At first he felt angry, then started laughing. How did the Latin saying go? Nec tecum nec sine te. Neither with nor without you. Perfect.
o o o
“Montalbano? This is Minutolo.”
“Hi. Were you able to get any useful information out of the girl?”
“That’s just it, Montalbà. Part of the problem is that she’s still shaken by the abduction, which is logical, and part of it’s that she hasn’t slept a wink since she’s been back, and so she hasn’t been able to tell us much.” “Why hasn’t she been able to sleep?”
“Because her mother’s taken a turn for the worse and she hasn’t wanted to leave her bedside for even a minute. That’s why, when I got a call this morning telling me that Signora Mistretta had died during the night—” “—You dashed over there, very tactfully and opportunistically, to interrogate Susanna.”
“I don’t do those kinds of things, Montalbà. I came here because I felt it was my duty. After all the time I’ve spent in this house—”
“—You’ve become like one of the family. Good for you.
But I still don’t understand why you called me.”
“Okay. Since the funeral will be held tomorrow morning, I would like to begin questioning Susanna the day after tomorrow. The judge is in agreement. How about you?”
“What have I got to do with it?”
“Shouldn’t you be there too?”
“I don’t know. The commissioner will decide whether I should or not. Actually, do me a favor. Give him a ring, see what his orders are, and call me back.”
o o o
“Is that you, signore? Adelina Cirrinciò here.” Adelina the housekeeper! How did she already know that Livia was gone? Sense of smell? The wind? Better not to probe too deep. He might discover that everyone in town also knew what tune he hummed when sitting on the john.
“What is it, Adelì?”
“Can I come-a this aftanoon to clean house and make you somethin a eat?”
“No, Adelì, not today. Come tomorrow morning.” He needed a little time to think, alone, with nobody else around.
“D’jou decide yet abou’ ma gransson’s bappetism?” the housekeeper continued.
He didn’t hesitate one second. Thinking she was being clever with her quip about evening things out, Livia had provided him with an excellent reason to accept.
“I’ve decided, yes, I’ll do it.”
“Ah, Gesù, Amma so heppy!”
“Have you set the date?”
“Iss ahp to you, signore.”
“Me?”
“Yes, hit depends on when you free.”
No, it depends on when your son is free, the inspector wanted to say, since Pasquale, the child’s father, was always in and out of jail. But he merely said:
“Arrange everything yourselves, then let me know. I’ve got all the time in the world now.”
o o o
More than sit down, Francesco Lipari collapsed into the chair in front of the inspector’s desk. His face was pale and the circles under his eyes had turned a dense black, as though painted on with shoe polish. His clothes were rumpled, as if he’d slept in them. Montalbano was shocked. He would have expected the boy to be happy and relieved that Susanna had been freed.
“Are you not feeling well?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Susanna won’t speak to me.”
“Explain.”
“What’s to explain? Ever since I first heard she’d been released, I’ve called her house at least ten times. It’s always her father, her uncle, or someone else who answers the phone. Never her. And they always tell me Susanna’s busy and can’t come to the phone. Even this morning, when I heard that her mother had died—” “Where did you hear it?”
“On a local radio station. I immediately thought: It’s a good thing she got to see her again while she was still alive! And so I phoned, I wanted to be near her, but I got the same answer. She wasn’t available.” He buried his face in his hands.
“What did I do to be treated this way?”
“You? Nothing,” said Montalbano. “But you have to try to understand. The trauma of being kidnapped is tremendous and very hard to get over. Everyone who’s been through it says the same thing. It takes time.” And the Good Samaritan Montalbano fell silent, pleased with himself. All the while he was forming his own, strictly personal opinion of the matter, but preferred not to reveal it to the young man. He therefore stuck to generalities.
“But wouldn’t having someone beside her who truly loves her help her to get over the trauma?”
“You want to know something?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll make a confession. Like Susanna, I think that I, too, would want to be left alone to contemplate my wounds.”
“Wounds?”
“Yes. And not just my own, but those I’ve inflicted on others.”
The boy looked at him, utterly at sea.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Never mind.”
The Good Samaritan Montalbano wasn’t about to waste his daily dose of goodness all at once.
“Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?” he asked.
“Yes. Did you know that Peruzzo was left off the ballot of his party’s candidates?”
“No.”
“And did you know that the Customs Police have been searching his offices since yesterday afternoon? Rumor has it that they found, right off the bat, enough material to put him behind bars.” “This is the first I’ve heard of it. And so?”
“So I’ve been asking myself some questions.”
“And you want me to answer them?”
“If possible.”
“I’m willing to answer one question only, provided I can.
Make your choice.”
The boy asked his question at once. Clearly it was the first on his list.
“Do you think it was Peruzzo who put clippings instead of money in that bag?”
“Don’t you?”
Francesco attempted a smile, but didn’t succeed. He only twisted his mouth into a grimace.
“Don’t answer a question with a question,” he said.
He was sharp, this kid. Alert and clever. It was a pleasure to talk to him.
“Why shouldn’t I think it was him?” said Montalbano.
“Mr. Peruzzo, according to what we’ve learned about him, is an unscrupulous man with a penchant for dangerous gambits.
He probably sized up his situation. The essential thing, for him, was to avoid getting drawn into the case, because once he was, he could only lose. Therefore, why not take yet another risk and try to save six billion lire?” “And what if they killed Susanna?”
“He could claim, as a last resort, that he’d paid the ransom and that it was the kidnappers who hadn’t kept their word. Because there was always the chance that Susanna might recognize one of them, which would have made it necessary to eliminate her. He would have cried and wailed in front of the TV cameras, and some people would have ended up believing him.” “And would you have been one of those people, Inspector?”
“I plead the Fifth,” said Montalbano.
o o o
“Montalbano? This is Minutolo. I spoke with the commissioner.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said he didn’t want to take advantage of your courtesy.”
“Which, translated into the vernacular, means the quicker I get my ass out of the way, the better.”
“Precisely.”
“Well, my friend, what do you want me to say? I guess I’ll go back to convalescing and wish you all the best.”
“But if I need to exchange a few ideas with you, can I—”