He pulled himself back upright and turned toward Rossi. The young man stood like one transfixed, his left arm raised in Brunetti’s direction, his palm exposed, as if trying to ward off evil spirits. He stared at Brunetti, his mouth agape.

Brunetti took a step toward him, but Rossi stepped quickly back, his hand still raised.

‘Are you all right?’ Brunetti asked, stopping at the door.

The younger man tried to speak, but no sound came. He lowered his arm and said something, but his voice was so soft Brunetti couldn’t hear what it was.

In an attempt to cover the awkwardness of the moment, Brunetti said, ‘Well, I’m afraid I might not have been right about the windows. There’s nothing to see at all.’

Rossi’s face relaxed and he tried to smile, but his nervousness remained and was contagious.

Trying to move away from all thoughts of the terrace, Brunetti asked, ‘Can you give me some idea of what the consequences of all of this will be?’

‘Excuse me?’ Rossi said.

‘What’s likely to happen?’

Rossi moved back a step and began to answer, his voice taking on the curiously incantatory rhythms of someone who has heard himself say the same thing countless times, ‘In the case that permits were applied for at the time of construction but final approval was never granted, a fine is imposed, depending on the seriousness of the violation of the building codes in force at the time.’ Brunetti remained immobile and the young man continued. ‘In the event that neither application was made nor approval granted, the case is passed to the Sovraintendenza dei Beni Culturali and they make judgement in accordance with how much damage the illegal structure does to the fabric of the city.’