He'd decided to take off his shoes, after they shed yellow autumn leaves that littered the passage, when he noticed Inspector Parisi waiting for him in front of his office. “Are you waiting to see me, Angelo?” “That’s right, good morning. We've just intercepted a phone call, and it's kind of weird. I'd like you to hear it." "Then let's go. Do we have any news from young Riva?" “No, he doesn’t want to say anything. Other than that he was at his house near the Tiber, and hadn't moved out for the whole evening.” “I imagined he'd say that.” After they'd traveled the last set of stairs, both men began to listen to a recording. It was the strange telephone intercept that Parisi had mentioned earlier. It concerned a conversation a few days before, between Tim Simons, the American detective, and his wife. “Hi Claire, how's it going?” “Everything's fine here, what about in Italy?” "Well, I think we've come to a dead end, and it seems there’s no way to get past it. They're still holding Michael in jail, and I haven't been able to find anything that would clear him." “What do they have against him?”
