The shutters in the living room were half open. A cold blade of light illuminated a quarter of a face. Enzo Baiocchi was sleeping. Corrado laid the knife against the man’s neck.

All it takes now is some pressure. A simple thrust, sharp and decisive. Now!

A sudden stab of pain burst out next to his belly button. Corrado’s eyes bugged out. He stared at Enzo. He, too, had both eyes wide-open now, his mouth twisted in a silvery leer. His face had filled with wrinkles. Corrado dropped the knife and staggered backward. Baiocchi’s hand, dripping with blood, held the switchblade tight, and the blade was sunk deep inside him. Corrado could no longer breathe, much less talk. A scalding column of vomit was rising up his esophagus. With both hands, he tried to grab Enzo’s hands, to tear that fire out of his stomach. That was when the killer got to his feet and stood facing Corrado. He caught a whiff of the stench of Enzo’s armpits and the gust of onion on his breath. With a single yank, Enzo hauled the knife up toward Corrado’s sternum, while he covered his mouth with the other hand. Corrado was filled with an immense pool of pain as he felt the hot, sticky blood gush out, running down his hips and legs. Then his vision blurred until it all disappeared, the moon outside, the room inside, the fading smell of armpits and cigarettes. He flopped to the floor like a discarded apple peel.

Enzo wiped his blade on Corrado’s T-shirt. Now he needed to get busy. He couldn’t leave the place like this. The first thing he did was to wrap the body in the sheets from the sofa bed. He’d lost a lot of blood, the bastard—he’d have to clean up afterward. He needed to take advantage of the darkness. Like a spider in its lair, Enzo turned the bloodstained bedclothes into a white cocoon. Hastily, he got dressed. He found the keys to Corrado’s car, which was parked right outside the living room window. He’d have to move quickly and silently and hope that the sleepless eyes of some retiree or some youngster coming home from a late-night drinking spree didn’t catch sight of him.