“… I’m not so sure now… It’s hard to say after so much time.”
“Of course, I realize that. Let me put it another way. When you were robbed and you saw the third man some twenty yards away, did you realize it might be the same person you’d played football against a month earlier?”
“No, how could I?… It was a long way away…”
“Precisely, it was a long way away. Thank you, Your Honour, I’ve finished.”
The presiding judge read out the date for the next hearing and as he was telling the bailiff to call another case I turned to look for the Oriental girl. It took a few seconds, because she was no longer where I had seen her at the beginning of the hearing. She was standing very close to the exit, about to leave.
Our eyes met for a few moments. Then she turned and disappeared into the corridors of the courthouse.
2
The telegram arrived two days later. The wording is always more or less the same.
The prisoner, Mr So-and-so, appoints you as his defence counsel, states the number assigned for his court appearance, and asks you to visit him in prison to discuss his situation.
In this case the prisoner’s name was Fabio Paolicelli, he stated the number assigned for his court appearance, and asked me to visit him in prison urgently.
Fabio Paolicelli. Who was he? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. And that bothered me because I’d become convinced lately that I was getting worse at remembering names. I took it as a worrying sign that my mental faculties were deteriorating. Bullshit, of course – I’ve never been good at remembering names, and I had exactly the same problem when I was twenty. But once you’re past forty you start to think all kinds of stupid things, and quite insignificant phenomena become symptoms of impending old age.
Anyway, I racked my brains for a few minutes and then gave up. I’d find out if I really knew the guy soon enough, when I went to see him in prison.