“In many cases, that’s a benefit. Other times, it’s best to say nothing. But I think it’s best if you know what really happened. Anyway, the two sons of bitches are dead.”

“They are. But what about the person who sent them?”

“So is he. Murdered in prison.”

“Good, I’m not ashamed to say that I’m happy to hear it.”

“Do you know what I’d do if I were you?”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t go back to school this year. I’d take a sabbatical. And I’d travel. I’d go out and see the world. London, Paris, Amsterdam . . . just between you and me, they have marijuana in Amsterdam that’s unbelievable. Have you ever tried the Grand Mix?”

Chiara smiled. “To hear this from a policeman . . .”

“Look.” Rocco stuck his hand in his pocket. He pulled out a big joint, ready rolled. Caterina’s eyes bugged out. So did Chiara’s. Rocco lit it. He took a long drag.

“Ahhh . . . I feel better already.” And he handed the joint to Chiara, who sat there, on her bed, both arms wrapped around her knees. The girl looked over at the deputy inspector as if asking permission. Caterina, frozen in place on the leather swivel chair, didn’t move a muscle. Slowly, the girl reached out her hand, took the joint, lifted it to her mouth, and inhaled. She shut her eyes. Then she slowly exhaled. “Nice,” she said.

“It is, isn’t it? This comes from Amsterdam, just to give you an idea.”

Chiara finally burst out laughing. “I can’t believe it. A deputy chief of police handing me a joint.”

“Right? This is reality, too. That is, a Prince Charming who does drugs really doesn’t strike me as believable.”

Chiara took another drag and shyly passed it to Caterina, who shook her head.

“Caterì, just a drag never killed anyone.”

“But I don’t . . . I haven’t since I was in high school . . .”

“Exactly.”

Caterina took the joint. She eyed it. “It certainly smells good,” she said. Rocco gave her a wink. The deputy inspector raised the joint to her mouth, holding it between thumb and forefinger, as if she were afraid of getting her fingers dirty. She rounded her lips into an O, and then took a long drag. She swallowed the smoke. She didn’t cough. “Thanks,” she said, turning red. Then she handed it back to Rocco.

“So a sabbatical year, is that what you’re suggesting?” Chiara asked.

“Why not? You’re doing fine at school, I know that you have excellent grades. You can afford it. Put off university for a year. What’s so bad about that? Think about Max, he’s twenty-one years old, and even this year he’s not going to be graduating.”

“Yeah, if his parents don’t grease his teachers adequately, he’ll be graduating from high school with his children.”