“She was a very good girl. We’ve become best friends. Isn’t that right, puppy?” She smiled at the little dog as she wagged her tail and scampered around Rocco, whining and yipping. “Listen, Dottore—”

“Here we go again! We’re on a first-name basis, not ‘Dottore,’ not ‘sir’!”

“I’ll try to do better . . . Listen, Rocco, Baldi is looking for you. A murder at the prison.”

“A murder?”

“That’s right. I don’t know anything more than that. I didn’t quite understand the message. Yesterday Italo had to run up there, along with the judge.”

“And what does Italo have to say?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, in fact.”

Rocco nodded. “Wait, so, you weren’t together yesterday evening?”

“He got his feelings hurt. He’s all bent out of shape because he found out I told him a lie.”

“You told him a lie?”

“Oh, yeah, technically. He wanted us to go to dinner at his aunt’s house, and she’s not feeling well, but I really didn’t feel like it. I can’t stand family dinners. Let’s just say that I have my problems with the family as an institution. And he took offense.”

“For a trifle like that?”

“Sometimes for much less!”

A crack in the wall, then. That relationship that looked so solid, diamond-hard—had it already started to creak and sway under the weight of time and routine? He felt ashamed to think it, but he couldn’t lie to himself: if that couple was having problems, he could take advantage of the fact. “Did you have a fight?”

“Let’s just say that . . . Dottore, maybe that’s none of your business.” And the deputy inspector started petting Lupa.

“You’re right, Caterina. Excuse me. That’s none of my business. Thanks for taking care of Lupa. I’ll take her back to my room at the residence.”

“When will you be coming into the office, sir?”

Rocco rolled his eyes. “Okay, Caterina, I give up. One of these days you’ll get used to the idea of calling me by my name.”

“That sounds like a threat!” said the woman with a smile.

“That’s exactly what it is!” He whistled to Lupa and headed back to the residential hotel. Caterina stood there watching him go; then she turned and headed back to the cathedral, where she’d left her car.

HE’D JUST TAKEN A SHOWER AND PUT ON SOME CLEAN CLOTHES when someone knocked at the door.

“Who is it?” Rocco shouted.

No answer. The siege was under way again. It must be the guy from the reception desk. “Who is it?” Silence. Huffing with annoyance, he got up off the bed and went over to the door. “Who is it?” he shouted again, scant inches from the wood.

Silence.

He pulled the door open.