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Commissioner.”
    “We’re trying to find if your husband had a second life. I mean...”
    “That’s impossible!”
    “You seem quite confident.”
    “I have good reason to be confident.”
    “I don’t doubt it. However, did your husband limit himself to only going to the art gallery, or did he often visit his friends?”
    “He had friends, but he rarely visited them. Usually they came to our house for dinner at the weekends. I mean, they never joined him just for a cup of coffee.”
    “I understand. As for your marriage, was everything fine with your relationship?”
    "Commissioner, even if Charles was older than me, I have never thought about leaving him for someone else. He was fine the way he was, I assure you."
    “I understand that, but I was talking about some...”
    "I think I understand what you meant, Germano. I can tell you again, from that point of view, it was all good."
    “You tell me your husband didn’t have a second life, and you say you’re sure about that. But there is always some kind of doubt.”
    “Not in this case. When I did have certain doubts, I took the proper measures.”
    “Can you explain that better?”
    “I hired a private investigator to follow him for several weeks, day and night. Nothing came of it.”
    “Can you give me the name of this man?”
    “His name is Giovanni Arcangeli. I can give you his phone number.”
    “No thanks.”
    The rest of the conversation settled on mundane matters, and he uncovered no meaningful insights. After he drank the coffee that Mrs. Bezzi kindly offered, the Commissioner went back to his car. He intended to reach his office as soon as possible.
    More details, uncovered by Germano during the interview, put the surveillance of Giovanni Archangel between spring and summer, two years before. It was perhaps too far back to be useful to the Commissioner’s investigation. Despite this, it was essential he made the effort to make sense of it.
    He called the private investigator to call at the police station at noon. From the way he acted, and from his body odor, Germano concluded that Giovanni Arcangeli had suffered some recent problems with alcohol. He was a drunk. Even so, he hoped that the man he interrogated could understand all the questions.
    “Good morning, Arcangeli, excuse me if...”
    “Good morning, Commissioner. Don’t excuse yourself, just tell me what you want.”
    "We're investigating the murder of Carlo Riva, and we understand that some time ago, you had the opportunity to observe him closely."
    “His wife called me to do the job. I watched from the sidelines for three weeks, but nothing came of it. Commissioner, it seemed like he was a saint."
    “Did you take any pictures?”
    "Yes, I did. On those few occasions when I watched him meet up with people, that's all."
    “With women?”
    "No, in both cases they were men. The first time was outside a bank in Rome. The guy with whom he went for coffee probably worked there. In his fifties, and well dressed."
    “What about the second time?”
    “It was a young man. Older than eighteen, because after the meeting they left in their own cars. I think he may have been the son.”
    “Go ahead, tell me about that day.”
    "My recollection is all a bit vague, to tell you the truth. It's been almost two years. However I do remember how well she paid me for the work, the highest I'd ever..."
    “Just try to stay on our case.”
    “Oh yes, sorry. I followed the old man until he stopped at the square in Pietralata. He stayed there for an hour and a half, until the boy came.”
    “What did they do?”
    “It seems to me that they went to have a coffee. After that, they both returned the way they came.”
    "Do you remember the model of the car in which the boy showed up?"
    “No, I don’t’ remember it.”
    “Okay, we're done for now. Thank you for coming, and please call me immediately if you think of anything else relevant to this matter."
    “You can count on it.”
    The Commissioner