“Sister Claudia is the director of Safe Shelter. Have you heard of it?”

I’d never heard of it and he told me what it was.

Sister Claudia still said nothing, and kept her eyes fixed on me. She gave off a very slight scent, but I couldn’t have said what it was.

Safe Shelter was a community, housed in a secret location – it was still a secret at the end of the conversation – which provided a refuge for women who’d been victims of sex trafficking, women who’d been rescued from abusive relationships, battered wives, ex-prostitutes, or women who’d turned state’s evidence.

Whenever the police or the carabinieri needed to find accommodation for any of these women, they knew the door of Safe Shelter was always open. Even at night or on public holidays.

Tancredi spoke, I nodded, Sister Claudia looked at me. I was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable.

“So how can I be of service?” Even as I was finishing the sentence, I felt like a complete idiot. Like when I find myself saying things like “Hi!” or “How’re you doing?” or “Are you all right?”

Tancredi ignored that and came straight to the point.

“There’s a woman who works as a volunteer at Sister Claudia’s community. Or rather, she used to. Right now she isn’t exactly in a fit state to do so. Anyway, let me tell you the story as briefly as I can. A few years ago this woman met someone. She met him after she’d been through a difficult period, though in fact she’s never had an easy life. This guy seemed like Prince Charming. Kind, affectionate, loving. Rich. Handsome too, the women say. Practically perfect. Anyway, after a few months, they started living together. Fortunately, they didn’t get married.”