The title of the crime novel Quartet refers not only to the fourth Commissario Di Bernardo volume. Among the countless works of chamber music — from trios and quintets to octets — that I have had in my repertoire during my career as a violinist, there are, surprisingly, hardly any string quartets.

So why not try one in literary form?

Easier said than done; the ideas came sluggishly, and the story refused to “take off.” Until, in the summer of 2025, I received an invitation to give a concert near Lecce, the home region of Commissario Di Bernardo. The programme: Clarinet Quintets by Mozart, K. 581, and Brahms, Op. 115. And, as luck would have it, this very programme proved to be a blessing for the future crime novel. True, it was not a quartet but a quintet — yet from the very first rehearsal with the four musicians, new ideas began to emerge.

In a certain sense, it was even better to be five. I spontaneously heard Commissario Di Bernardo say: “Four musicians, one dead man — a quartet. There was one too many.” One too many — and in the end, just right. For very soon I sensed that, among the many pieces appearing in this novel, Brahms’s profound quintet Op. 115 would take on the musically decisive role. And why shouldn’t a clarinettist be allowed to join in now and then? After all, one ought occasionally to allow a chamber-music ensemble to grow beyond itself.

As a violinist who was quite literally born into the world of music, I can easily imagine how close the emotional bonds within a quartet can be. What I had in mind for the fictional Arcimboldo Quartet in the crime novel, however, was this: “United in music, torn apart in life.”

And a murder had to happen.

From then on, things moved quickly. The characters emerged one after another in nature: in a forgotten forest at home in Ticino, and in a park in Munich. And all the while, the thought of the quartet’s ironclad cohesion remained present — despite, or perhaps precisely because of, the shattering past and the indelible traces it had left behind.

Engaging with quartets without having played them myself was a fascinating experience. The repertoire of the “Arcimboldo” grew rapidly: Mozart and Brahms were joined by Verdi, Beethoven, Schubert, Barber, and Dvo?ák. Along the way, I could not resist allowing Lorenzo Verro, the first violinist of the “Arcimboldo” Quartet, to play solo works as well. The programme Vive L’Espagne, featuring De Falla, Sarasate, Granados, Albéniz, and Viardot, which Verro records on CD, was my favourite repertoire of the past concert season.

As a musician, I have experienced the most beautiful moments of enchantment through the music of Johannes Brahms. The magic of his works has accompanied me since early childhood: at the age of five I listened to my parents rehearsing the sonatas for violin and piano; later I admired his symphonies and passionately loved playing his trios, the piano quintet, the violin concerto, and the double concerto with cello.

My experience with Brahms’s Clarinet Quintet, Op. 115, was deeply moving. From the very first rehearsal, a different Brahms suddenly “spoke” to me — not the one I had known and loved all my life. Unlike before, I sensed the fractured warmth and muted passion in the music. The shadowed inner voices, the dense harmonies … It was surprising, and a little bewildering. Perhaps also because we, as a quintet, had never played together before and had to begin straight away with such a work. What moved us most was the fourth movement: a theme with variations that unfolds with great intensity toward a climax before, in the end, fading away quietly and resignedly. Thanks to its melancholy and inner calm, the quintet is indeed often interpreted as a “farewell work” — as though Brahms were stepping beyond the edge of this world into the greater cosmos beyond.

Taking on the voice of the second violin proved to be a special gift: I was able to immerse myself even more deeply in the sound world, again and again in dialogue with viola and cello, discovering new facets of this unearthly beautiful music.

The late-Romantic Clarinet Quintet, composed in 1891, is closely linked to Brahms’s biography. In 1890, Brahms had actually decided to withdraw from composing, believing his creative work to be complete. Yet, as so often happens in life, his plans were disrupted by an encounter: with the clarinettist of the Meiningen Court Orchestra, Richard Mühlfeld (1856–1907). Brahms was so fascinated by Mühlfeld’s warm and expressive playing that he reversed his decision to retire. Instead, he composed the Clarinet Quintet, Op. 115, which he dedicated to Mühlfeld. Several other works followed.

The premiere of the quintet took place in 1891, with the Joseph Joachim Quartet and Mühlfeld as solo clarinettist. If time travel were possible, I would wish to be beamed to that concert!

It will not surprise you, dear readers, that Dionisio, Alberto, Roberto, Federica, Anna, and the entire Questura team have by now become like good friends to me in this fourth case. And although the team — with the exception of the forensic pathologist — has remained practically unchanged since the first case, a new character has come into being in this book. Young Giulia Casavola has conquered the hearts of Di Bernardo’s team, and in the end even Del Pino’s. Like Di Bernardo himself, she comes from Puglia and has a dramatic past. I very much hope that she will finally find happiness in Rome.

In the end, crime fiction and music come together in this story. As in a quartet or quintet, the voices are revealed and concealed, placed under tension and released, interwoven with one another — and only in their interplay does the truth become audible.