So perhaps you’d better start thinking of some doubts you may have.
Come to think of it, when Vanna was drinking her caffelatte, she told you some things about her supposed aunt that she had no reason whatsoever to tell you. But she said them anyway.
A few examples:
1) That the aunt’s husband, Arturo, was very rich.
2) That he had bought the Vanna and then left it to his wife in his will.
3) That he was always at sea (like his widow, after him).
4) That nobody knew how he had earned all the money he had. In other words, with this last statement, Vanna left the field open to every supposition, even the worst.
Why did she want to instill such doubt in you? She could have avoided it. But she didn’t.
Think about it.
Affectionately yours,
Since it was still too early to go to bed, he sat down in the armchair and turned on the TV. On the Free Channel, his friend, the newsman Nicolò Zito, was interviewing a man of about fifty with a beard, who turned out to be Captain Zurlo, chief navigation officer of the port.
Naturally, they were talking about the topic of the day, the Vanna’s discovery of the stray dinghy. Zito’s questions were, as always, quite intelligent.
“Captain Zurlo, how far from the mouth of the port did the people on the Vanna say they were when they spotted the dinghy?”
“A little more than an Italian mile.”
“Why do you say ‘Italian’ mile? Aren’t all nautical miles the same?”
“Theoretically speaking, a nautical mile, being one sixty-sixth of one degree of a meridian, should correspond to 1.852 meters. But in fact, in Italy it is equal to 1.851 meters and 85 centimeters; in England it’s 1.853 meters and 18 centimeters; in the U.S. it’s-”
“Why these differences?”
“To make life complicated for us.”
“I know exactly what you mean. Therefore we can say that the dinghy with the corpse inside was very close to the port.”
“Quite so.”
“Could you explain for us why the Vanna, after taking the dinghy and corpse on board, took so many hours to enter the port? Was it because of the storm?”
The captain smiled.
“It wasn’t actually a sea storm, far from it.”
“No? Then what was it?”
“Technically speaking, it’s called a strong gale, corresponding to winds of force 9 on the Beaufort scale.”
“In plain language?”
“It means that the wind is approaching forty-five knots and waves can reach a height of twenty feet. The Vanna was in danger of crashing against the eastern cape. Since the auxiliary engine wasn’t working very well, they had to go back out to the open sea and find a more favorable tack.”
“How come the dinghy hadn’t capsized?”
“Chance, or maybe it was caught between two conflicting currents.”
“Here comes the most important question. In your opinion, with your many years of experience, was the dinghy being carried away from the port by the currents, or was it heading towards the port, also on the currents?”
Montalbano pricked up his ears.
“It’s sort of hard to say with any certainty. You see, there’s always a current flowing out of the port, but it’s also true that, given the weather conditions, this permanent current was nullified, so to speak, by the stronger currents coming in from the southeast.”
“But what’s your personal opinion?”
“I wouldn’t want to be held to this in an official report, but I’d say the dinghy was probably being carried by the outward current.”
“So it had come from inside the harbor?”
“What do you mean by ‘inside’?”
“The central wharf, for example.”
“No, if the dinghy had started there, it would have ended up against the eastern cape.”
“So where did it come from, in your opinion?”
“Probably from a point much closer to the mouth of the harbor.”
“Thank you very much, Captain.”
As the inspector lay down in bed, something was troubling him. But this did not prevent him from getting a good night’s sleep.
When he got to Vigàta just before nine o’clock the next morning, he didn’t go straight to the station but pulled up in front of the Harbor Office.
“Can I help you?” asked the usual guard.
“I’d like to speak with Lieutenant Garrufo.”
“Please ask at the information desk.”
The officer at the counter looked as if he hadn’t moved since the day before. He was in the exact same position, holding the same issue of the Settimana Enigmistica in his hand. Maybe he never went home to sleep. Maybe in the evening a sailor came in and covered him with an oilcloth, turned off the light, and closed the door behind him. The following morning, the cleaning crew would wash the oilcloth, dust the man off, and the officer would go back to work.
“I’m looking for Lieutenant Garrufo.”
“He’s not in.”
“Is there anyone here in his place?”
“Of course. Lieutenant Belladonna.”
“I’d like to-”
“Just a minute. You, if I remember correctly, are Inspector Montalbano.”
The man picked up the telephone, dialed a number, said a few words, and hung up.
“The lieutenant is waiting for you. Second floor, second door on the right.”
The door was open and the inspector instinctively poked his head inside. He was sure it was the wrong room, and so he knocked on the next door down.
“Come in.”
He opened the door and went in. The officer sitting behind the desk stood up. Montalbano realized he’d got the wrong room again. The man had the rank of captain.
“I was looking for Lieutenant Belladonna.”
“It’s the door right before this one.”
So he hadn’t been mistaken after all. Lieutenant Belladonna was a woman.
“May I come in? I’m Inspector-”
“Please come in and sit down,” she said, getting up to greet him.
The lieutenant not only lived up to her surname, she exceeded it [7]. She wasn’t only beautiful; she was a knockout. For a brief moment, Montalbano was speechless. She was a good six inches taller than him, dark, with bright, sparkling eyes, red lips in no need of lipstick, and, above all, a very pleasant manner.
“I’m entirely at your disposal,” she said.
I wish! thought the inspector.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of the corpse that was found by the people on a yacht sailing-”
“I know the whole story.”
“There’s one thing I’d like to know. When a craft wants to call at our port, does it have to give you advance notice of its arrival?”
“Of course.”
“And its time of arrival?”
“Especially.”
“Why?”
“For any number of reasons: ships maneuvering inside the harbor, lack of berths, availability of navigation officers…”
“I see. If it’s not too much trouble for you, could you tell me how far in advance the Vanna notified you that she would be calling at port here?”
“Yes, I can. Come with me.”
Following behind her, Montalbano was spellbound by the undulating motion her skirt made as she walked. They came to a vending machine.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d love some.”
Montalbano let her work the machine. He was utterly inept at such things. He always pushed the wrong buttons, and instead of coffee he got plastic-wrapped sandwiches, ice- cream cones, or candies. The coffee was good.