The police chief drew a deep breath. “She’s my wife, or really, I should say, my ex-wife.”

Rocco’s jaw dropped in amazement. “Your ex-wife?”

“Right,” the police chief admitted gravely.

“The woman who dumped you for an editor at La Stampa is a journalist now?”

“That’s not all. She’s even moved back here from Turin.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it. And anyway, I’ll get her in my line of sight one of these days. You know the saying? The world spins from east to west and sooner or later . . .”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, that’s geography.” And he smiled, baring his teeth.

“Do you realize that that woman has been attacking me in article after article for days now? And it’s all your fault!”

“Schiavone, what are you talking about? If anything, I’m the one who ought to have it in for that bitch! She abandoned our conjugal roof, though perhaps I shouldn’t make any mention of roofs today. Let’s just say she dumped me from one day to the next! She just has a grudge and a running feud with the police force as a whole. And you are a member of that force. Even though, if you’ll give me this point, that statement continues to ring very strange to my ear. On that, at least, I think we can agree?”

“I would say so.”

“YES, THEY ALREADY SHOWED IT TO ME AT POLICE HEADQUARTERS,” said Rocco at the sight of the newspaper that Baldi, with a smile on his lips, had tossed on the desk in front of him. Lupa was scrupulously refraining from chewing on the imitation Bukhara. She lay there pensively, observing the window, her attention no doubt attracted by the curtain cords.

“I find it hilarious. The policeman on the roof! I swear to you that this is the first time I’ve ever seen anything of the sort!”

Baldi was in a good mood. The photo of his wife had magically reappeared on his desk. Offering tit for tat, or perhaps just to get an explanation once and for all of all those comings and goings, Rocco asked him straight up: “As long as we’re talking about photographs, would you tell me why your wife’s photo keeps vanishing from and reappearing on your desk?”

Baldi furrowed his brow. “My wife’s photo? This right here? What are you talking about, Schiavone? It’s always been here, it’s never moved!”

Instead, Rocco raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Really?”