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body. He carefully put on his rubber gloves, knelt down on the towel and bent over to examine the child, touching the body at various points. Nothing on his face gave any sign of the stench he was inhaling from just inches away. Turning the corpse over on to its belly, he continued studying it closely. Piras and Bordelli were a few steps away, anxiously awaiting information.
    Moments later the doctor stood back up, put the gloves and the towel in a plastic bag, and tucked this into his medical bag. Then his customary black notebook appeared in his hands. He scribbled a few things in it and shoved it into his pocket. Bordelli came up to him.
    ‘Strangled?’
    ‘Not only that …’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘First he was raped,’ said the doctor. Bordelli exchanged a glance with Piras.
    ‘How long has he been dead?’
    ‘At a glance, I’d say three, four days.’
    ‘I hope you’re wrong. It’s unthinkable that he was left for so many days in the hands of a monster.’
    ‘God only knows what a wonderful time he must have had,’ the doctor said darkly. He could have performed a post-mortem even on himself without any particular emotion, but the sight of dead children always put him in a grim mood. ‘Can you tell me anything else?’ he asked.
    ‘You’ll have to wait for the post-mortem.’
    ‘Are you leaving straight away?’
    ‘No, I’ll be here a little longer … Give me a cigarette,’ the doctor said. The inspector had seen him smoke only on rare occasions, and it always seemed peculiar to him. He offered him a cigarette from the packet and then lit it for him. The doctor took a deep drag and then headed pensively up to the top of the hill, his bag swinging at his side. Bordelli went over to Calosi and Tapinassi, who both looked deader than the little boy.
    ‘Call the morgue and tell them to send the van, and take that poor bastard back with you,’ he said, gesturing towards the hunter.
    ‘What about the dog?’ asked Tapinassi.
    ‘Bring him, too, it’s the easiest thing.’
    ‘All right, sir,’ the two cops said in unison, having recovered their nerve a little.
    ‘When the van gets here, be sure to walk the stretcher-bearers to this spot, and then you can leave.’
    ‘All right, sir.’
    Calosi and Tapinassi explained things to the hunter, and all three of them headed down the slope, followed by the dog.
    Piras had asked them for the camera. After taking a few shots, he stood there staring at the little boy’s corpse with eyes that evoked Sardinian vendettas. The city was far away. The city where the boy had vanished into thin air. At last they were making some progress. The body had been found. But if something else didn’t turn up soon, they would be back where they started.
    The inspector sought out Diotivede. He saw him some fifty yards away, motionless amid the trees, staring spellbound into space with his arms folded across his chest and his bag at his feet. He looked as if he were posing for a sculptor. Bordelli slowly caught up to him.
    ‘We’re going to need a little luck,’ he said.
    ‘Let’s hope it’s not like two years ago …’ the pathologist said, alluding to the four little girls who were murdered in the spring of ’64 before the killer was captured. They were months of hell …
    A bird cawed from a treetop, and both of them looked up, trying to spot it.
    ‘Give me another cigarette,’ Diotivede muttered. Bordelli lit one for himself as well, throwing the match on the ground. A big mushroom rose up through the rotten leaves. Perhaps it was a porcino …

After facing the journalists with Inzipone at his side, the inspector shut himself in his office with Piras. It was almost four o’clock and they still hadn’t eaten anything.
    Bordelli ran his hand slowly over his already stubbly face, thinking of the delightful morning he’d had. Around eleven he’d gone to talk to the boy’s parents, in Via di Barbacane. He’d wanted to go there alone. He saw Giacomo’s