But Duca and Mascaranti kept their heads bowed over the kitchen table and those fine, thick, pale brown files. Technically, there had been three falls into the water. The first went back almost four years. A young couple, a woman of twenty-four named Michela Vasorelli and a man of twenty-nine named Gianpietro Ghislesi, plunged into the Lambro, at the Conca Fallata, just after the Cascina Sant’Ambrogio. A murky episode, isn’t it, Superintendent Carrua? Isn’t it, Sgt Mascaranti? Isn’t it, Lady Justice? The owner of the car, Attorney Turiddu Sompani, who was with them, was arrested, having got out of the car and let young Ghislesi drive even though a) he didn’t have a licence, b) he was completely drunk, and c) he was shouting out that he wanted to drive across the river. Many witnesses had heard the girl who was with him scream, and had tried in vain to prevent him. Attorney Turiddu Sompani had been unfortunate and had come up against a tough young examining magistrate who dragged him to court, accusing him of culpable double homicide, and dropping major hints that it was not culpable but voluntary.
