Which is true, Dottor Preston?
Which is true?” I began to stumble over my words (as I’ve noted, I am not fluent in Italian, especially legal and criminological terms). With a growing sense of dismay, I could hear from my own stammering, hesitant voice that I was sounding like a liar. “Listen to this,” Mignini said. He nodded to the stenographer, who pressed a button on her computer. There was the ringing of a phone, and then my voice: “Pronto.” “Ciao, sono Mario.” Spezi and I chatted for a moment while I listened in amazement to my own voice, clearer on the intercept than in the original call on my lousy cell phone. Mignini played it once, then again. He stopped at the point where Spezi said, “We did it all,” and fixed his eyes on me: “What exactly did you do, Dottor Preston?” I explained that Spezi was referring to his decision to report to the police what he had heard about possible evidence hidden at the villa. “No, Dottor Preston.” He played the recording again and again, asking repeatedly, “What is this thing y
