‘We do nothing?’
Basile tested the thawing of the ice cream by pressing a small indent with his thumb. ‘Quarrels would not last long if the fault were on one side only. It might be both are to blame, it is more likely neither is.’
‘May I speak frankly?’
Basile sighed. ‘I would prefer to have this argument done with.’
‘So would I. But we will achieve greater peace and harmony by promoting the cause of Tony Megale. I say that not because we are related, but because his father…’
‘Not his natural father,’ interrupted Basile.
‘Even so. The Megales are more established. The Curmacis are new. Agazio’s father was the first. They have no roots.’
‘The Megales have few people left here. Perhaps they are on the wane.’
‘They have a man, Pietro.’
‘Pietro is limited.’
‘But he is a man. Curmaci left only his woman and her children.’
‘I say we do nothing for now.’
Salvatore nodded. It was time to play his trump card. He pulled out a phone, and placed it on the counter, amid the droplets now falling from the sides of the ice-cream container. ‘As you know, the Finance Police have tapped Agazio’s home number. This conversation took place last night. I had it sent to me as a matter of urgency. A captain of the Finance Police is about to get a new car, thanks to this act of cooperation.’
He pressed a button, and a woman’s voice could be heard. ‘That’s Maria Itria. The man she is speaking to is Agazio.’
‘I recognize their voices, Salvatore. They are talking about his arrival… what’s incriminating about that?’
‘Wait… coming up now.’
Maria Itria: ‘ What do you want for your dinner on your first night home with your family? Something special? A spezzatino d’agghjiru. I know just the person who can get me the ingredients.’
Agazio: ‘Too fancy. And you always overspice it. A good plate of Maccarruni cu’zugu ra Crapa e ru Porcu. That’s what I prefer.’
Maria Itria: ‘Maccarruni cu’zugu ra Crapa e ru Porcu? ’
Agazio: ‘? Si. Boni! Also, it’s legal. Imagine if some policeman were listening to us now. If they had nothing better to do than to listen to us, then maybe they’d try to arrest you for killing and cooking a dormouse for your returning husband. Better cook me some pork and pasta!’
Basile raised his hands. ‘I don’t see what’s so damning about that.’
‘Capo, that was code.’
‘It may have been a joke code, Salvatore. They know the Finance Police are listening. Agazio even teases them.’
‘It was emergency code, Capo, and you know it. He sent her a warning.’
‘My ice cream is melting, Salvatore.’
‘He was telling her to flee.’
‘He was telling her eating dormice is illegal.’
‘He was trying to cover up the shocked pause she made when he asked for Maccarruni cu’zugu ra Crapa e ru Porcu. He knows about the confession and he’s trying to save her.’
‘Bring the tray of ice cream out into the cooler in the bar, Salvatore.’
Salvatore did as he was told, removing his white hat and flinging it onto the counter as he left the kitchen. He dripped the tray into the slot, and picked up a star-shaped sign on the end of a short spike, and sunk it into the green mass, muttering to himself, ‘Sickly
… sits in the stomach like a brick, tastes of…’
‘Did you just stick the mint sign into my pistachio ice cream?’ said Basile, his voice coming from directly behind Salvatore’s head.
Salvatore kept his head bent down and his voice casual. ‘Silly mistake, Capo. I must be preoccupied with other things.’ He stuck in the right sign, and turned to face his boss.
‘I want the children to taste my latest ice cream,’ said Basile. ‘Have a group of them brought here after football practice tomorrow morning. Remove their phones, and we shall keep them out of circulation for a few hours. Agazio’s son Ruggiero and Tony’s son Enrico must be among them. They are best friends anyhow, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, they are.’
‘Good. They can stay here all afternoon.’
‘You know Enrico’s aunt will panic immediately if Enrico misses his lunch. You know what Rosa is like.’
‘I know about Zia Rosa. She has overfed and coddled that child. It is hard to imagine he is really Tony Megale’s son. Old Megale could at least disown him as not his flesh and blood, but Tony must claim him as his own. That child needs some toughening up. Ruggiero, on the other hand, is like a reincarnation of his father. I see something in him.’
‘I agree that Enrico is hardly a worthy successor, but he’s young yet.’
‘Not so young he can’t start acting like a man. Perhaps it is time to give him some lessons in courage.’
‘As I say, Zia Rosa will certainly panic when Enrico vanishes for a few hours. That could be misconstrued.’
‘I told you, I know. We shall consider how the families react and draw conclusions later,’ said Basile. ‘If Maria Itria, who keeps her neighbours at a distance, were to start phoning and visiting them inquiring in worried tones about Ruggiero, that, too, might signal a bad conscience. Do not forewarn the Megales or any other family, Salvatore. Make sure the sons of several families are here tomorrow. We must be seen to be just.’
16
Milan
‘I’ll have the sea bass,’ said Magistrate Bazza. ‘And you?’
Magistrate Fossati shook his head. ‘I can never get used to the idea of fish in Milan…’ He looked at the menu without enthusiasm. ‘I’ll have the mix of cold cuts,’ he told the waiter. ‘Just water to drink.’
The waiter collected the menus and left.
‘You should try the fish.’
‘You know I’m from Livorno, Ezio. When I visit my parents’ graves, I eat fresh local fish. My mother used to make a fantastic cacciucco. Actually, I don’t usually eat at lunchtime. I’d have preferred to meet for dinner in the usual place.’
‘I wanted to meet as soon as possible,’ said Magistrate Bazza. ‘Have you got the file on the missing girl?’
‘Teresa Resca. Yes.’ Fossati glanced around the room, then handed the file to his friend.
Bazza ate breadsticks as he glanced through the pages, then handed them back.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t help.’
‘No?’
‘Definitely not organized crime. But that I can’t help is in itself an important pointer. For one, the modus operandi is needlessly complicated. From what I can see here there was a long stakeout in broad daylight, they depended on public transport and relied on a certain amount of luck. But I had my mind made up before I even looked at your file. This is not a Mafia abduction.’
‘Are you supposed to make up your mind like that before you even see the file?’ said Fossati.
‘There’s not much in that file that isn’t already in the public domain. Nothing to make me change my mind. This has nothing to do with the Ndrangheta or any other Mafia.’
‘Don’t the bastards you deal with ever reserve unpleasant surprises for you? Don’t they ever act out of character? I mean if you really knew everything about how they operate…’
‘You know how it works, Francesco. Intelligence gets you only so far. We know a hell of a lot but can’t act upon it. The Northern League and Berlusconi have cut our funding. Did you know that my colleagues in Calabria have to wash their own cars? And they can get fined for insubordination if they don’t. Then that creep Maroni with his pervert’s moustache and red glasses comes on TV and says his Ministry has done more to combat…’
‘Aw, don’t start that conversation again, Ezio,’ said Fossati. ‘I’m here about the girl.’
‘It’s not organized crime. That’s not where you should be looking. I would have heard a whisper. I spent the morning with a team of excellent Carabinieri analysing intercepted communications over the past six months, focusing on any reference to the girl and her father. The father got mentioned twice. It’s not enough. He hasn’t written any exposes in months anyhow. It makes no sense for them to decide to silence him when he is already silent.’