“I mean to say, no one can find him.”

“Who’s Tatiana?”

Just then, Lisa, the lady constable with dyed-red hair, came in with a smile on her face. “What’s going on, Ciro?”

“The gentleman here is looking for Corrado.” Then he lowered his voice “He’s a deputy chief of police . . .”

“Ah!” said the lady constable. “Yes, Tatiana reported him as a missing person.”

“Yes, we’ve established that. Where can I find this Tatiana?”

“Down at the Bar Derby, on Piazza della Sirena. It was Corrado’s bar. But now she’s running it.”

“Grazie.” Rocco turned to go.

“So, Dotto’, is it something bad?” asked Ciro.

TATIANA AND BARBARA, THE FIRST WITH TEARS IN HER EYES, the other with a distinct quiver of excitement, had told the deputy chief everything they knew. Their suspicions, their suppositions, the days of anguish, and then the news of the discovery of the car at the long-distance bus station in Pescara. “Did you know Corrado?” Tatiana had asked him.

“Let’s just say that my life and his intersected a few years ago . . .”

“He had some bad priors, didn’t he?” asked Barbara as they walked along the waterfront esplanade on their way to Pizzuti’s apartment.

“Quite a few” was all Rocco had to say in reply. He certainly couldn’t tell her about the seventh of July of six years ago. That was something personal, his own private matter, something that only De Silvestri at the Colombo police station and his friends Seba, Furio, and Brizio knew about. Lupa trotted along after the little trio, attracted by smells she’d never breathed in before. Behind the low wall of the promenade was the beach, and beyond the beach was the sea. Every so often the little puppy would climb curiously onto the parapet and observe that strange gray-blue liquid that made so much noise and sprayed white foam in all directions as if it were ravenous for a biscuit.

Via Treviso was deserted. “Here, this is the front gate of the apartment building. Corrado lives on Staircase A, on the mezzanine floor. Shall we ring the doorbell and get them to let us in?”

Rocco nodded. Lupa caught up with them.

“Signora, I’m Tatiana, Corrado’s friend. Could you let me in?”

“No!” replied a bitter voice, curdled by the passing years. The woman hung up the intercom. Rocco sighed. “What a pain in the ass.” He rang the buzzer again.

“I said I’m not opening up!”

“State police, Signora, open up this fucking gate!”

The woman on the other end of the intercom thought it over. “Police?”

“That’s right. Do it now!”

The old woman on the second floor did as she was told. They went into the courtyard and headed for Building A, and the woman looked out the window to keep an eye on them. As soon as Barbara looked up, the old woman withdrew behind the curtain.