will of the moment. And I wanted to kill that man, no matter what he had done to Lisetta and Mario. So I raised the rod and dealt him a blow to the nape of the neck with all my might, hoping to shatter his skull. He fell forward, revealing the scene on the bed. There were Mario and Lisetta, naked, clutching one another, in a sea of blood. They must have been making love when they were surprised by the bombs falling so close to the house, and then embraced each other like that out of fear. There was nothing more to be done for them. Something perhaps could still have been done for the man on the floor behind me, who was gasping his last. With a kick I turned him faceup. He was some flunky of Uncle Stefanos, a cheap thug. Systematically, with the iron bar, I began to beat his head to a pulp. And then I went crazy. I started running from room to room, singing. Have you ever killed anyone?'
'Yes, unfortunately.'
'You say unfortunately, which means you felt no satisfaction. What I felt was not so much satisfaction as joy. I felt happy; I sang, as I said. Then I collapsed in a chair, overwhelmed by the horror, horrified with myself. I hated myself. They had managed to turn me into a murderer, and I hadn't been able to resist. On the contrary, I was pleased to have done it. The blood inside me was infected, no matter how hard I might try to cleanse it with reason, education, culture, and whatever else you want. It was the blood of the Rizzitanos, of my grandfather and my father, of men the honest people in town preferred not to mention. Men like them, even worse than them. Then, in my delirium, a possible solution appeared. If Mario and Lisetta were to go on sleeping, then all this horror had never happened. It was a nightmare, a bad dream. And so...'
The old man couldn't go on. Montalbano was afraid he would pass out.
'Let me tell the rest. You took the two kids bodies, transported them to the cave, and set them up there.'
'Yes, but thats easy to say. I had to carry them inside one by one. I was exhausted, and literally soaked with blood.'
'The second cave, the one you put the bodies in, was it also used to store black-market goods?'
'No. My father had closed up the entrance to it with a dry wall of stones. I removed the stones and later put them back in place when I was done. I used flashlights to help me see; we had quite a few at our country house. Now I had to find the symbols of sleep, the ones from the legend. The jug and the bowl with coins were easy enough, but what about the dog? Well, the previous Christmas in Vig'
'I know the whole story,' said Montalbano. 'When the dog was sold at auction, somebody in your family bought it.'
'My father did. But since Mama didn't like it, we put it in a storeroom in the basement. I remembered it. When I had done everything and closed up the cave with the great hinged boulder, it was pitch-dark out and I felt almost at peace. Lisetta and Mario really were asleep. Nothing had happened. And so the corpse I found upstairs on my return no longer frightened me. It didnt exist; it was the fruit of my war-ravaged imagination. Then utter pandemonium broke out. The house began to shake from bombs exploding just a few yards away, but I couldn't hear any airplanes. They were shelling from the ships at sea. I raced outside, afraid I might get buried under the rubble if the house were hit. On the horizon it looked as if day were breaking. What was all that light? I wondered. Suddenly, behind me the house exploded, literally, and I was struck in the head with a piece of debris and passed out. When I reopened my eyes, the light on the horizon was even brighter, and I could hear a continuous, distant rumble. I managed to drag myself to the road and started waving and gesturing, but none of the passing vehicles would stop. They were all fleeing. I was in danger of being run over by a truck. Finally, one stopped, and an Italian soldier hoisted me aboard. From what they were saying, I gathered that the American invasion had begun. I begged them to take me with them, wherever they were going. And they did. What happened to me after that I doubt is of any interest to you. I'm very tired.'
'Would you like to lie down awhile?'
Montalbano had to carry him bodily, then helped him to undress.
'Please forgive me,' he said, 'for awakening the sleepers and bringing you back to reality.'
'It had to happen.'
'Your friend Burgio, who was a big help to me, would love to see you again.'
'No, not me. And if you have no objection, you should act as if I never came.'
'No, of course not, I've no objection.'
'Do you want anything else from me?'
'Nothing. Only to say that I'm deeply grateful to you for answering my call.'
They had nothing more to say to each other. The old man looked at his watch so closely he appeared to be sticking it in his eye.
'Let's do this. Let me sleep for an hour or so, then wake me up, call me a taxi, and I'll go back to Punta Ri.'
Montalbano drew the shades over the window and headed for the door.
'Just a minute, Inspector.'
From the wallet he had laid on the night table the old man took out a photograph and handed it to Montalbano.
'This is my youngest granddaughter, seventeen years old. Her names Lisetta.'
Montalbano went over to a shaft of light. Except for the jeans she was wearing and the motor scooter she was leaning against, this Lisetta was identical to the other, a perfect likeness. He handed the photo back to Rizzitano.
'Excuse me again, but could you bring me another glass of water?'
...
Seated on the veranda, Montalbano answered the questions his policemans mind was asking. The assassin's body, assuming they'd found it under the rubble, certainly could never have been identified. Lillo's parents had either believed that those remains belonged to their son, or that, according to the peasants story, he'd been picked up by the soldiers as he was dying. And since they never heard from him again, he must surely have died somewhere. For Stefano Moscato, however, those remains belonged to his triggerman, who after finishing his work, that is, after killing Lisetta, Mario, and Lillo and disposing of their bodies, had returned to the house to steal a few things but was
