueur.

“Worst case, you could go on that missing-persons program on TV, right? What’s it called again . . .”

“So you think this is something to crack a joke about?” Tatiana snapped. “Huh? This is serious business!” And the town constable blushed. “Corrado is missing! And so is his car. And he’s not answering his cell phone. And he wasn’t alone at home. Corrado has been in trouble in the past, serious trouble, and he’s even been in prison. That’s why you shouldn’t be laughing, you should be taking this seriously, seeing that you’re wearing a uniform!”

“Calm down, Tatiana,” the bookseller broke in. “Luca was just kidding around. Right, Luca?”

“That’s right . . .”

“Do us this favor, go to the office, and issue this report.”

“Happy to do it!” Ciro reiterated. “We love you, Tatià, and we feel the same about that loser Corrado. Now, let Luca finish his Sambuca, then we’ll head over to the office and take care of everything . . .”

Luca drained off his glass and then reached for his wallet to settle up.

“No, Luca, it’s on the house,” Tatiana said, calmer now and sorry for the outburst she’d just unleashed. “And excuse me. I’m just a little bit on edge.”

Luca took the insurance receipt and with his partner walked out of the bar.

Tatiana crossed her arms and leaned against the espresso machine. In silence, Barbara finished her tea. Only then did she realize that the Russian woman was weeping. “Tatiana!” And she ran around behind the counter. “No, Tatiana, no.”

Instead of calming her down, the bookseller’s embrace had the opposite effect. Tatiana released the brakes and subsided into a river of tears. Her knees gave way beneath her and she fell to the floor. She hung there, supported by her friend’s arms, like a rag tossed by the wind.

“My friend . . . you’ll see, we’ll find him. You’ll see.”

“No, Barbara, no,” she replied through her sobs. “I know it. I can feel it. Corrado is dead. He’s dead!”