Menace drifts over this story, like the fog shrouding the industrial Po valley where a murder occurred and the prostitutes who may hold the key to its solution. Anna, a psychologist not a police professional or cozy amateur sleuth, uses her mind to penetrate the gloom. Reluctant to probe too far when asked to establish the character of the victim, she is forced into an horrific investigation with an unexpected conclusion.
I stop. I can still hear that muted noise in my head, but worst of all I can still feel the tactile impression of the moment when the shovel touched the body. Now I know exactly how a shovel sinking into a dead body sounds and feels and that sensation enters my memory, joining my list of gruesome recollections, like using scissors to cut up a lung for the cat or placing my tongue on one of those porous cardboard discs that pastry cooks put under cakes.