‘I need a bathroom.’
‘I’ll show you where it is.’
‘I can find it myself.’
A few moments later, Montalbano heard her vomiting. He glanced at his watch,’ he still had an hour before
Emanuele Licalzi’s visit And, anyway, Mr Orthopedist from Bologna could certainly wait
She returned with an air of determination and sat back down beside Montalbano.
‘Salvo, what does the word “consent” mean to this pathologist?’
‘The same thing it means to you or me: to agree to something.’
‘But in certain cases one might appear to consent to something because there’s no chance of resistance.’
‘I know.’
‘So I ask you: couldn’t the murderer have done what he did to Michela without her wanting him to?’ ‘But there are certain details—’
‘Forget them. First of all, we don’t even know whether the killer abused a living woman or a corpse.
Anyway, he had all the time in the world to arrange things in such a way that the police would lose their heads over it’
Neither of them seemed to notice how familiar they’d become with each other.
‘You’re thinking something but not saying it’ said Anna.
‘No, I have no problem saying it’ said Montalbano. ‘At the moment everything points to Maurizio. He was last seen at nine pm. in front of the Bar Italia. Calling someone on his mobile phone.’
‘Me,’ said Anna.
The inspector literally jumped up from the bench. ‘What did he want?’
‘He was asking about Michela. I told him we’d parted shortly after seven, and that she would be stopping at the hotel before going to dinner at the Vassallos.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He hung up without even saying goodbye.’
‘That could be another point against him. He must have phoned the Vassallos next. Not finding her there, he guessed where she might be and caught up with her.’
‘At the house.’
‘No. They didn’t arrive at the house until just after midnight.’
This time it was Anna’s turn to jump.
‘A witness told me,’
Montalbano continued.
‘He recognized Maurizio?’
‘It was dark. He only saw a man and a woman get out of the Twingo and walk towards the house. Once inside, Maurizio and Michela make love. At a certain point Maurizio, who you say is a bit psycho, has an attack.’
‘Never in a million years would Michela—’
‘How did your friend react to Maurizio’s stalking?’
‘It bothered her. Sometimes she felt deeply sorry for…’
She stopped, realizing what Montalbano meant. Suddenly her face lost its freshness, and wrinkles appeared at the corners of her mouth.
‘There are, however, a few things that don’t make sense’ said Montalbano, who suffered seeing her suffer.
‘For example: would Maurizio have been capable, immediately after killing her, of coolly conceiving of stealing her clothes and bag to throw the police off the scent?’ ‘Are you kidding?’
‘The real problem isn’t finding out the details of the murder, but knowing where Michela was and what she did between the moment you left her and when the witness saw her. That’s almost five hours, a pretty long time. And now we have to go because Dr Emanuele Licalzi is coming.’
As they were getting in the car, Montalbano, like a squid, squirted a black cloud over the whole picture.
‘I’m not so sure your public opinion poll would be so unanimous on Maurizio’s innocence. One person, at least, would have serious doubts.’
‘Who?’
‘His father, Engineer Di Blasi. Otherwise he would have had us out searching for his son.’
It’s natural for you to follow every lead. Oh, I just remembered something. When Maurizio rang me to ask about Michela, I told him to call her directly on her mobile phone. He said he’d already tried, but her phone was turned off.’
In the doorway to headquarters, he practically ran into Galluzzo, who was coming out.’Back from your heroic exploit?’ ‘Yessir,’ Galluzzo said uneasily. Fazio must have told him about his morning outburst. Is Inspector Augello in his office?’ ‘No sir.’
Galluzzo’s uneasiness visibly increased.
‘And where is he? Out clubbing other strikers?’
‘He’s in the hospital’
‘Eh? What happened?’
Montalbano asked, worried.
‘Hit on the head with a stone. They gave him three stitches. But they wanted to keep him there for observation and told me to come back at eight tonight. If everything’s all right, ‘I’ll drive him home.’
The inspector’s string of curses was interrupted by Catarella.
‘Chief, Chief! First of all, Dr Latte with an s at the end called two times. He says as how you’re asposta call him poissonally back straightaway.
Then there was tree other phone calls I wrote down on dis little piece a paper.’
‘Wipe your arse with it.’
Dr Emanuele Licalzi was a diminutive man in his sixties, with gold-rimmed glasses and dressed all in grey. He looked as if he’d just been pressed, shaved and manicured. Impeccable.
‘How did you get here?’
‘You mean from the airport?
I rented a car and it took me almost three hours’
‘Have you already been to your hotel?’
‘No. I’ve got my suitcase in the car. I’ll go there afterwards’
How could he be so wrinkle-free?
‘Shall we go to the house?
We can talk in the car, that way you’ll save time’
‘As you wish, Inspector’
They took the doctor’s rented car.
‘Did one of her lovers kill her?’
He didn’t beat around the bush, this Emanuele Licalzi.
‘We can’t say yet. One thing is certain: she had repeated sexual intercourse’
The doctor didn’t flinch, but kept on driving, calm and untroubled, as if it wasn’t his wife who’d just been killed.
‘What makes you think she had a lover here?’
‘Because she had one in Bologna.’
‘Ah’
‘Yes, Michela even told me his name. Serravalle, I think. An antiquarian.’ ‘That’s rather unusual’
‘She used to tell me everything.
She really trusted me.’ ‘And did you also tell your wife everything?’ ‘Of course.’
‘An exemplary marriage’ the inspector commented ironically.
Montalbano sometimes felt irretrievably left behind by the new lifestyles. He was a traditionalist. For him, an ‘open relationship’ meant nothing more than a husband and wife who cheated on each other and even had the gall to tell each other what they did under or on top of the covers.
‘Not an exemplary marriage,’ the unflappable Dr Licalzi corrected him, ‘but a marriage of convenience.’ ‘For Michela or you?’ ‘For both of us.’ ‘Could you explain?’
‘Certainly.’ He turned right
‘Where are you going?’ the inspector asked. ‘This road won’t take you to Tre Fontane.’
‘Sorry,’ said the doctor, beginning a complex manoeuvre to turn the car round. ‘But I haven’t been down here for a year and a half, ever since I got married. Michela saw to all the construction herself; I’ve only seen photographs. Speaking of photographs, I packed a few of Michela in my suitcase. I thought they might be of some use to you.’