Corrado Lupo

Corrado Lupo is 38 and makes a living photographing people who don't want to be photographed. He was born in Bari, in southern Italy, the son of a fisherman, and came to Rome at 20 with an uncle who had a portrait studio in Trastevere. He learned the trade between the studio and the bar, and ten years later he was the man magazines called when they needed a photo of someone famous on a bad night.

He lives in a two-room apartment above a laundromat in Trastevere, with a balcony that opens onto an iron staircase and a green Vespa parked below, which he uses to ride around the city chasing stories. The kitchen is always full of ashtrays, used glasses and old contracts. He sleeps late, wakes late, and spends his nights in the bars where money and alcohol flow together.

He is dark-skinned, with wavy black hair, long sideburns and a thick mustache, a patterned silk shirt open at the chest and a worn brown leather jacket. His fingers are yellowed by cigarettes and his laugh is always a little loud. Far too friendly, he calls everyone friend and, when a question tightens, changes the subject with a joke.

About his work, his account is that of a man doing his job: at the bar in Piazza Navona he was working, because a drunk rich man in Rome is worth more than a tourist, and the magazines pay well. Marco was the best client without knowing it. After the boy left, he says he went home and stayed there until morning, with no witness. About Marco's girlfriend, he says only that she is pretty and sharp.

When the detective asks where the boy might be, he answers that if he knew, he would sell the photo, and asks him to stay calm. It may be the weary cynicism of a professional who has seen it all. It may be the smile of someone who always has a funny answer so as not to give another. The detective will have to decide which.