The Disappearance of Signora Giulia Read Online Free Page A

‘Poor Signora Giulia’ to Esengrini when he visited him in his office every few days towards evening. With Esengrini, he spoke only of the undeniably disappointing results of a search conducted throughout the whole of Italy with Signora Giulia’s photo. Esengrini himself had provided the photo, and Sciancalepre had a copy pasted on the cover of the file kept locked in his desk. Each day, when he opened the drawer, those sad eyes looked up at him, as if begging him to persevere. Don’t give up , they said to him, look for me, don’t lose heart. You’ll find me.
    The more the Commissario thought about Signora Giulia’s disappearance and the details his investigation had turned up, the less he understood the matter. With whom had she fled? Not with Fumagalli. Not with Luciano Barsanti, at least not according to the letter. Of course, it could very well be said that Barsanti and Signora Giulia had arranged the letter between them, convinced that the gardener’s wife would give it to Esengrini – as if Signora Giulia had said indirectly to her husband, I’ve got out of there, I’m with a man, and it won’t do for you to look for me or start a scandal. There’s no going back. Have the separation papers prepared with me as the guilty party. Do whatever you want but forget me, and I’ll forget you.
    And yet, it couldn’t have been like that. What about Emilia? Was it possible that her mother was no longer concerned about her? Why didn’t she at least send a few postcards? Why didn’t she write to one or two friends to justify her actions? He closed the drawer angrily, gave the key a twist and got up, restless.
    He’d gone back to Esengrini’s house many times, looked the place over from top to bottom, around the grounds, in the greenhouse and in the abandoned coach house. There was nothing to offer him the faintest lead.
     
    Meanwhile, the month of July had arrived. By now fifty days had passed since the disappearance of Signora Giulia. One morning, the post brought Sciancalepre a telegram and a large envelope from police headquarters. The telegram couldn’t be anything other than the usual reports that did the rounds.
    He opened the large envelope. It was the poster sent from police headquarters every year at the start of the swimming season:
    ‘The Chief Constable calls attention to the police rules and disciplinary sanctions established by the penal code for the protection of public decency. Bathers must refrain from entering the water in residential areas and must wear street clothes in bars, restaurants and other public places. The wearing of bathing costumes is prohibited in the streets, etc., etc.’
    He then opened the telegram and sank down on the wooden armchair; the large envelope containing the poster fell to the floor.
    ‘Rome, Police Headquarters. Information concerning the search for Giulia Esengrini and Luciano Barsanti: yesterday Luciano Barsanti applied for a passport, giving his address as via Agamer, n. 15, Rome. Awaiting instructions, etc., etc.’
    ‘Got him!’ cried the Commissario, for once renouncing his own dialect in favour of the local one, as if to address the people of M——, who’d been waiting two months for the diligent Commissario to succeed. After a couple of telephone calls to police headquarters and to Rome, he prepared to strike.
    The following morning found him on the express train to the capital. I’m going to get Signora Giulia , he said to himself. I’m going to get her and bring her home, if everything goes well.
    Before leaving he’d called on Esengrini with some urgency. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘we’ve made some headway. I have reason to believe that your wife is in Rome – with another man, unfortunately, a young guy she’s been writing to without your knowledge. I can’t put it any other way.’
    The lawyer tried to find out more, but Sciancalepre wasn’t about to reveal anything. Esengrini took him by the hand and pleaded, ‘Sciancalepre, we’ve known