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mother fall to the floor like an empty sack, and helped her husband put her back on her feet. He didn’t mention the rape, there was no need. He stayed with the Pellissaris for more than half an hour. Before leaving he had predictably vowed to catch the killer, to give the wretched couple something to hold on to. But as he was descending the stairs, he’d felt like a liar.
    Commissioner Inzipone was blowing fire from his nostrils, having growled at Bordelli in private to get busy … As if up till then he’d only been scratching his balls, for chrissakes. Truth be told, he didn’t know which way to turn. Giacomo had been buried in a hurry in a shallow grave. Whoever had done the digging certainly wasn’t concerned with making the body disappear for ever, but only with getting it out of his hair. Maybe it was better the kid was dead. What sort of life would he have had after what he’d been through?
    The inspector and Piras had searched the place where the body had been found for clues, any clue, within a radius of about fifty yards. But, aside from a few empty rifle cartridges, they’d found nothing. As if that wasn’t enough, it had been raining all week, and the layer of rotting leaves didn’t help.
    Bordelli had sent a few patrols to La Panca a good while before, to question the inhabitants of the area and check to see whether the other trails really were impassable for cars. Perhaps the hunter had been exaggerating.
    The inspector was hoping there might be a witness who’d seen something important, or that Diotivede might make a discovery that would prove to be a turning point. He was hoping, but he wasn’t terribly convinced.
    ‘Let me smoke, Piras.’
    ‘Can I open a window?’
    ‘Do whatever you like, but let me smoke.’
    He lit a cigarette as the Sardinian threw open the windows as if it were the middle of July. The rain had started falling again.
    ‘We’re going to solve this, Inspector.’
    ‘Even at your age I wasn’t so optimistic.’
    ‘I can feel it …’
    ‘We need a psychic,’ said the inspector and, upon saying that, he thought again of Amelia.
Tomorrow morning
… the fortune-teller had said, before clamming up. To distract himself he told Piras the story of the tarot cards, and Piras loosened up and smiled.
    ‘When I was a young boy, there was a sort of witch who lived in Bonarcado. People said she had the power to kill people from afar, and whenever I saw her on the street in town my legs would start to shake.’
    Gusts of damp wind blew in through the open window.
    ‘There’s something I really want to do, Piras.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Promise not to tell anyone?’
    ‘Promise.’
    ‘I would really like to have another little chat with that fortune-teller,’ said Bordelli.
    ‘Well, given our situation, anything’s worth a try …’
    ‘Thanks for the encouragement.’
    The inspector picked up the receiver and dialled Rosa’s number, hoping to find her at home.
    ‘Hello?’ said Rosa after the tenth ring.
    ‘Ciao, Rosa, it’s me.’
    ‘Oh my God, I heard about the little boy on the radio … How horrible!’
    ‘Rosa, how can I get hold of Amelia?’ Bordelli asked curtly.
    ‘She’d foreseen it … Do you remember what she said?’
    ‘How can I reach her, Rosa?’
    ‘Oh, dear God, I can’t bear the thought of it … Poor little Giacomino …’
    ‘Rosa, please, tell me where I can reach Signora Amelia.’
    ‘Who on earth could have done such a thing?’
    ‘Rosa! Can’t you hear me?’
    At last he got her to listen and repeated that he wanted to speak with Amelia as soon as possible.
    ‘I’ll try calling her,’ said Rosa, and she hung up. Bordelli and Piras sat there in silence, waiting, shooting each other a glance every so often. The ring of the telephone made them jump in their seats. It was Diotivede.
    ‘I can confirm everything. The decomposition process started not more than three days ago. He died of strangulation, and was raped first … by more