“Under the coordination of my chief, the head of the Flying Squad, and the examining magistrate. But the crucial checks had all been carefully carried out in the immediate aftermath of the crime.”

“Did you conduct a search of the victim’s apartment?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“There was no need. It had already been done by the forensics team.”

“So – correct me if I’ve misunderstood – you were never at the scene of the crime.”

“I think I’ve already answered that.”

First sign of irritation. It’s never a good idea to get irritated while on the witness stand. It isn’t a good idea for the witness and it isn’t a good idea for the defence or the prosecution. The next step is that you lose your cool and the final (and potentially lethal) step is that you lose your head. Sometimes it’s necessary to get a witness rattled, even though as time passes it’s a practice I like less and less. And when a witness gets rattled, the best way to get them even more rattled is to ignore their bursts of irritation.

So I ignored the resentful tone of his answer, thinking Tancredi was right: Montesano wasn’t particularly pleasant and the court wouldn’t like him.

“Did you reconstruct the way the murderer got in and the way he got out?”

“In what sense?”

“I’m not sure how to make it any clearer. I repeat: did you reconstruct the way the murderer got in and out?”

He heaved a sigh of frustration. “There was nothing to reconstruct. This wasn’t a murder committed in an open 185space, where there could have been various ways of getting to the scene of the crime and leaving it.”

“Do you know what floor the apartment then occupied by Gaglione is on?”

“No, I don’t think —”

“You don’t know the apartment is on a mezzanine?”

“It’s not a detail I bothered with.”

“So am I to assume you don’t know there’s a balcony looking out on the inner courtyard of the building?”

“No, I don’t.”

“And you don’t know what height the balcony is in relation to the courtyard?”

“Avvocato,” Marinelli cut in, “let’s avoid superfluous or pointlessly provocative questions. The witness has already said he doesn’t have direct knowledge of the place.”

“The avenue I’m trying to pursue, Your Honour, is whether or not the witness was informed by his subordinates —”

“Avvocato, please don’t debate my decisions. Go on to the next question.”

I nodded. I hoped the implication was clear: I don’t agree with this decision, but all I can do is respect it. I turned back to the witness. His face was as closed as a fist.

“Does the name Sabino Arcidiacono mean anything to you?”

His hostile expression turned to one of bewilderment. “To be honest, no.” Then he asked the judge: “If I can consult my papers…”