Now, with each labored step it took, the animal sank further and further, first with its legs, then its belly, then even its chest submerged in sand.At some point he no longer felt the horse moving beneath him. It had suffocated to death in the sand.
He tried to climb down from the animal, but the sand kept him imprisoned there. He realized he was going to die in that desert. As he started to cry, a man materialized a few steps away from him, but he couldn’t make out the man’s face, again because he didn’t have his glasses.
“You know the way out of this situation,” the man said to him.
He wanted to answer him, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the sand came pouring in, threatening to suffocate him.
In a desperate attempt to draw a breath, he woke up.
He had dreamt a sort of mishmash of fantasy and things that had actually happened to him. But what did it mean that he was racing on the wrong track?
He got to the office later than usual, because he’d had to stop at the bank after finding a letter in his mailbox threatening to cut off his electricity for failure to pay the last bill. But he had arranged for the bank to pay the bills! He stood in line for almost an hour, showed the letter to a clerk, who began looking things up. It turned out that the bill had been paid on time.
“There must have been a mistake, sir.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“Don’t worry, sir, we’ll take care of it.”
For a long time he had been thinking about rewriting the Constitution. Since everybody and his dog was doing it, why couldn’t he? Article One would begin as follows:“Italy is a precarious republic founded on mistakes.”
“Ahh Chief, Chief ! F’rensics jist now sint us this invilope!”
The inspector opened it on his way to his office.
It contained a few photographs of the man found dead in Spinoccia, with related information as to age, height, color of eyes, etc....There was no mention of distinguishing marks.
There was no point in passing the photos on to Catarella and asking him to search the missing persons files for faces that might match. He was putting them back into the envelope when Mimì Augello came in. He took them back out and handed them to his second-in-command.
“You ever seen this guy?”
“Is that the dead man from Spinoccia?”
“Yes.”
Mimì put on his glasses. Montalbano squirmed uneasily in his chair.
“Never seen him before,” said Augello, laying the photos and envelope on the desk and putting the glasses back in his shirt pocket.
“Could I try them?”
“Try what?”
“The glasses.”
Augello handed them to him. Montalbano put them on, and everything suddenly looked like a blurry photograph. He took them off and gave them back to Mimì.
“I can see better with my father’s pair.”
“But you can’t ask everyone you meet with glasses if you can try them on! You simply have to go see an eye doctor! He’ll examine you and prescribe—”
“Okay, okay. I’ll go one of these days.Tell me, how is it I didn’t see you all day yesterday?”
“I spent the whole morning and afternoon looking into the business of that little boy, Angelo Verruso. Remember?”
A little boy not six years old, returning home from school, had started crying and refused to eat. Finally, after much insistence, his mother had succeeded in getting the child to tell her that his teacher had forced him into a closet and made him do “dirty things.” When the mother asked him for details, the kid said the teacher had taken his thingy out and made him touch it. A sensible woman, Signora Verruso did not believe that the teacher, a family man of about fifty, was capable of such behavior; on the other hand, neither did she want to disbelieve her son.
Since she was a friend of Beba, she spoke to her about it.And Beba, in turn, had talked to her husband, Mimì, about it.Who had then related the whole matter to Montalbano.
“How’d it go?”
“Listen, we’re better off dealing with criminals than with these little kids. It’s impossible to tell when they’re telling the truth and when they’re fibbing. And I also have to proceed with caution; I don’t want to destroy the teacher. All it takes is for a rumor to start circulating, and he’s ruined . . .”
“But what was your impression?”
“That the teacher didn’t do anything. I didn’t hear a single bad thing about him.Anyway, the closet the kid mentions is barely big enough to hold a bucket and two brooms.”
“So why, then, would the kid make up a story like that?”
“In my opinion, to get back at the teacher, who he thinks is mean to him.”
“Deliberately?”
“Are you kidding? Want to know what Angelo’s latest exploit was? He shat on a newspaper, folded it up into a little package, and slipped it into one of the drawers in the teacher’s desk.”
“So why did they name him Angelo?”
“When he was born, the parents obviously had no idea how the little imp would turn out.”
“Is he still going to school?”
“No, I advised the mother to report him sick.”
“Good idea.”
“Good morning, Inspectors,” said Fazio, coming in.
He saw the photos of the dead man.
“Can I take one of these?” he asked.“I’d like to show it around.”
“Go ahead.What did you do yesterday afternoon?”
“I kept asking around about Gurreri.”
“Did you go talk to his wife?”
“Not yet. I’ll be going later today.”
“What did you find out?”
“Chief, what Lo Duca told you is true, at least in part.”
“What part?”
“That Gurreri left his home over three months ago. All the neighbors heard him.”
“Heard what?”
“Heard him yelling at his wife, calling her a whore and a slut, and saying he was never coming back.”
“Did he say he wanted to take revenge on Lo Duca?”
“No, they didn’t hear him say that. But they also can’t swear he didn’t say it.”
“Did the neighbor lady tell you anything else?”
“No, the neighbor lady didn’t, but Don Minicuzzu did.”
“And who is Don Minicuzzu?”
“A guy who sells fruits and vegetables directly in front of where Gurreri lives and can see who goes in and out of the building.”
“And what did he tell you?”
“Chief, according to Minicuzzu, Licco has never set foot in that building. So how could he be Gurreri’s wife’s lover?”
“But does he know Licco well?”
“Does he know him well? Licco’s the one he used to pay the racket money to! And he told me something important, too. One night he was worried he hadn’t properly locked the metal shutter. So he got out of bed and went outside to check.When he was in front of his shop, the door to Gurreri’s building opens, and out comes Ciccio Bellavia, whom he knows well.”
Imagine Ciccio Bellavia not crawling out of the sewer in this affair!
“And when was this?”
“Over three months ago.”
“So our hypothesis is correct. Bellavia goes to Gurreri and offers him a deal. If his wife provides Licco with an alibi, saying she’s his mistress, Gurreri gets taken on as a permanent member of the Cuffaros. Gurreri thinks it over a bit and then accepts, putting on the show about leaving home forever because his wife is cheating on him.”
“You gotta admit, it’s a pretty good scheme,” Mimì commented. “But is Minicuzzu willing to testify?”
“Not on your life,” said Fazio.