"What happened? I saw a strong light coming from the living room. I turn, and you are not there. Then right after, another flash of light, and you're there sitting on the sofa."

I did not close my eyes all night, thinking about the sentence Lucrezia said when she saw the flash of light. But did I really disappear? She said that a moment before I was not on the sofa, and then right after she saw me with the diary in hand. I need to be more careful; otherwise, I really risk revealing this mystery that involves me. Yesterday, I was about to tell everything. Fortunately, Joel intervened and made me realize that, for now, it is better to keep everything a secret. With Lulù, I have already risked twice. First in the restaurant, on the day of the wedding, and then yesterday at her place. It is better not to see her for a while; that way, she might forget everything. And now, let us go to work.

Finally, my car is working again, so I head straight to the restaurant. I turn on the car radio: "Murder this morning in the countryside of Ortueri. A fifty-four-year-old man, whose identity has not yet been disclosed, was found lifeless. From what we gather, the man was killed with a sharp weapon. Carabinieri from the provincial command of Nuoro are on the scene."

"The morning shows the day. This is becoming an obsession."

I immediately turn off the car radio because I want to try to live a normal day. A week of work as a chef and investigations through time is not something that happens every day. I am sure that, sooner or later, the diary will call me. But until that happens, I would like to try to be just "Chef Giorgio De Giorgi." I look out of the car, and my eye lands on an advertisement: "BARBIERI & TOMMASI PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS – we solve any of your problems."

"Now all we need is to find a corpse on the road, and then my day will be perfectly normal."

I arrive at the restaurant and observe my kitchen. None of my colleagues have arrived yet. I am greeted by a surreal silence, interrupted only by the fans of the refrigerators.

"This is my world?" I say, looking at the stainless-steel equipment. A certain sense of emptiness takes over me, as if I feel a lack of adventure.

"Giorgio. Get back to earth. Now we need to work." Enrico's voice interrupts this emptiness and brings me back to reality.

"Yes, Enrico. We need to work and work well. Come on, let us get to the stoves," I reply, heading toward the changing rooms for the usual change of clothes.

The day continues peacefully and serenely. In the kitchen, there are jokes about the "nightly" adventure with Lucrezia. My colleagues want to know all the details and understand if I have serious intentions or not.

"Guys. I met Lucrezia by chance, and, by chance, we found ourselves at the wedding, and, I keep saying by chance, I ended up at her place. But nothing happened as you imagine. We were too drunk, and she fell asleep right away. I, being a gentleman, let her sleep."

Yes, I know this is a "lie." But I absolutely cannot say that I was the one who slept all night and did not even notice that I was in bed with the most beautiful woman I could have met. They would tease me for the rest of my life.

Finally, the restaurant closes. Together with my friends, I decide to go play a game of five-a-side football. It has been months since we could play because of COVID. Two hours of pure release chasing the ball.

"What do you think about going to eat a pizza?" asks Vittorio, one of my friends.

"I'd say that's a great idea! Just give me time for a shower, and I will see you in the square," I reply.

I return home, happy, and serene about how the day is going. I take a shower and get ready to go out again. I lock the door to my house. I turn toward the elevator.

"No. Better take the stairs. I've used too many elevators yesterday."

I start down the first flight but suddenly stop. I go back, reopen the door to my house, go to my desk. I take the diary in hand and open it. Nothing! No writing appears on today's page. I sit and observe it.

"Joel. How come you have not intervened yet?"

I observe the empty page. The temptation to write is strong. I take the quill in hand.

"No. Today has to be a normal day."

I put down the quill and close the diary. I get up and leave the house to go eat.

At 8:00 PM, I find myself in Piazza della Repubblica, and with the other four from the five-a-side football team, we head to the pizzeria. What a fun evening. Between jokes, beers, and limoncello, the clock moves its hands, and without realizing it, it is 11:00 PM.

"Guys, I'm signing off. Tomorrow the alarm goes off early."

I pay the bill and head home. I put on my pyjamas, get into bed, and turn off the light. After a short while, I turn it back on and sit up in bed. I look at the diary. Still nothing. I stare at the clock, which reads 11:50 PM.

"I guess today ends like this."

I turn off the light again and wrap myself in the blankets. Suddenly, a bright flash lights up the room. I sit up in bed for the second time. The diary has lit up. I run to the desk and observe the page for January 8, which already had a sentence in red.

"You cannot ignore the diary, Giorgio!"

I am stunned! I take the quill and write.

"Sorry, Joel. I wanted a normal day, and then you didn't call me."

"Your day is only normal if it's tied to the diary. If you skip a day, you destroy the balance of the past, present, and future."

Suddenly, I feel a knot in my stomach, as if I have been scolded by my mom.

"Forgive me; it won't happen again."

"Good. We have little time. Write the word SET immediately."

"Little time?" I look at the clock. It indeed reads 23:59:12. I write the word SET.

The light that was present throughout the room becomes even stronger. It envelops me and transports me into the garden of a fabulous villa.

"Finally, you've arrived!" Joel looks at me with a reproachful expression.

"I was waiting for you to call me. Where are we?"

"We are in 1967, and we are in Hollywood."

"If I had known, I would have written in the diary sooner," I say, laughing and trying to lighten the tension.

"You don't joke about time. Remember that. There are balances that must be maintained. You don't realize that the present you are living is exactly as you see it, thanks in part to your interventions in the past."

"I still have to come to terms with many things, Joel. It has only been a week since I have been living this world in the past. Remember that too!"

Our discussion is interrupted by the arrival of an elderly gentleman.

"Good morning, Detective De Giorgi. Thank you for accepting our invitation. I am Robert Scott, the producer of the film we are making here at the Beverly House."

"Are we in the legendary Beverly House? The house from the film 'The Godfather'?" I ask enthusiastically.

"I wouldn't know. I have never heard of that film," Mr. Scott replies.

He is right. He cannot know about the film because it will only be shot in 1972.

"If you would follow me, I'll take you to the set. We're just about to start filming the murder scene, and your perspective is very important for the director."

I follow Mr. Scott, admiring the vast garden and the facade of the villa that is getting closer and closer. We arrive at the filming location. The director waves to me and signals for me to come closer quietly. On the scene is an actress covered in blood with a knife in hand. On the ground, another actor has a noticeable blood stain on his chest. The woman screams: "I didn't want to do it! I did not want to do it!" She falls to her knees and cries.

"Stop. Okay, let us take a break," declares the director. "Welcome, Mr. De Giorgi. You have arrived just in time. Now you can give us your opinion on the murder scene."

"Thank you for the invitation," I reply without issues. By now, I have understood that I should not ask questions and must play my part as a detective. The director calls the two actors over.

"Let me introduce you to the lead actors. This is Miss Mary Norton, and he is Mr. Jonathan Martin."

"Nice to meet you," I shake their hands. "Miss, from what I've seen, I can say you were fantastic."

"Of course. Jonathan Martin always chooses the best for his films," Mr. Martin says, with an air of superiority. "I am a movie star, and to shine, I need other bright stars like me!"

"Yes, of course, I understand," I reply, observing his way of strutting around.

"Mr. Martin, I give you my compliments," a young lady from the crew intervenes and hands him a towel.

"Thank you very much. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" Martin asks her.

"Well... you see... I..."

"Come on, answer. Don't make me ask you twice."

"Cut it out, Martin," the director interjects. "Stefanie is already engaged to Paul Thomason. She is marrying him next month. Isn't that right, Paul?"

"Yes, that's right, even though we wanted to keep it a secret for a while longer," Mr. Thomason replies, embarrassed.

"But that's fantastic. Congratulations to you both!" I smile at the couple.

"The best thing about marriage is never getting married. That way, you can keep dreaming about how wonderful it is!"

Surprised, we turn to listen to another guy, a certain Mr. Costantin.

"Shut your mouth, Costantin," Mr. Thomason approaches threateningly.

"Leave him alone," Miss Stefanie intervenes.

"I can't stand him. Always so arrogant."

"Calm down, Paul," Costantin retorts. "I wasn't talking about you two. It was a simple observation." Suddenly, a strange scream is heard. "Sorry. That is my watch alarm. Funny, right?" He shows us his watch, which has a ghost figure inside. Everyone else looks at him with an air of superiority.

"I see I'm not welcome here," he turns and walks away.

"What an insufferable guy," I think. Meanwhile, the director invites me to take a tour of the set and briefly explains the plot of the film. He takes me near a fountain in the garden.

"We'll shoot the final scene here. I apologize for leaving you, but I need to check a few things. You can follow this path and return to the villa."

I move away and walk along a stretch of the garden, savouring the coolness of the shade produced by the trees around me. At one point, I hear voices coming from behind a bush.

"You need to stop with your accusations," the voice I hear is Mr. Martin's. "You said you have proof."

"Of course. Here's the proof."

From a distance, I notice that Mr. Costantin is showing Martin some photographs.

"You know what I want in exchange for the photos. You know, right, Jonathan?"

"I know you want money."

"Have you lost your way, Mr. De Giorgi?"

I jump as if caught red-handed and respond to Mr. Thomason.

"No, no. I was admiring the landscape of this garden."

I move away and head toward the villa. Once I reach the main entrance, Miss Stefanie approaches.

"Mr. De Giorgi, let me show you to your room for the night."

"Thank you, miss. But I do not think I will be staying for the night. I have little time available!" I tell her, hoping Joel will explain the situation to me. But he does not intervene. No one can see him today, so only I notice his defiant look.

"Of course you're staying, detective. The new shots will be tomorrow morning, and you absolutely must be present."

"But are we all sleeping here?" I ask, noticing that the entire crew and the actors have gathered.

"Yes, we are all staying at the villa," the director replies. "Now let's go take a nice shower, and then we'll head out to dinner."

"I won't be joining you. I need to sleep in a quiet and isolated place," says Mr. Martin. "I am a star. And a star must rest and meditate to give the best of themselves." He moves away from the group.

"I'm a star here... I am a star there... but can't he say anything else?" I think with some annoyance.

We all gather in the dining room for dinner. The director and I talk about the story of the film, while I observe that Joel, still silent, analyses the movements of the people and especially the dishes being brought to the table.

"I'm sorry you can't eat," I whisper to Joel. Nothing. He looks at me and says nothing. "Are you still upset with me?" I ask him. He turns and walks toward Miss Stefanie. At one point, Mr. Costantin gets up from the table.

"Hey, Costantin? Are you leaving already?" the director asks.

"Yes, I still have to finish cleaning the equipment," he says as he heads out toward the film set.

"I can't stand that man," the director tells me, pouring more wine for me.

"Darling," says Miss Stefanie as she approaches Mr. Thomason, "I'm going to my room for a moment. I forgot to get my pills for my gastritis."

"Sure, go ahead. Do not take too long. I'll wait for you here."

Miss Stefanie leaves the dining room.

We finish dinner, and satisfied with what I could savour, I go to my room to rest. I open the window and notice that Mr. Thomason is leaving the villa. "Where could he be going?" I think. Shortly after, I decide to take a walk myself and leave my room. At the same moment, Miss Norton exits her room.

"Detective, are you going for a walk too?"

"Yes, I need to work off dinner. Everyone here needs to stretch their legs," I say as I hear Mr. Costantin's watch make that strange, unsettling noise again. "Mr. Costantin is leaving too," I point out as he descends the stairs, wearing his hat and the red jacket I had already noticed in the afternoon.

I exit the villa and once again encounter someone. This time it is Miss Stefanie, who appears petrified and shocked.

"Good evening, Miss. Is there perhaps a problem?"

"What? Oh, it is you, detective. No, no problem," she replies, rushing back into the house. Without thinking too much about it, I begin my walk.

"So, Joel. Now that we are alone, can you tell me why you are not talking to me?"

"Because I want you to do everything on your own. I am here only to assist you and monitor you. I'm not visible; it's better not to waste my resources and my voice."

"Touchy little sprite. Come on, you know I need you."

"If you need me, Giorgio, you know you'll have me. At the moment, it doesn't seem like you do."

We continue our walk in silence. I approach the area of the film set and notice a figure of a man in the shadows. He sees me and runs away.

"How strange. Joel, did you see that? He must have something to hide. Let's go see."

We run after him, but after a few meters, I suddenly stop. A man lies on the ground in a pool of blood.

"Joel! It is Mr. Costantin!"

"Hurry, Giorgio. Have the police called. It's time to act." Finally, Joel begins to speak and be himself again. I scream to make myself heard by the others. Everyone rushes over, and the police are called.

While we wait for the authorities to arrive, I observe the crime scene and quietly talk with Joel.

"Look. Mr. Costantin must have lost the cap he was wearing when he fell. Also, his red jacket is here on the ground. Why did he take it off? He was killed with the knife they use in the scene. So, the culprit must definitely be someone from the crew."

I continue to observe the corpse and notice something truly peculiar. On the right side, near his index finger, there is a word traced in blood: CASTLE!

"Joel, Mr. Costantin managed to write this word to indicate that the murderer is in the villa."

"Excellent deductions, Mr. Giorgio," Joel observes.

In the meantime, Inspector Corrigan arrives. After the usual introductions, the inspector begins to ask the classic questions.

"So, Detective De Giorgi, you saw a suspicious person wandering in the garden before finding the body."

"Yes, exactly. But it was dark, so I could not tell if it was a man or a woman. I arrived at the crime scene at 10:30 PM. I know this exactly because I looked at the victim's watch. Mr. Costantin left the dinner around 9:00 PM. Shortly after, Miss Stefanie also left."

"So, the incident must have occurred between 9:00 and 10:30 PM," comments the inspector.

"Miss Stefanie, why did you leave the dinner?" I ask suspiciously.

"I forgot my pills for my gastritis."

"But then you didn't return to the dining room."

"No. I stayed in my room."

"When I went out for a walk, I saw Mr. Costantin leaving the villa, but it wasn't 9:00 PM; it must have been 10:00 PM," I explain to the inspector. "I also encountered Miss Stefanie at the entrance, and she looked very worried. She went back into the salon immediately. Much earlier, when I was in my room, I noticed Mr. Thomason was leaving the villa."

"Officer," the inspector asks, "are there any fingerprints on the knife?"

"No, Inspector. The fingerprints have been wiped away."

"Couldn't he have taken the knife with him instead of wiping off the fingerprints?" Joel whispers to me.

"Mr. Thomason," the inspector asks, "do you remember what time you left the villa?"

"I went for a walk. It must have been around 10:00 PM, and I came back about twenty minutes later."

While the inspector is questioning, Mr. Martin arrives, looking very annoyed.

"Inspector, why did you have me called? I was not even here. I am a star, as you well know. I cannot waste my time on pointless night walks."

"Mr. Martin, tell me," the inspector asks, "where were you between 10:00 and 10:30 PM?"

"As I told you, I have no time to waste. At that time, I was in the hotel lobby signing autographs."

"And after that, what did you do?"

"I was in my room."

"Do you have any witnesses?"

"I am sorry. I do not have any witnesses. I was alone," he replies, looking very annoyed.

"Giorgio," Joel says to me, "the culprit is surely one of the crew. The solution lies in the writing left by the victim. It could be Miss Stefanie; in fact, when you met her, she looked upset. Or Mr. Thomason, but he claims he was back at the villa by 10:15 PM. Mr. Martin says he was in his hotel room... but no one can confirm his alibi, and remember, Mr. Costantin was blackmailing Martin for some photographs."

"Yes, that's true!" I say aloud.

"What's true?" the inspector asks.

"It's true that Mr. Martin has no one who can confirm his alibi," I reply, recovering from talking "to myself" with Joel. "No one can say he was always in his room."

At that moment, a police officer joins us.

"Inspector, we found these photographs in the victim's room." Martin steps back, looking scared.

"But in these photographs, you can see him leaving the bar with another man."

"And so, what?" Mr. Martin responds arrogantly. "I am a star. I always have many admirers who want to take a picture with me."

"At the end of the shoot, I noticed, Inspector, that Mr. Martin and Mr. Costantin were secluded in the garden. Can you explain what you said behind the hedge?"

"We didn't say anything special," shouts Mr. Martin. "And anyway, if I am not mistaken, the victim wrote the word CASTELLO... so someone who was in the villa. Stop suspecting me. I am a star! Do you want to understand? Other people hated him."

"Giorgio, look closely at the writing. The last letter seems modified," Joel points out to me.

I look at the word CASTELLO and indeed notice that below the letter "O" there is a horizontal line.

"Inspector, see this writing. The letter "O" looks like it has been modified. If we look closely, the writing is not completely the same across the letters. True, it was written by a person on the verge of death, but I do not think one can realize they have made a mistake in a letter and correct it. Look closely. Below the "O," there is a horizontal line that leads me to think that the letter "A" was initially written. So, CASTELLA... now the first two letters also seem to have been added, as they are farther away from the position of Mr. Costantin's hand. If we eliminate them, what remains?

"It remains the word STELLA," the inspector reads. "So, the killer really wanted to indicate you, Mr. Martin! We now have irrefutable evidence."

"No, I swear. It was not me," Mr. Martin intervenes with a pleading voice. "Okay. Around 10:30 PM, I came back to the villa because Mr. Costantin had set up a meeting to discuss the photographs. But when I got here, he was already dead! I was about to run away when I saw the word STELLA. So, I instinctively added the other letters."

"If you're not the culprit, then why did Mr. Costantin write the word STELLA?"

"And how should I know, dear detective?"

"Giorgio," Joel's voice becomes insistent. "If he were the killer, he would have created a perfect alibi. Instead, he only stated that he had stayed in his room. It was the culprit who wrote STELLA to divert suspicion onto him."

I look back at the victim and at the writing. Suddenly, I notice a detail that I had initially missed.

"Now I understand everything!" I say confidently, raising my voice. Joel looks at me in surprise.

"Inspector, Mr. Martin is innocent."

"What are you saying, Detective De Giorgi?"

"I am certain because the deed was committed before 10:00 PM."

"But Detective De Giorgi," Miss Norton intervenes, "don't you remember that we both saw Mr. Costantin leave the villa around 10:00 PM? We also heard the chime of his watch."

"Yes. We saw a man in a red jacket and hat leaving Mr. Costantin's room, and we thought it was him. Inspector, look at the watch. The left arm is completely covered in blood while the watch shows no stains. This means that the killer took the watch off the victim's wrist after killing him and then put it back on."

"Why would he do that?" the inspector asks.

"Because he wanted to make everyone believe that Mr. Costantin was still alive at 10:00 PM. The killer brought the watch to the villa so that we could all hear its unmistakable chime. However, to avoid getting dirty, he had to clean the watch thoroughly before putting it on."

"But then," Miss Norton speaks again, "the person we saw leaving Mr. Costantin's room was..."

"...someone else. It was not Mr. Costantin. They made the watch chime, then put on his hat and jacket and left pretending to be him. Later, they returned to the crime scene to properly stage the scene. They placed the watch on the victim's wrist, laid the hat and jacket near the body, and then left the word STELLA to cast all suspicion on Mr. Martin."

"But if he wanted to incriminate Mr. Martin, why didn't he write his name instead of the word STELLA?" the inspector asks.

"Because he couldn't write the word Martin. The victim had already started writing letters to indicate the person who attacked him."

"What does all this mean, Detective De Giorgi?"

"Inspector, the initial writing was not STELLA. Someone added other letters after those left by the victim."

"So, what had the victim written?" the inspector asks, increasingly doubtful.

"The victim had only written the first three letters, which are STE... so he wanted to indicate that the one who attacked him was Miss STE...fanie!"

"No! Detective! It was not Stefanie who killed Mr. Costantin! It was me! Believe me!" Mr. Thomason intervenes with urgency and passion. "And I also tampered with the evidence!"

"Yes, you are right, Mr. Thomason. You tampered with the evidence, but as you can see, everything around the victim is covered in blood; therefore, the culprit must have had clothes stained with blood. And you did not change your outfit this evening. The only one who had the time to do so after dinner was Miss Stefanie."

"No! That is not true! I am the guilty one!"

"Please, Paul! Enough! Enough already! The detective is right; it was me who killed Costantin!"

"Miss Stefanie, were you aware that your fiancé tampered with the evidence at the crime scene?" the inspector asks.

"No. I didn't know. And that is why I was so upset when I met the detective at the entrance of the villa. I saw the fake Mr. Costantin leave, and I didn't understand what was happening."

"Was Mr. Costantin also blackmailing you?" I ask Stefanie.

"Yes. He was blackmailing me for a theft I committed years ago with him. I did not want to deal with it anymore. Instead, he kept threatening me, saying he would reveal everything before my wedding. Tonight, I arranged to meet him at 9:30 PM to give him the money he was asking for and to silence him. As soon as we met, we started arguing. He took the money but kept saying he would still tell everything. I screamed loudly, and he came closer to silence me. I tried to defend myself with the knife that was on set. I did not want to do it, believe me. I did not want to kill him!"

"When he told me he forgot to take his pills," Mr. Thomason continues, approaching Stefanie, "I got suspicious because she never forgets anything. So, a little later, I went to her room, but she was not there. I went out looking for her. I found Mr. Costantin on the floor in a pool of blood and noticed the writing STE. I realized she was the one who eliminated him, so I hurried to alter the evidence. I wiped the fingerprints off the knife and took the watch from Costantin's wrist. The rest has already been perfectly recounted by Detective De Giorgi. I could have erased the writing STE, but then I remembered that I had also seen Costantin threatening Martin, and I immediately changed the writing to STELLA."

"We can say, Giorgio, that you handled it excellently. Congratulations." Joel pats me on the shoulder to congratulate me.

I do not know what happened afterward, and I do not know what the people might have thought when they suddenly saw Detective De Giorgi disappear. The fact is that I find myself at the desk. I look at the clock: it is just struck midnight.