Waking to the Sound of the PoliceFranco Mirelli had no respect for sleep. He paid me an unwanted visit a few days later, before I even had time to gather my thoughts for the day. I suppose I should be glad Ilsa was not with me at that time, she having risen earlier to go to work, or else Mirelli would no doubt have been distracted and taken up even more of my time.
As we stood on the loggia, he launched into a description of his activities relating to the investigation.
“But, Signor Trantino, I thought you wanted the polizia to become involved?”
“I do. But must you call on people at such an hour?”
Sheepishly, he responded, “No, and I'm sorry if you've been inconvenienced. But I spoke again to Beppo.”
“Beppo?”
“Yes, the man who sets up the bottles for your grandfather's tastings!”
“Y
