Not so fast, Papé, Clotilde thought. Not so fast. There’s a risk your granddaughter might take your appetite away.

She rested a hand on her grandfather’s, the one holding the walking stick.

‘Papé … What if there was another trail? Another possible culprit?’

Cassanu didn’t stop, in fact he now speeded up slightly.

‘I was right,’ he said simply. ‘It was better to sort the whole business out without a lawyer.’

Clotilde tried to add a touch of irony to her voice.

‘And whose fault is it? You’re the reason I chose this vocation! You remember, twenty-seven years ago, at the top of Capu di a Veta. Perhaps it was all predestined, perhaps you gave me the idea of becoming a lawyer just so that, years later, I could prove to you that you’ve committed the biggest error of judgement in your life.’

That didn’t even make Papé smile.

‘We’ve followed up on every other lead and suspect, Clotilde, believe me.’

‘Even Cervone Spinello?’

This time, the rhythm of Cassanu’s footsteps fell out of synch.

‘Cervone Spinello? What has he got to do with anything? He was fourteen at the time.’

‘Seventeen.’

‘Seventeen, if you like. But he was only a kid! How could he possibly have sabotaged the Fuego? Is that the way continental lawyers work? Choosing someone who’s been dead for a few hours and blaming him?’

Clotilde didn’t react. They went on walking until they could see the top of the Arcanu oak tree. With her grandfather, as with all other men, you had to do some bluffing.

‘Cervone knew about my mother, didn’t he, Papé? About her trial, and her life sentence? Did Cervone blackmail you?’

Cassanu raised his eyes to the sky.