Luigi walked into the house.
It was a typical old-fashioned apartment, small but kept very clean.
A Cross and a portrait of the Holy Mother Mary hung on the wall, and some cardboard boxes were stacked in a corner of the living room.
"Go up to the attic," Rosa said, pointing to a ladder in the corner of the living room. "No one ever goes up there. Even if the police come to search, they won't bother with a place that's covered in dust."
Luigi nodded and climbed the ladder.
The attic was low-ceilinged, a triangular space with a sloped roof. An adult would have to stoop to move around.
The only window was covered with a thick black cloth, not letting in a single sliver of light.
Rosa turned on the dim, yellow incandescent light on the attic ceiling.
The moment the light came on, Luigi froze.
He had assumed it was just a storage room for odds and ends.
But he was wrong.
All four walls were plastered with paper.
Not newspapers, not posters, not wallpaper.
They were bills.
