He could hear the water splashing in the bathroom. He opened the first door and found a pink bedroom. There were just two side tables, no armoire, no dresser. The side tables were empty, too. The second room was a sort of office, the walls lined with photos of a trip to India. The desk drawers were empty, too. The third door was the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the tub, Amelia was dipping her hand in the water, lost in thought.

“De qué hes? Apéra’m s’as besonh d’ajuda.”

“I don’t understand . . . what did you just say?”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.

“No.”

“Do you need help?”

“Why would you frequent people like Cremonesi?”

Amelia didn’t take her eyes off the water in the tub. “Because they’re so generous.”

“They’re not nice people.”

“Do you know any nice people?”

“What are Cremonesi, Grange, and Dr. Turrini doing together?”

“Business.”

“What kind of business?”

“I couldn’t say. I’m not on such intimate terms with them.”

“But you go to dinner with them.”

At last Amelia looked up. “Did you have me followed?”

“Let’s just say it was a coincidence . . .”

“Dottor Schiavone, are we going to fuck today, or would you rather summon me to police headquarters, accompanied by my lawyer?”

“I imagine I wouldn’t get my four hundred euros back.”

“You imagine accurately.”

“Then let’s forget about the poetry and just fuck.”

“Let me warn you, I don’t kiss.”

“Neither do I.”

HE WAS GIVING IT HIS ALL. AMELIA WAS SWEET, GENTLE, sensitive, and clearly at least somewhat experienced. She touched where touching was appropriate; it was delightfully easy to penetrate her. And while he was possessing her, he looked her in the face. She kept her eyes shut. Her generous bosom seemed even more attractive now that it didn’t have to battle the law of gravity. Her skin was well cared for, without stretch marks, and her legs were muscular. The tattooed bee on her neck was pulsating over her veins, and a light patina of sweat had appeared on her forehead. Her black hair spread out on the pillow seemed to be moving with the wind. He didn’t need to think. Just feel her body. He caressed her arms, grabbed her breasts, massaged her thighs. His penis was burning in spite of the condom, but it was a faint, almost tender burning sensation.