Montalbano congratulated himself for guessing right. He’d made a bet with himself that the pipsqueak who was advocating that they proceed in alphabetical order was named either Abate or Abete, since there were no names like Alvar Aalto in Sicily.
“And yours?”
“Arturo Zotta. And I’m the oldest person here!”
The inspector was right about the second one, too.
Having wended his adventure-filled way through those ten people, who seemed more like a hundred, the inspector barricaded himself in his office with Fazio and Galluzzo, leaving Catarella on guard to contain any further geriatric riots.
“But why are they all here already?”
“If you really want to know the full story, Inspector, four of the people you summoned, two husbands with their wives, showed up at eight o‘clock this morning,” Fazio explained. “What do you expect? They’re old, they don’t get enough sleep, the curiosity was eating them alive. Just think, there’s a couple out there that wasn’t supposed to be here till ten.”
“Listen, let’s agree on a plan. You’re free to ask whatever questions you think most appropriate. But there are a few that are indispensable. Write this down. First question: Did you know the Griffos before the excursion? If so, where, how, and when? If anyone says they knew the Griffos beforehand, don’t let them leave, because I want to talk to them. Second question: Where were the Griffos sitting on the bus, both on the way there and on the way back? Third question: During the excursion, did the Griffos talk to anyone? And if so, what about? Fourth question: Do you know what the Griffos did during the day they spent at Tindari? Did they meet anyone there? Did they go into anyone’s house? Any information they may have is essential. Fifth question: Did the Griffos get off the bus at any of the three extra stops made on the way back at the request of the passengers? If so, at which of the three? Did they see them get back on the bus? Sixth and final question: Do they remember seeing the Griffos after the bus returned to Vigata?”
Fazio and Galluzzo looked at each other.
“Sounds like you think something happened to the Griffos on the way back,” said Fazio.
“It’s just a conjecture. But it’s what we’re going to work with. If someone then comes out and says he saw them get off in Vigata and go quietly home, we’ll take our conjecture and stick it where the sun don’t shine. And we’ll start all over again. One important thing, however. Try not to get side-tracked; if we give these geezers too much rope, they’re likely to tell us their life stories. And another thing: when questioning couples, arrange it so that one of you gets the wife and the other the husband.”
“Why?”
“Because otherwise the one will affect what the other says, in all good faith.You two will take three apiece, I’ll take the rest. If you do as I say, with the Virgin’s blessing we’ll be done in no time.”
From the first interrogation, the inspector realized that he’d almost certainly been wrong in his prediction, and that every dialogue could easily stray into absurdity.
“We met a few minutes ago. I believe your name is Arturo Zotta, is that right?”
“Of course it’s right. Arturo Zotta, son of Giovanni Zotta. My father had a cousin who was a tinsmith, an’ people often mistook him for my father. But my father—”
“Mr. Zotta, I—”
“I also wanted to say that I’m very pleased.”
“About what?”
“‘Cause you did as I said you should do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Go by age. ‘Cause I’m the oldest of the lot, I am. I’ll be seventy-seven in three months and five days. You gotta respect the elderly.That’s what I keep tellin’ my grandchildren, who’re a nasty bunch. It’s lack of respect that’s screwin’ up the whole stinking world! You weren’t even born in Mussolini’s day. With Mussolini around, there was respect and plenty of it. And if you didn’t have no respect, wham! He’d cut your head right off. I remember —”
“Mr. Zotta, to be honest, we decided not to follow any order at all, alphabetical or—”
The old man giggled to himself, all in ee sounds.
“Was I right, eh? Was I? I‘da bet my life on it! In this place, which should be a temple of order—nosirree! They don’t give a good goddamn about order! Ass-backwards, that’s how they do things here! Anything goes! Pell-mell, harum-scarum, topsy-turvy! You like walking on your hands? That’s what I say. And then we complain when our kids take drugs and steal and kill ...”
Montalbano cursed himself. How did ever let himself get trapped by this ancient motormouth? He had to stop the avalanche. Immediately, or he would be inexorably swept away by it.
“Mr. Zotta, please, let’s not digress.”
“Wha‘?”
“Let’s not get off the subject!”
“Who’s gettin’ off the subject? You think I got up at six in the morning just to come here and talk about the first thing that comes into my head?You think I don’t got better things to do? I know I’m retired and all, but—”
“Did you know the Griffos?”
“The Griffos? Never seen ‘em before the tour. And after the tour, neither, can’t say as I met ’em even then. The name, yes. I heard ‘em call it out when the driver was calling the roll before leaving, and they said ’Present.‘We didn’t even say hello or talk. Not a peep. They just stayed real quiet and all by themselves, mindin’ their own
