Across the corridor a light was still on under Giovanni’s door.
She had passed it on the way to her room.
She had not stopped.
She had heard something though — movement, the specific sound of a drawer opening and closing, the quality of someone looking for something or having found something and sitting with it.
She had not stopped.
She had gone to bed.
She had stared at the ceiling for a long time.
She had not thought about what Giovanni might have found.
She had not let herself think about it.
In his room Giovanni sat at his desk with a single piece of paper in front of him.
He had found it in Bianca’s sitting room three days ago.
Not snooping — he had gone in looking for a book she had borrowed and never returned and had found the book and beneath the book a piece of paper th
