person.’
There was no resentment. On the contrary, she seemed slightly calmer now. The fact that the inspector hadn’t launched immediately into the matter at hand had allowed her in a sense to catch her breath. Montalbano thought it best to steer clear for a while.
‘Do you live in your parents’ house here in Vigata?’
‘Yes, Papa bought it. It’s sort of a small villa, right where Marinella begins. It’s become too big for me.’
‘The one on the right, just after the bridge?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I pass by it at least twice a day. I live in Marinella myself.’
Anna Tropeano eyed him with mild amazement What a strange sort of policeman! ‘Do you work?’
‘What do you teach?’
‘Physics.’
Montalbano looked at her with admiration. In physics, at school, he’d always been between a D and an F.
If he’d had a teacher like her in his day, he might have become another Einstein.
‘Do you know who killed her?’
Anna Tropeano jumped in her chair and looked at him imploringly: we were getting along so well, why do you want to play policeman, which is worse than playing hunting dog?
Montalbano, who understood what the woman’s eyes were saying to him, smiled and threw up his hands in a gesture of resignation, as if to say:
‘No,’ replied a firm, decisive Anna Tropeano.
‘Any suspicion?’
‘No’
‘Mrs Licalzi customarily returned to her hotel in the wee hours of the morning. I’d like to know—’
‘She was at my house. We had dinner together almost every night And if she was invited out she would come along afterwards.’
‘What did you do together?’
‘What do two women friends usually do when they see each other? We talked, we watched television, we listened to music Sometimes we did nothing at all. It was a pleasure just to know the other one was there.’
‘Did she have any male friends?’
‘Yes, a few. But things were not what they seemed. Michela was a very serious person. Seeing her so free and easy, men got the wrong impression. And they were always disappointed, without fail’
‘Was there anyone in particular who bothered her a lot?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘I’m not going to tell you.
You’ll find out soon enough.’
‘So, in short, Mrs Licalzi was faithful to her husband.’ ‘I didn’t say that.’ ‘What does that mean?’ It means what I said.’
‘Had you known each other a long time?’ ‘No.’
Montalbano looked at her, stood up, and walked over to the window. Anna, almost angrily, lit up another cigarette.
‘Peace?’ ‘Peace.’
Montalbano turned around and smiled at her. Anna smiled back. But only for an instant. Then she raised a finger like a schoolgirl, wanting to ask a question.
‘Can you tell me, if it’s not a secret, how she was killed?’
‘No. Neither the Free Channel nor Tele Vigata said anything. They only said the body had been found.’
‘I shouldn’t be telling you. But I’ll make an exception. She was suffocated.’
‘With a pillow?’
‘No, with her face pressed down against the mattress.’
Anna began to sway, the way treetops sway in strong wind. The inspector left the room and returned a moment later with a bottle of water and a glass. Anna drank as if she had just come out of the desert.
‘But what was she doing there at the house, for God’s sake?’ she asked, as if to herself.
‘Have you ever been to that house?’
‘Of course. Almost daily, with her.’
‘Did she ever sleep there?’
‘No, not that I know of.’
‘But there was a bathrobe in the bathroom, and towels and creams—’
‘I know. Michela put those things there on purpose. Whenever she went to work on the house, she ended up all covered in dust and cement. So, before leaving, she would take a shower’
Montalbano decided it was time to hit below the belt. But he felt reluctant; he didn’t want to injure her too badly.
‘She was completely naked.’
Anna looked as if a high-voltage charge had passed through her. Eyes popping out of her head, she tried to say something but couldn’t. Montalbano refilled her glass.
‘Was she … was she raped?’
‘I don’t know. The pathologist hasn’t told me yet.’
‘But why didn’t she go back to her hotel instead of going to that goddamned house?’ Anna asked herself again in despair.
‘Whoever killed her also took all her clothes, underwear and shoes.’
Anna looked at him in disbelief, as though the inspector had just told her a big lie.
‘For what reason?’
Montalbano didn’t answer.
He continued, ‘He even made off with her handbag and everything that was in it’
‘That’s a little more understandable. Michela used to keep all her jewellery in it, and she had a lot, all very valuable. If the person who suffocated her was a thief—’
‘Wait Mr Vassallo told me that when Michela didn’t show up to dinner at his place, they got worried and phoned you.’
‘That’s true. I thought she was at their house. When Michela left me, she’d said she was stopping off at the hotel to change her clothes.’
‘Speaking of which, how was she dressed?’
‘Entirely in denim — jeans and jacket — and casual shoes.’
‘She never went back to the hotel. Somebody or something made her change her mind. Did she have a mobile phone?’
‘Yes, she kept it in her bag.’
‘So it’s possible that someone phoned Mrs Licalzi as she was going back to the hotel. And that as a result of this phone call, she went out to the house.’
‘Maybe it was a trap.’
‘Set by whom? Certainly not by a thief. Have you ever heard of a burglar summoning the owner of the house he’s about to rob?’
‘Did you notice if anything was missing from the house?’
‘Her Piaget, for certain.
As for everything else, I’m not sure. I don’t know what things of value she had in the house. Everything looked to be in order, except for the bathroom, which was a mess.’
‘A mess?’
‘Yes. The pink bathrobe was thrown on the floor. She’d just finished taking a shower.’
Inspector, I find the picture you’re presenting totally unconvincing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, the idea that Michela would go to the house to meet a man and be in such a rush to go to bed with him that she would throw off her bathrobe and let it fall wherever it happened to fall.’
‘That’s plausible, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe for other women, but not Michela.’
‘Do you know somebody named Guido who called her every night from Bologna?’
He’d fired blindly, but hit the mark. Anna Tropeano looked away, embarrassed.
‘You said a few minutes ago that Mrs Licalzi was faithful,’ he continued.
‘Yes.’
‘Faithful to her one infidelity?’ Anna nodded yes.
‘Could you tell me his name? You see, you’ll be doing me a favour. It’ll save me time. Because, don’t worry, I’ll find out eventually anyway. Well?’
‘His name is Guido Serravalle. He’s an antique dealer. I don’t know his telephone number or address.’
‘Thanks, that’s good enough. Her husband will be here around midday. Would you like to see him?’
‘Me? Why? I don’t even know him.’
The inspector didn’t need to ask any more questions. Anna went on talking of her own accord.
‘Michela married Dr Licalzi two and a half years ago. It was her idea to come to Sicily for their honeymoon. But that’s not when we met. That happened later, when she returned by herself with the intention of having a house built. I was on my way to Montelusa one day and a Twingo was coming from the opposite direction, we were both distracted, and we narrowly avoided a head-on collision. We both pulled over and got out to apologize, and took an immediate liking to each other.
Every time Michela came down after that, she always came alone.’
She was tired. Montalbano took pity on her.
‘You ve been very helpful to me. Thank you.’
‘Can I go?’
‘Of course.’
He extended his hand to her. Anna Tropeano took it and held it between both of hers.
The inspector felt a wave of heat rise up
