Stefania tried. “Nothing, I’m not getting anything. But why do you want to know?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Everyone in Rome knows.”

“Not me, though. You busted my balls long enough.”

Rocco extended a hand. He laid it on the young woman’s good arm.

“Let go of my arm.”

Rocco maintained his grip. “You know why I’m here. And you were expecting me. Was it you?”

“Who did what?”

Rocco clenched down on the arm. Stefania grimaced from the pain. “I told you we need to be serious. I’ll break your good arm, too.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know . . .”

Rocco tightened his grip. “You don’t know?”

“Yes, that is, I know . . . I know what happened to you . . . Let go of me, you’re hurting me!”

“That was the plan. So?”

“Ouch, that hurts . . . don’t squeeze so tight . . .”

“If you don’t open up about this, I’ll move on to the broken leg.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it. I would have loved to, let me assure you. But I haven’t been thinking about you, I didn’t even know where you were.”

“So who told you that someone had come and paid a visit on me?”

“Let go of me, let go of me and I’ll tell you.”

Rocco let go of her wrist. He looked down at Stefania. “I’m waiting . . .”

Stefania Zaccaria gulped down a gob of saliva. “This one guy was talking about it . . .”

“This one guy whose name is?”

“What’s-his-face . . . I don’t remember the name . . .”

Rocco reached out his hand toward the leg in the brace. Stefania practically levitated off the bed. “Paoletto Buglioni!”

Rocco smiled. He stroked the arm that he’d just been crushing and stood up from the chair.

“You’re a piece of shit, Schiavone, you know that? Why don’t you go back to wherever you crawled out of?” While she was shouting, Rocco put the chair back and walked to the door. With his back to her, he waved good-bye to Stefania as she went on bellowing, making the bed and her leg traction creak: “There you go, good! Get the hell out from underfoot! Now I’m going to call my lawyers, Commissa’, don’t kid yourself. You can’t just come in here and threaten me, you know? If I make up my mind, I can . . .”

Schiavone didn’t hear any of the rest of it. He was already out in the hallway. He crossed paths with a male nurse. “Listen, the patient in Room 209 is flipping out.”

“What the fuck do I care! As far as I care she can flip right out the window!” And the nurse continued on his way.