they’ll think I came to get you for an emergency. And they’ll spring right into action.”
“So?”
“Well, the guys that are spying on you won’t know that Galluzzo’s lurking nearby. In fact, I’ll send him there right now and explain the situation to him.”
“No, no, Fazio, there’s no need—”
“Lemme tell you something, Chief. This whole thing smells funny to me, and I don’t like it.”
“But do you know what they’re looking for?”
“What, you yourself don’t know, and you want
“When does the Giacomo Licco trial begin?”
“In about a week, I think.Why do you ask?”
Giacomo Licco had been arrested by Montalbano a while back. He was a Mafia lightweight, a shakedown thug for the protection racket. One day he shot at the legs of a shopkeeper who had refused to pay up. Scared to death, the shopkeeper had always maintained that it was a stranger who shot at him.The inspector, however, had found considerable evidence pointing to Giacomo Licco. The problem was that there was no telling how the trial would turn out, and Montalbano would have to testify.
“It’s possible they’re not looking for anything. Maybe it’s a warning:
“That’s also possible.”
“Hello, Adelina?”
“Yes, signore.”
“What are you doing?”
“I tryinna putta house beck in orda.”
“Have you made something to eat?”
“I do that later.”
“Do it now. I’m coming home for lunch at one.”
“Whatteva you say, sir.”
“What’d you get?”
“A coupla sole I gonna fry. An’ pasta witta broccoli to start.”
Fazio came in.
“Galluzzo’s gone to Marinella. He knows a spot where he can hide and keep an eye on your house from the sea side.”
“All right. Listen, don’t talk about this with anyone, not even Mimì.”
“Okay.”
“Have a seat. Is Augello in?”
“Yessir.”
The inspector picked up the phone.
“Catarella, tell Inspector Augello I’d like to see him.”
Mimì showed up at once.
“Yesterday I went to Fiacca,” Montalbano began,“where there was a horse race. Signora Esterman was one of the people running in it, on a horse lent to her by Severio Lo Duca. This same Lo Duca spoke to me at length. In his opinion, the whole affair is a vendetta by a certain Gerlando Gurreri, a former groom in his employ. Have you ever heard his name before?”
“Never,” Fazio and Augello said in a single voice.
“Whereas we ought to know more about him. Apparently he’s taken up with some crooks.You want to look into it, Fazio?”
“All right.”
“Are you going to tell us what Lo Duca told you, and in minute detail?” asked Mimì.
“Coming right up.”
“It’s not really such a far-fetched hypothesis” was Mimì’s comment when the inspector had finished talking.
“I feel the same way,” said Fazio.
“But if Lo Duca is right,” said Montalbano,“do you realize that the investigation ends here?”
“Why’s that?” asked Augello.
“Mimì, what Lo Duca told me, he has not told and will never tell our colleagues in Montelusa. All they have is a generic report of the theft of two horses.They don’t know that one of them was bludgeoned to death, because we haven’t told them. Besides, Signora Esterman never even filed a report with us. And Lo Duca told me explicitly that he knew we were not in contact with Montelusa on this issue. Therefore, whatever way you look at it, we have no card in hand that tells us how to proceed.”
“And so?”
“And so there are at least two things we need to do.The first is to find out more about Gerlando Gurreri. Mimì, you reproached me for believing Signora Esterman’s story without checking it out. Let’s try to check out what Lo Duca told me, starting with his clubbing Gurreri in the head. Surely he must have been treated in some hospital in Montelusa, no?”
“I get it,” said Fazio. “You want proof that Lo Duca’s story is true.”
“Right.”
“Consider it done.”
“The second thing is that there’s one element of particular importance in Lo Duca’s hypothesis. He told me that nobody actually knows, at present, which of the two horses was killed—whether it was his or Esterman’s. Lo Duca maintains this was done to make him stew in his own juices for a while. But one thing is certain, and that is that nobody really knows which horse it was. Lo Duca also told me that his horse is called Rudy. Now, if there is a photograph of this horse, and if Fazio and I could see it . . .”
“I think I may know where to find one,” said Mimì, who chuckled and then continued, “Certainly for somebody who’s supposedly lost his wits, this Gurreri, based on what Lo Duca told you, can think very clearly.”
“In what sense?”
“Well, first he kills Esterman’s horse to put Lo Duca on tenterhooks concerning his own horse’s fate, and then he phones Esterman so that Lo Duca can no longer hide from her the fact that her horse was stolen . . . To me he sounds sharp as a knife, this guy, and not like some poor brainless bastard!”
“I pointed that out to Lo Duca,” said Montalbano.
“And what’d he say?”
“He said that most probably Gurreri is being advised by some of his accomplices.”
“Hmph,” said Mimì.
10
He was about to leave to go home when the telephone rang.
“Chief ? Chief? ’At’d be the lady Esther Man for you.”
“On the phone?”
“Yessir.”
“Tell her I’m not here.”
The instant he set down the receiver, the phone rang again.
“Chief, ’at’d be summon says ’e’s Pasquale Cirribbicciò onna tiliphone.”
It must be Pasquale Cirrinciò, one of Adelina the housekeeper’s two sons, both of whom were thieves constantly in and out of jail. Montalbano was made godfather of Pasquale’s’s son at the baptism.
