The Disappearance of Signora Giulia Read Free

seen Signora Giulia in Milan a number of times. In fact, he made it clear that he’d encountered her for the first time at the station a year before, when he’d invited her to have tea with him. From then on, for many Thursdays, they’darranged to meet in a little pastry shop on corso Monforte. Their relationship had always been above board; it hardly seemed necessary to say so.
    ‘I liked Signora Giulia,’ Fumagalli admitted. ‘I had a bit of a crush on her, even though she was ten years older than me. I confess, Signor Sciancalepre, that I was almost in love with her. But Signora Giulia treated me like a boy. She confided in me and once or twice caressed my face, like this,’ and here he touched the face of the Commissario. ‘She told me she led a sad life, didn’t love her husband, and that he neglected her. When I offered her my loyalty and my love, she smiled sadly. In the end, she put me off by telling me she was in love with another man, who unfortunately didn’t love her in return. It was someone she came to see every week in Milan, but who didn’t care much about her after his initial interest. I’ve heard it said that a woman in love is an impregnable fortress, and when I realized that that’s what she was, even if her love was unrequited, I began to spread out our meetings, until one day I was vague about the date of our next appointment. From that time on I’ve not seen her.’
    ‘Did you know,’ said the Commissario, ‘that Signora Giulia has fled her home? That she’s deserted her husband?’
    ‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ Fumagalli responded.
    ‘You’re the only one who’s not surprised, because in M—— no one can believe it. And I have trouble swallowing what you’ve said. I’ve known Signora Giulia for ten years. I accept that her husband is not the kind of man most likely to satisfy such a beautiful woman, someone so full of life. But Signora Giulia’s love for her daughter, and above all her upbringing and deep religious conviction, make me discount the idea of this lover you’re telling me about.’
    ‘Well,’ Fumagalli insisted, ‘she definitely had one. Whenever the clock struck four, she’d leave me in the pastry shop and go off on her way. She didn’t even want me to see her to a taxi. One time I watched her get into a taxi and then I asked the driver of a nearby cab whether he’d heard the address she’d given.
    ‘“I think viale Premuda,” he said. “That’s all I know, if it helps.”’
    Sciancalepre returned to M—— disappointed. The situation was more complicated than it had seemed at first.
    Esengrini was waiting for him in his office.
    ‘Unfortunately, my friend, I’ve ascertained nothing that you didn’t know already,’ Sciancalepre told him. ‘Her meetings with Fumagalli were innocent. A few things remain sketchy, but we’ll clear them up.’
     
    Two days had passed since Signora Giulia’s disappearance. By now word had got round the district and her scandalized friends were all talking about it whenever they met in private. They were very annoyed that Signora Giulia hadn’t confided in one of them; they felt betrayed and started gossiping. Some said the trips to Milan were inexplicable; others accused Esengrini of being too cold.
    The parish priest held Signora Esengrini in the highest regard amongst his patronesses, even though she was the youngest of them. He was brave enough to go to the lawyer’s house to express his sympathy and to assure him that his wife was an exemplary woman, with nothing on her conscience. Perhaps, he suggested, she’d experienced a sudden and inexplicable crisis. ‘Nerves, it’s nerves! These are horrible times!’
    Sciancalepre, who by now knew more about Signora Giulia’s nerves than the priest, settled down patiently to wait for a sign. Wives who run off always provide one after they’ve found their feet in a new situation. They get in touch with someone they trust and try to re-establish a connection