‘Lights on during the night. There seems to be no one there during the day. The property still seems abandoned otherwise.’
The man dropped his pen loudly to the countertop. ‘Signorina, you are here to complain about someone turning on their lights?’
‘Not complaining. Justconcer—’
‘Stop. I don’t have time for this.Prego!’ he called, ushering forward the next person in the queue.
‘No. Don’t push me aside. I need your help.Per favore.’
Lucia’s tone and now raised voice garnered rolled eyes from others standing in the lines behind her.
‘Go. Next!’
‘But who deals with residential and commercial disputes? Is it you, signore?’ She stood firm.
‘No.’ The man was already trying to collect papers from the man next in the line. ‘Lei.’ He gestured to a colleague sitting at a freestanding desk to his right. ‘But she’s busy and you need an appointment.’
‘Grazie.’ She collected her bag from the edge of the counter and walked over to the woman.
Lucia assumed she was in her mid-sixties, but wished to be in her mid-twenties. She picked at her acrylic nails while watching a YouTube video on her phone, which was perched against a stack of papers. She was indeed busy, as the man had suggested; it just didn’t seem work-related.
‘Mi scusi,’ Lucia began.
‘Sì?’ the woman replied, not taking her eyes from the small screen.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t have an appointment. But I do have a question regarding a property. Are you able to help me?’
‘If it’s quick.’
Lucia exhaled with relief. ‘I’m Lucia Trevisan.’
This alone drew a flicker of intrigue from the woman, who drew back slightly and assessed Lucia with greater interest. Lucia recounted the same spiel she had given the man, but then looked over both shoulders and lowered her voice. ‘Ten years agothatbuilding was broken into by reporters and paparazzi and they used it as a base to surveil me. I’m concerned something along those lines may be happening again.’
‘I remember the story.’ The woman scrutinised Lucia from head to toe, then gestured with a flick of her head that she should take a seat.
Lucia did, and handed the woman a note with La Commedia’s address.
The woman paused her video and began typing on her laptop. After a few moments she grunted. Then tutted. Then handed back the sheet of paper. ‘Do you own this building?’
‘No.’
‘Are you a tenant in a lease or sub-lease contract at this property?’
‘No.’
‘Are you concerned that criminal activity may be taking place at this property?’
‘I don’t know.’
The woman’s eyes bored into her. ‘Are you . . . concerned . . . that criminal activity . . . may be taking place . . . at this property?’ She maintained her steely gaze, and Lucia realised that she ought to change her answer.
Apprehensively, she stammered, ‘Y-Yes? Actually, I am.’
The woman smiled. ‘Well, signorina, then we have grounds to investigate.’
Lucia exhaled and her shoulders drooped. ‘Grazie mille.’
The woman continued to type and swipe her fingernails across the laptop’s sensor pad. This carried on for thirty seconds, until the woman set her hands down in front of her with a flourish. ‘Investigation complete. The property has been owned by the same family for the past sixty years.’
