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that effect, with absolute certainty, claiming to have learned it directly from your fiancée.”
    “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”
    “The witness told us that Giovanna wanted to inform you of a relationship she was having with another man. A relationship that had been going on for quite a while,” the prosecutor blurted out hastily.
    “That’s not true,” I mumbled.
    “We’re checking into it,” Zan drove the point home. “But now you must certainly understand why we need to establish with precision exactly what you did and where you were during the hours in which the murder was committed.”
    “No. We don’t understand at all,” my father broke in harshly. “You’re treating my son as a suspect, not a witness. If you have any specific accusations to make, please do so. Otherwise, this interview is over.”
    “We are in the middle of an investigation,” Zan mumbled. “We are only interested in clearing up a few key points so that we can move forward as quickly as possible. You know as well as we do that, in cases of this sort, time is of the essence.”
    My father stood up. “Let’s go, Francesco.”
    “Hold on,” said Mele. “The prosecutor is right, and anyway, there is evidence that requires us to check out Francesco’s alibi.”
    “Well, at least that’s some straight talk,” I snapped out sarcastically.
    The inspector looked me right in the eyes. “Giovanna engaged in a sex act just before she was murdered. Either it was with you, or else it’s true that she had a lover.”
    I felt the blood drain from my face. “She must have been raped,” I whispered.
    Mele shook his head. “The sex was consensual,” he explained. “We are asking you—and we are required to do so—whether by any chance Giovanna confessed to you that she had a lover, or whether you discovered somehow that she had a lover. If so, before returning home, did you go to see her, argue with her, and shove her head underwater in a fit of temporary insanity?”
    “A state of frenzy,” Zan specified.
    “You have the wrong person,” I said in a faint voice.
    “That’s probably true,” Mele replied. “But we need answers.”
    I made a tremendous effort to control myself. All I wanted was to leave that office and be left alone. “I did not have sex with Giovanna, I knew nothing about any lover. Can I go now?”
    “There are still a few questions I’d like to ask,” said Zan.
    My father said only: “No.”
    “All right,” Zan agreed. “We’ll verify your son’s statement against a DNA examination of the semen found in the victim’s body, and against the statements of the other witnesses.”
    “My son will not allow himself to be subjected to any comparative testing,” my father intoned angrily.
    “There’s no need, counselor,” Mele pointed out. “Francesco spent time in that house, and we have lots of samples at our disposal, his razor, his toothbrush . . .”
    We left without saying goodbye. I walked briskly toward my car.
    “Francesco!”
    “I want to be alone, Papa.”
    I was so upset that I couldn’t manage to find my car key. I left the car parked in the plaza outside the barracks and returned home on foot. The bracing chill in the air helped to clear my head. Giovanna had a lover. Who? How long had this affair been going on? If they hadn’t told me about the sperm, I never would have believed it. One thing I knew for sure: he was the murderer. But Mele and Zan suspected me. I had no respect for the prosecutor, a view of him that was widely shared in the courts. Zan had chosen a career as a prosecutor once he realized that he was not going to be successful as a lawyer. He was, however, very careful not to make enemies among the powerful and influential, and his obsequious attitude toward my father was clear evidence of that. Mele was another matter. He was a classic public servant. If it had been up to him, my father would have been told to wait in the hall while they