The next morning, Falco returned. The permit was ready. Signed, stamped, embossed. Falco almost wept with relief.
But the system had a splinter. A new inspector, a woman named Dottoressa Lena, had been assigned to audit the Ufficio Concessioni. She was young, with sharp glasses and a sharper sense of smell. She didn't look at stamps. She looked at the dust on the files. The ones that moved too fast. The ones that gathered cobwebs. la bustarella
That winter, Signor Ricci stood in the piazza, watching Falco's cart steam in the cold. Falco saw him. He filled a paper cone with hot chestnuts and walked over. The next morning, Falco returned