“These are hours of video!” Antonio exclaimed. “They start twenty minutes before the discovery of the corpse and they end an hour later.”

“What happened afterward is of no interest to us.” And Rocco cracked open the first DVD case. “What we’re interested in is before.”

“Are we going to watch them all in order?”

“You’re going to watch them all in order,” Rocco mocked him in a singsong. “Minute by minute. And mark down anything interesting that you notice.”

The grimmest dismay was stamped on Italo’s and Antonio’s faces. “What’s wrong?” the deputy chief continued. “Did you have other plans for today?”

“But . . . I’d say . . .”

“Antonio, a nice long day at the movies with a friend, what more could you ask for?” And with a smile he left the two officers to that thankless task.

AS THE DEPUTY CHIEF STRODE DOWN THE HALLWAY, HE SAW Casella emerge from an office. “Casella!”

The officer came running. “Yes, sir, Dottore!”

Rocco pulled out his wallet and extracted a twenty-euro banknote. “Go to the pastry shop. Get a nice big tray of finger pastries and take them up to Antonio and Italo, in the waiting room.”

“Why?”

“Has it really come to this? Are you seriously asking for an explanation of a direct order from your superior officer?”

“No, it’s just that, seeing that I’ve got a stack of important documents here, I thought that . . .”

“Well, you thought wrong. Go on, get going. Ten minutes tops and I expect to see you back here. I might have other things for you to do!”

“I’m on my way!”

Casella grabbed the twenty-euro bill and headed for the exit.

Before going into his office, Rocco stopped and shot a glance at the chart of pains in the ass. He pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket. He had one in the ranking of sixth degree: buying pastries for Sunday lunch. Then he went in, followed by Lupa.

He shut the door, and the noise of the panel slamming against the door jamb coincided with the ringing of the telephone on his desk. He grabbed the receiver. “Who’s busting my balls now?” he shouted.

“Schiavone? It’s Farinelli . . .”

It was the chief detective of the forensic squad in Turin. “Ciao.”

“How are you?”

“Better than yesterday . . .”

“I’m always waiting for the day when you answer ‘Doing fine!’ That’ll be the day that I bet all my savings on the Powerball.”

Rocco sat down in his leather desk chair. Lupa leapt up onto the sofa. “That day will come only once the primordial waters have taken back dominion over dry land, and the planet is finally safe from humankind!”

“Excellent. You seem to be in fine fettle. So listen: something’s stirring.”

“I’m all ears.”