Police manager Anna Musumeci leaves a farewell letter, written in her own hand, beside her hanged body. She was investigating the death of a labourer from the Amunì cooperative, governed by Don Damiano. The quaestor willingly surrenders to what appears to be indisputable evidence. Only Tommaso, Anna's father, who found the corpse, believes she could not have committed suicide: too much vitality, too much passion, too much curiosity. Ten years later, Anna's 13-year-old son convinces his grandfather, never resigned, to investigate. Young Tommaso, who bears the same name as his ancestor, is worried about his father, engulfed in a silent depression, and believes he can ease his pain by nailing the murderer. Not only that: he has to succeed before they mix up his mother's bones (as is customary after ten years), to find evidence since an autopsy has never been performed. Even Vito Prestia, deputy superintendent, never believed the suicide thesis, and has the case reopened. From there, events become entangled, and in so much gnommero (as Gadda would say) an unpredictable and disconcerting truth emerges that shakes up the cards and leaves young Tommaso facing an intolerable reality. With Ovunque giaguari Tommaso Pagano writes, more than a detective story, a family novel, a Sicilian novel, mixing the astonished gaze of young Tommaso with the disenchanted one of his grandfather. Behind this unusual pair of autonomous ‘investigators’ there is a city, Syracuse, grim with spectral lights, there is a society, there are shady dealings, and there is above all a diffuse melancholy that affects the landscape, the heat, the jungle of evil.