Death in Sardinia by Marco Vichi

heed. But when he approached the intersection with Viale Milton, he stopped the car and threw it into reverse, ignoring the horns blasting in protest. He parked the Beetle between two trees and got out. He thought he’d recognised Lapo, the thirty-year-old son of a couple of businesspeople in the centre of town. Lapo had been convicted several times of sexual harassment of minors. His parents were wealthy and always managed to save him by hiring expensive laywers who tried to pass him off as insane. But Bordelli was not a judge. Crossing the busy avenue in a hurry, he walked towards the pond. The young man had his back to him and was on his knees, talking to the little girl.
    ‘Is there a problem here?’ Bordelli asked gruffly. The young man snapped his head around, saw the inspector, and stood up.
    ‘You scared me, Inspector.’
    It was indeed Lapo, with his coat-hanger shoulders and hips as wide as a woman’s. He was trembling lightly from the fright.
    ‘It’s you who scare me, Lapo,’ the inspector retorted. The girl looked about ten years old. Long blonde hair and carrying a red satchel.
    ‘Are you the man with the toys?’ she asked Bordelli, looking him seriously in the eye.
    ‘Of course I am … Aren’t you going to introduce me to your daughter?’ the inspector said to Lapo.
    ‘He’s not my daddy,’ the little girl said.
    ‘She’s not my daughter,’ the young man stammered. He had a gaunt face, eyes too big, and his skin was always shiny. Bordelli approached the girl, smiling.
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Beatrice. And you?’
    ‘Franco. What are you doing outside all alone at this hour?’
    ‘I was playing with my friend … she lives over there,’ she said, pointing a tiny finger in the direction of Via dello Statuto.
    ‘And where do you live?’
    ‘In that building there,’ said the little girl, pointing to a door across the avenue.
    ‘Come, I’ll walk you home,’ said Bordelli offering her his hand.
    ‘And what about the toys you promised me?’ she asked. The inspector shot a glance at Lapo, who looked away.
    ‘I forgot them at home.’
    ‘Ohh! And when will you bring me them?’
    ‘We’ll talk it over with your mamma,’ Bordelli said, to wriggle out of the bind. Then he went up to Lapo.
    ‘I’m going to take her home and come back. If you move even an inch, you’re in big trouble,’ he whispered.
    ‘I’ll wait right here, I promise,’ said Lapo, averting his eyes.
    Bordelli took the child by the hand and escorted her to the front door of her building. Ringing the buzzer, he told the girl he wanted to talk to her mother about the toys. The mother came downstairs to meet them. The woman listened to him attentively and thanked him, then started saying a few words to her daughter, who looked at her in astonishment. Bordelli waved goodbye, and as the big door closed behind him, he could hear the little girl complaining that the toy man had tricked her.
    He walked calmly back to the park. Lapo was huddled up on a bench, green greatcoat pulled tightly around him, smoking a cigarette. The inspector sat down beside him. He remained silent for a moment, gazing at the dark silhouettes of the oaks in the park and the naked branches of the plane trees lining the avenue. Cars drove by fast, as the volume of traffic increased.
    He turned towards the young man and extended his arm over the back of the bench.
    ‘I was going to give you a little lecture.’
    ‘Of course, Inspector,’ Lapo said, still looking down. He stank of sweat and eau de cologne. Bordelli sighed with irritation.
    ‘I want you to listen very closely, because I don’t like to say things twice.’
    ‘Of course, Inspector,’ Lapo repeated. Bordelli turned round to face the avenue.
    ‘From now on I’m going to have my men follow you, day and night. If I find out that you’ve come within ten yards of any little girl, I’m going to come and get you personally and take you straight to the Murate and charge you with