A Walk in the Dark Read Free Page B

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.”
    I’d heard this kind of story before, not just in my work. So when Tancredi paused for a moment, I cut in. “After they started living together he changed. He wasn’t as nice to her as he used to be, then he started
to turn violent. Just verbally at first, but after a while physically too. To cut a long story short, their life together became hell. Am I right?”
    “More or less. As far as the first part of the story goes. Maybe Sister Claudia would like to tell you the rest.”
    Good idea, I thought. That way she’ll stop staring at me like that, which is making me nervous.
    Sister Claudia had a soft, feminine, almost hypnotic voice. In complete contrast to the way she looked. I bet she’s a good singer, I thought, as she began her story.
    “In my opinion, he didn’t change after they started living together. He was like that before too. He just stopped acting because he thought he didn’t have to any more. From now on, she was his property. He started insulting her, then hitting her, then doing other things she can tell you herself, if she wants to. Then he started hanging around the place where she worked, convinced she had a lover. Trying to catch her. Of course, he never did catch her, because it wasn’t true. But that didn’t calm him down. It just made him worse. One night, she told him she couldn’t stand it any more and if he didn’t stop all this nonsense she’d leave him, and he beat her up.”
    She broke off abruptly. I could tell from her face that she’d have liked to be there when those things had happened. And not just standing and watching.
    “The next day, she packed a few of her things, just the things she didn’t need any help with, and moved to her mother’s. She’d had her own apartment before, but she’d let it go when she went to live with him. And now the harassment started. Outside her office. Outside her mother’s place. Morning, noon and night. He followed her. Called her on her mobile phone. Called her at home. At all hours of the day, and especially at night.”

    “What did he say?”
    “All sorts of things. Twice, he beat her in the street. One morning she found her car scratched all over with a screwdriver. One evening, she got home to find her bicycle, which was in the entrance hall of the apartment block where her mother lives, all smashed up. Of course, there’s no proof it was him. Anyway, to cut a long story short, as you said, Avvocato, her life became hell. The girls in the community and I have been trying to help. Whenever possible we go with her to and from work. For a few weeks she even came and worked in the refuge, which at least is somewhere he doesn’t know and can’t find her. But that’s no solution. She doesn’t have a life, she can’t go out in the evenings, can’t go for a walk, can’t go shopping in a supermarket, can’t do anything for fear she’ll run into him. Or that he’ll be following her. So she doesn’t go out any more. She stays at home, shut in, as if she’s in prison. But he can move around without anyone bothering him.”
    “Has she reported him?”
    It was Tancredi who replied. “Three times. Once to the carabinieri, once to us at police headquarters, and the third time directly to the Public Prosecutor’s department.