‘How much?’
I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’ ‘How much of a friend?’
Guido Serravalle hesitated before answering. Montalbano came to his aid. ‘An intimate friend?’ ‘Well, yes.’
‘So, what can I do for you?’
More hesitation. Apparently the inspector’s manner was throwing him off.
‘Uh, I just wanted to tell you … to make myself available. I own an antique shop in Bologna that I can close whenever I want. If you need me for anything, ‘I’ll get on a plane and come down. I wanted … I was very close to Michela.’
‘I understand. If I need you for anything, I’ll have someone ring you.’
He hung up. He hated people who made useless phone calls. What could Guido Serravalle tell him that he didn’t already know?
He headed out on foot to have lunch at the Trattoria San Calogero, where the fish was always the freshest. All of a sudden he stopped, cursing the saints. He’d forgotten that the trattoria was closed for six days for kitchen renovations. He went back, got in his car, and drove towards Marinella. Just past the bridge, he noticed the house that he now knew belonged to Anna Tropeano. The urge got the better of him and he pulled up, stopped the car and got out.
It was a two-storey house, very well maintained, with a little garden all around. He approached the gate and pressed the button on the intercom.
‘Who is it?’
‘Inspector Montalbano. Am I disturbing you?’ ‘No, please come in.’
The gate opened, and at the same time, so did the front door of the house. Anna had changed her clothes and recovered her normal skin tone.
‘You know something, Inspector? I was sure I would see you again before the day was over.’
SEVEN
‘Were you eating lunch?’
‘No, I’m not hungry. And anyway, all alone like this … Michela used to come and eat here almost every day. She hardly ever had lunch at the hotel’
‘May I make a suggestion?’
‘Come inside, in the meantime.’
‘Would you like to come to my house? It’s right here, just a stone’s throw away.’
‘Maybe your wife doesn’t like surprise visitors…’ ‘I live alone.’
Anna Tropeano didn’t have to think twice about it. ‘I’ll meet you in your car.’
They rode in silence: Montalbano still surprised at having invited her, Anna clearly amazed with herself for having accepted.
Saturday was the day Adelina, the. housekeeper, customarily devoted to a fastidious clean-up.of the whole house. Seeing it so spick and span, Montalbano took comfort. Once on a Saturday he’d invited a married couple over, before Adelina had been. In the end, his friend’s wife, just to set the table, had to clear away the mountain of dirty socks and underwear he’d left there for the housekeeper to wash.
As if she were already long familiar with the house, Anna went directly to the veranda, sat down on the bench, and looked out at the sea a short distance away. Montalbano set a folding table and an ashtray in front of her and went into the kitchen. Adelina had left him a large serving of haddock; in the refrigerator he found a sauce of anchovies and vinegar to add to it
He went back out on the veranda. Anna was smoking and seemed more and more relaxed with each passing minute.
It’s so beautiful here.’
‘Listen, would you like a little baked haddock?’
Inspector, please don’t be offended, but my stomach’s in a knot Let’s do this: while you’re eating, I’ll have a glass of wine.’
Half an hour later, the inspector had gobbled up the “triple serving of haddock and Anna had knocked back two glasses of wine.
‘This is really good,’ said Anna, refilling her glass.
‘My father makes it … used to make it Would you like some coffee?’
‘I won’t turn down a coffee.’
Hie inspector opened a can of Yaucono, prepared the napoletona, and put it on the gas burner. He returned to the veranda.
‘Please take this bottle away from me or I’ll drink the whole thing.’ said Anna.
Montalbano complied. The coffee was ready. He served it. Anna drank, savouring it in little sips.
‘This is delicious. So strong. Where do you buy it?’
‘I don’t. A friend sends me a tin now and then from Puerto Rico.’
Anna pushed the cup away and lit her twentieth cigarette.
‘What do you have to tell me?’ ‘There are some new developments.’ ‘What?’
‘Maurizio Di Blasi.’
‘You see? I didn’t give you his name this morning because I knew you’d find it out with ease. He was the laughing stock of the whole town.’
Tell head over heels for her?’
‘Worse. Michela had become an obsession for him. I don’t know if anyone told you, but Maurizio isn’t right in the head. He’s on the borderline between normal and mentally unstable. You know, there were two episodes where…’
‘Tell me about them.’
‘Once Michela and I went but to eat at a restaurant. A little while later Maurizio arrived He said hi and sat down at the table next to ours. But he ate very little and just stared at Michela the whole time. Then he suddenly started drooling and I nearly threw up. He was really drooling, believe me; he had a string of saliva hanging out of the side of his mouth. We had to leave.’ ‘And the other episode?’
‘I’d gone up to the house to give Michela a hand. At the end of the day, she went to take a shower and afterwards came downstairs into the living room naked. It was very hot. She liked to go around the house with nothing on. Then she sat down in an armchair and we started talking. At a certain point, I heard a kind of moan coming from outside. I turned around to look. There was Maurizio, his face practically pasted against the window. Before I could say a word, he took a few steps back, bending over. And that’s when I realized he was masturbating.’
She paused a moment, looked at the sea, and sighed.
‘Poor kid,’ she said under her breath.
Montalbano, for a moment, felt moved. That astonishing, wholly feminine capacity for deep understanding, for penetrating one’s feelings, for being at once mother and lover, daughter and wife. He placed his hand on top of Anna’s and she did not pull it away.
‘Do you know he’s disappeared?’
‘Yes, I know. The same night as Michela. But…’
‘But?’
Inspector, can I speak to you frankly?’ ‘Why, what have we been doing up to now? But do me a favour, please call me Salvo’ If you call me Anna.’ ‘OK’
‘You know, you’re wrong if you think Maurizio could ever have murdered Michela.’ ‘Give me one good reason.’
‘Reason’s got nothing to do with it. You know, people don’t talk very willingly to the police. But if you, Salvo, were to conduct a poll, all of Vigata would tell you Maurizio’s not a murderer.’
‘Anna, there’s another development I haven’t mentioned.’
Anna closed her eyes. She’d intuited that what the inspector was about to tell her would be hard to say and hard to hear.
He told her, without looking her in the face, gazing out at the sea. He didn’t spare her any details.
Anna listened with her face in her hands, her elbows on the folding table. When the inspector had finished, she stood up, pale as a ghost.