I called Maria Teresa and asked her if we had any appointments for the afternoon. She told me we were waiting for Signor Abbaticchio, but that he’d be coming late, just before we closed.

So, seeing as it was four o’clock on a Thursday, and seeing as it’s possible to visit clients in prison until six o’clock on Thursdays, and especially seeing as I didn’t feel in the mood to start studying the files for the following day’s hearings, I decided to make the acquaintance of Signor Fabio Paolicelli, who wanted to see me urgently. That way, the afternoon wouldn’t be wasted. Not completely, anyway.

For some months now, I’d been riding a bicycle. Since Margherita had left I’d made a few changes in my life. I didn’t really know why, but making these changes had helped me. Among them was the purchase of a nice, old-fashioned black bicycle, without gears, which would have been no use in the streets of Bari anyway. To cut a long story short, I’d stopped using my car and I liked it. I’d started by cycling to the courthouse, then I’d taken to cycling to the prison, which is further, and in the end I’d even stopped using the car to go out in the evenings, seeing as usually, wherever I went, I went alone.

It can be dangerous going around Bari by bike: there are no bicycle lanes, and motorists regard you as nothing more than a nuisance. But you get everywhere much quicker than by car. And so, a quarter of an hour later, somewhat chilled, I was at the main gate of the prison.

The sergeant in charge of the checkpoint that afternoon was new and didn’t know me. So he did everything according to the book. He examined my papers, took away my mobile phone, cross-checked my name. In the end he let me in, and I went through the usual series of steel doors which opened and closed as I passed, until I got to the lawyers’ room. Which was the same as ever – as welcoming as the reception area of a provincial morgue.