“Fine, some time after eight. I’m going to come, too. We’ll tell you all about it in person. That’ll be easier.”
Now it was my turn not to speak for a moment. Fornelli had never come to my office with any of his referrals. I was about to ask him why he was doing it this time, and why he couldn’t tell me anything over the phone, but something stopped me. Instead, I just said that it was fine and I’d expect them in my office at 8:30 on Monday. Then we both hung up.
I sat there for a minute, wondering what this was about. I couldn’t think of an explanation, so I went back to my appeal.
2.
I like appearing before the Court of Cassation in Rome. It’s Italy’s highest court, and the judges are almost always well informed. They rarely fall asleep during hearings, and the chief magistrates, with the occasional exception, are courteous, even when they’re ordering you to keep it short and not to waste the court’s time.
The Court of Cassation is different from the criminal courts and especially the appellate courts. When you appear before the Court of Cassation, you feel you’re in an orderly world, part of a justice system that works. That’s just a feeling, of course, because the world is not orderly and justice is not served. Still, it’s a nice feeling to have, and I’m usually in a good mood when I have to argue a case before the Court of Cassation, even though it means I have to get up earlier than usual.
It was a beautiful day, chilly and bright. The airplane took off and landed on time, defying the prevailing pessimistic expectations about air travel.
During the taxi ride from the airport to the courthouse, I had an unusual experience. The cab was just pulling away from the terminal when I noticed a dozen or so paperbacks piled on the passenger seat. I’m always curious to see which books people have in their homes, so I was even more curious about these books, found unexpectedly in the front seat of a cab. I glanced at the covers. There were a couple of mass-market detective novels, but also Simenon’s Red Lights, Fenoglio’s A Private Affair, and even a book of poetry by Garcia Lorca.