Death in August

for Bordelli, but attractive, all in all. She soon recovered her smile and asked what the two nice policemen might want to drink.

‘No need to bother, signora, we have to leave,’ said Bordelli.

‘Won’t you have a glass of orzata? Or mint?’

‘Come on, Giovanna, can’t you see these men are in a hurry?’

‘Don’t be such a bore, Artemio! Come now, Inspector. What can I get for you?’

Bordelli looked at Piras and bit his lip.

‘An orzata would be fine,’ he said.

‘And this handsome young man, what would he like?’

‘That would be fine for me too, thank you,’ said Piras, his dark eyes staring hard at her. Signora Salvetti excused herself to prepare the drinks and walked away, swaying on her pretty clogs, followed by Piras’s analytical gaze. The three men sat back down, at a loss for words. Piras pretended to tidy his hair but was actually having a last look at Giovanna before she disappeared into the house. Salvetti noticed and felt annoyed. He crossed his legs, shaking the top one furiously, as if trying to make time speed up.

‘I really would like to get to the beach before dark,’ he said, seeming a bit on edge. Piras was looking at him harshly, as if wanting to rearrange his face. Bordelli couldn’t stand the tension any longer and got up out of his chair.

‘Signor Salvetti, we’re going to go. Please give our regards to your wife.’

Salvetti was already standing, pleased to put an end to the encounter and particularly pleased to be rid of this Sardinian who was undressing his wife with his eyes. But Giovanna reappeared in the distance with a tray full of glasses and bottles. The husband sighed and fell back into his chair, resigned. As the woman approached, smiling, they all heard the clanging of an iron gate and then saw the two little boys appear on the lawn with their bicycles, excited and sweaty. They rode up to the arbour and skidded on the grass when they stopped.

‘Papa, papa! Can we go and drive in the garage?’

Salvetti raised a hand to shield the sun from his eyes.

‘Before anything else you must say hello to these gentlemen,’ he said.

‘Hello … Can we go now?’

‘All right, but be careful.’

The boys turned their bikes round and sped away, pedalling madly. Signora Giovanna poured the orzata into the glasses and smiled at Bordelli.

‘They’re going to play in the car … You’ve removed the keys, dear, haven’t you?’

‘What a question!’

Giovanni handed the two policemen and her husband their respective glasses, then served herself some mint and sat down with the sun directly on her face, not wanting to miss a single ray. She started talking about how much she had always loved the sea, from childhood.

‘I assure you, Inspector, when we come here I have a better appetite, I digest better, sleep better, breathe better — in short, I do everything better, ev-ery-thing … Don’t I, Artemio?’ She squeezed her knees together and giggled in a way that her husband found irritating.

‘Please, Giovanna …’

‘Why, what did I say?’ and she laughed again, slyly, hiding behind her glass of mint. Bordelli couldn’t wait to be liberated, and he finished his milky orzata in one long draught that bordered on the impolite. He glanced at Piras, hoping he would do the same. His assistant got the message and drank hastily, darting lightning-quick glances at Signora Giovanna’s legs, her fancy gold-rimmed clogs, and her naked, sunburnt, peeling shoulders. Salvetti, if he could have, would have killed him.

Signora Giovanna kept on talking, saying how much she adored the hot sand, how wonderful it was to lie and roast in the sun, how much she loved to take the rowing boat out to sea so she could finally take off her bathing suit and get some sun on her breasts and bottom. She had a beautiful smile, did Salvetti’s wife. Bordelli pictured her naked on the boat, covered head to toe in tanning oil, breasts in the sunlight, and at the same time he pictured people who had nothing, who toiled all day in order to eat just a little, who didn’t even know that lotions to prevent sunburn existed. Clenching his teeth, he rose with a sigh.

‘We really must go, thank you so much,’ he said. Salvetti didn’t wait for him to say it twice, but shot up like a spring to show them out of his territory. Signora Giovanna beamed a panoramic smile and, remaining seated, offered her hand to the policemen.

‘Well, see you soon, Inspector. Ciao, young man.’

Piras and Bordelli politely said goodbye and headed out across the lawn, struggling to keep pace with Salvetti, who was practically running. Piras stared at the Milanese’s neck with a disagreeable look on his face. At the gate, the three men very quickly shook hands. Bordelli and Piras were about to leave when Giacomo, Salvetti’s son, came running from the garage.

‘Papa, papa, the car’s been scratched!’ he cried with the proud intonation of someone delivering bad news. Salvetti’s eyes opened wide and he turned round abruptly, losing his balance, and would have fallen had Piras not caught hold of his arm.

‘What do you mean, “scratched?”‘ he yelled, brusquely yanking his arm out of the Sardinian’s grip.

‘We didn’t do it, it was already there! It was already there!’ Giacomo screamed cheerfully, before running back to the garage. At the far end of the garden, Signora Giovanna waved her arm to say goodbye again to the policemen, wondering why they were lingering at the gate. Salvetti, meanwhile, had disappeared into the garage, and Bordelli didn’t know whether to leave or to wait for him. He leaned against a gatepost and looked at his watch. The sweat was flowing down his back. It seemed the afternoon would never end.

At last Salvetti emerged from the garage. He looked quite upset.

‘Jesus bloody Christ, is that any way to act?! That scrape’s going to cost me a good two hundred thousand! The least they could have done is tell me!’

Bordelli threw up his hands.

‘Well, we’ll be off now,’ he said, ready to flee. For his part Piras had taken a step forward and was staring at Salvetti, who was gesticulating and shaking his head as he approached. The Milanese seemed angry and was talking to himself.

‘Is that any way to act? La madonna! They could have told me at least, dammit! Is that any way to act?’

Piras waited until Salvetti was beside him, and then asked:

‘Who are you talking about?’

Bordelli wasn’t expecting this sort of question. It actually seemed a bit intrusive on Piras’s part. But the Sardinian looked so serious that the inspector let him continue. Salvetti had stopped and was scratching his cheek and staring into space.

‘What pricks!’ he added.

Piras persisted.

‘Who are you talking about?’ he asked, eyes fixed on Salvetti.

‘Who? Why, those wretched Morozzi brothers, damn it all!’

Bordelli came away from the gate and back into the garden.

‘The Morozzi brothers?’ he said.

Salvetti was fuming.

‘I’ll never let them borrow it again, so help me God!’ he said, shaking his hands wildly in the air.

‘I’m sorry, but when did you lend them your car?’ Bordelli asked. Salvetti looked at him as if he’d just realised he was there.

‘What did you say?’

‘Your car … when did you lend it to the Morozzis?’

‘How should I know! They wanted to go for a drive in the hills, the show-offs! So much for trusting your friends!.. Two hundred thousand that scrape’s going to cost me! The cunts! Have you any idea how much a car like that costs?’

Piras gestured towards the garage, where one could still hear the sounds of the two little boys pretending they were driving.

‘Could I see it?’ he asked. Salvetti ignored him and walked in the direction of his wife, cupping his hands