it to the police station. I want to know if it was written by the same hand as the first two letters. I am sure it’s the case, but I’d like to double-check, because whereas the first two letters were mailed,” he turned the envelope over, “this one was hand-delivered. At what time did it come?”
“Guglielmo opened the door at eight this morning,” Matilda explained. “The letter was there.”
“I assume Mister Berilli wasn’t informed.”
“Of course not,” Matilda said. “I’m the only one who read it. I have been waiting for you all morning.”
“Be brave, Madame,” Antonio said kindly. “I’ve been working on this case all night. This morning, too. We’ll stop this harassment soon. Is your husband in any condition to receive visitors? I need his input in order to keep my investigation going.”
Matilda nodded. “Doctor Sciaccaluga stopped by earlier. He found my husband’s heart in good order, though his morale is still low. Please, be considerate, Antonio.”
Antonio assured Matilda he’d limit the conversation to what was strictly necessary, and she led him upstairs.
Giuseppe opened his eyes at the sound of steps approaching.
Matilda spoke. “Giuseppe? Antonio is here.”
“Ah, Antonio,” Giuseppe whispered.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Matilda said. With a rustle of her gowns she walked away, closing the door behind her.
Antonio placed a chair at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mister Berilli, but I need your help in order to make some sense of this matter.”
“Yes, of course,” Giuseppe said. “What did you find out?”
“Unfortunately, not much. Last night, after I left you, I met with Roberto Passalacqua and Ivano Bo. They both seem to have an alibi for the time the dead cat was placed on your door. Mister Passalacqua was at City Hall with the Mayor, Mister Bo at the bakery with his father. Their handwritings don’t match the handwriting in the letters. Before coming here, I stopped by the jail to question Guido Orengo, who denies any wrongdoing. I asked my men to track down his known associates. Meanwhile, I had some tests run on the envelopes and the parchment paper. We now have a new method to isolate and classify fingerprints, recently perfected by Scotland Yard. Unfortunately, my men were unable to locate even one complete fingerprint. Too many people handled the letters: mailmen, post office employees. As to the letters, in theory, only you, the writer, and I handled them. Still, we couldn’t find a print clear enough to be used as evidence. So I’m back at the beginning. I’m not totally convinced of Mister Bo’s innocence, I must say. His father is the one giving him his alibi, so we can’t be sure.” He paused. “When I questioned him, he said something strange. He said that Caterina is alive and her family is hiding her.” He watched the lawyer closely.
Giuseppe wheezed. “Is this some kind of joke?” Tears flowed down his cheek.
“I’m sorry, Mister Berilli, but I had to ask. Why, in your opinion, would Mister Bo make such an outlandish statement?”
“He’s mad!” Giuseppe exclaimed with all the strength he could gather. “I told you!”
“Calm down,” Antonio said, noticing Giuseppe’s agitated state. “I’ll keep an eye on him, I promise. But besides Mister Bo, can you think of someone else?”
Giuseppe shook his head. “I’m sure it’s him, I can feel it.”
“How can you be so sure?” Antonio asked.
“I just am,” Giuseppe insisted. “Trust me. And arrest the scoundrel.”
“I can’t arrest him unless I have proof of his wrongdoing.”
“You don’t understand …” Giuseppe lamented.
“Then make me understand, Mister Berilli.”
Giuseppe remained silent a moment, the only sound in the room that of his shallow breathing. “I told you all I know,” he said coldly. “Please go now.”
Quietly, Antonio stepped out. Downstairs, before leaving the palazzina, he stopped by the blue parlor. “Forgive me for disturbing you, Madame,” he said. “Could I ask you a couple of questions?”
“Certainly,” Matilda said, inviting Antonio to sit down.
“Do you have any idea,” Antonio asked, taking out of his pocket the new letter, “what ‘unless you talk’ may mean?”
Matilda shook her head.
“Does your husband have … secrets?” Antonio insisted.
Matilda sighed. “I’m sure he does,” she murmured. “I would be the last to know.”
After some pondering, Antonio decided against questioning Matilda about Ivano Bo’s conviction that Caterina was alive. It was clear to him that whatever the Berillis were hiding, Giuseppe was to blame, not her. She was a victim of the lawyer’s overbearance. On his way out, Antonio asked himself how Giuseppe could be so sure