SCORCHED GROUND - Giulio Amadei

26,79 €

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Condition of the lot: Very Good (new or like new, without any signs of use)

Print on demand: This book is printed on demand. The delivery time depends on the printing, which starts once the buyer pays the order.

Autor: Giulio Amadei

Editorial: Ottavio Ferrante

Año: 08/10/2026

ISBN: 9785794903072

Encuadernación: Tapa blanda

Páginas: 194 pp.

Idioma: eng

EAN: 9785794903072


The fire started at four in the morning, which is the hour when Bologna smells like a wet dog that has been sleeping under a bridge. I know because the call came while I was still awake, sitting in my kitchen with a glass of something I did not plan to finish, and the voice on the other end belonged to a young brigadiere who had not yet learned to disguise his excitement. ?Dottore, there is a fire. Via del Lavoro. Big one.? ?A building?? ?A building site. The old Malvezzi plot. The one they have been fencing off for two years.? I put the glass down and looked at the clock. Four minutes past four. Outside my window the sky was the colour of a bruise that was not going to heal. I thought about the Malvezzi plot, the way everyone in the Questura thought about it, which is to say we did not think about it at all until somebody forced us to. ?I am coming,? I said. ?Do not let anyone touch anything.? ?Dottore, the fire brigade is already there.? ?Then tell the fire brigade not to touch anything either. And call me when you have called the prosecutor, because you are going to have to. He hesitated. You can hear a hesitation over a phone the way you hear a lie in an interrogation room, a small crack in the plaster. ?Is it a crime, dottore?? ?Everything in this city is a crime,? I said. ?Some of us just get to choose which one we investigate.? I hung up before he could decide whether I had answered him. The Malvezzi plot sat on the eastern edge of the city, where Bologna stops pretending to be medieval and starts pretending to be modern. It had been a factory once, the kind of factory that made things nobody needed any more, ball bearings or bearings for the machines that made bearings for the machines that made the things nobody needed. Then it had been nothing for a decade, a rectangle of weeds and broken concrete and a fence that had been climbed by everyone who ever needed somewhere to smoke, to drink, to sleep, to fuck, to hide.
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From 13/04/2021
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