Lorenza had stated that from 7.30 to 8.20 p.m. (the murder of Gaglione had been committed just before 7.47, the time of the telephone call to 118) Iacopo was at home with her. The assistant prosecutor had subjected her to an aggressive cross-examination, making her contradict herself and eventually bringing up the fact that she had a criminal record, having been charged with aiding and abetting and with resisting an officer of the law, which had definitely put her in a bad light with the judges and jury. In short, the ruling described the witness as unreliable, “firstly because as mother of the accused she has an interest in his acquittal, and secondly because she has a previous conviction for offences against the administration of justice”.

My eyes were starting to smart and I told myself that maybe it was time to go to bed. Partly because that first reading had spoiled the good mood I’d been in at dinner and I didn’t want the situation to get worse. It looked as if Costamagna’s daughter was right, and I can’t say if I was upset more by this observation – that she was right, regardless of the matter in hand – or the rather uncertain nature of the case I had just taken on.

Of course the work was only just starting, in fact it hadn’t even started yet; of course I also had to read the transcripts; of course it was necessary to check for possible flaws in the investigation or procedural irregularities, if there were any. But for the moment I had in front of me a straightforward ruling that provided a perfectly adequate explanation for what appeared to be a completely justified sentence.

It was this, more or less, that I told myself, speaking out loud – speaking out loud when I’m on my own is an old habit of mine that has got worse with age.42

I told Mr Punchbag that I was going to bed and that we’d see each other the next morning if he was still around. He looked at me the way you look at someone who’s made an unfunny joke. I took out the mobile phone I’d left in my rucksack and noticed there were a few messages. A couple were from annoying colleagues to whom I would reply the following Monday, maybe. A third was an invitation from a film club.

The fourth was from Annapaola. It said: Hi Guerrieri, everything here objectively boring, but let’s not tell the girls. Actually, the fact that I leave feeling happy and free and after a day I miss you is getting tiresome. Are you having fun without me? Have you picked up one of those crazy women lawyers who go all starry-eyed every time they see you in court?

The message was from more than an hour earlier. Once I’d removed the idiotic smile that had leapt to my lips, I replied. With two messages.