“Gio was a mean drunk,” the woman said. “I was in the process of leaving him.”
“He beat you recently?” Mark asked when it became clear that was all she was going to say.
She nodded.
“On the day he died?” Mark persisted.
“No, not then,” she said. “He came home very angry that afternoon at four, banging around and cursing, so I climbed out to the bedroom window and went for a long walk myself in these hills. I told all this to the police already.”
She was in a big hurry to explain all this to him, speaking now in a completely different way than before. More animated, more passionate, the way most Italians spoke. Mark figured she thought this was very important for him to know and understand.
“When I returned he was gone,” she concluded.
“He didn’t take his car?” Mark asked.
She shook
