“That’s the sea,” said Montalbano.
Mimi looked at him perplexed, struggling to take his eyes off the screen.
“What is?”
“That continuous, rythmic sound that you hear. It’s not some sort of rustling in the background. It’s the sound the sea makes when it’s a little rough.The house they’re in must be right on the seashore, like mine.”
This time Mimi’s look was one of admiration.
“What a sharp ear you’ve got, Salvo! If that’s the sea we hear, then I know where they shot this video.”
The inspector leaned forward, grabbed the remote control, and rewound the tape.
“What are you doing?” Augello protested. “Aren’t we going to keep watching? I told you I only saw parts of it!”
“You can watch the whole thing when you’ve been a good boy. In the meantime, could you give me a synopsis of what you did manage to see?”
“Well, it continues with the breasts, navel, tummy, mound of Venus, thighs, legs, feet. Then she rolls over and he redoes her whole body from behind. Finally she turns over on her back again, lies down more comfortably, puts a pillow under her buttocks and spreads her legs just enough so the camera can—”
“Okay, okay,” Montalbano interrupted. “So nothing else happens? Do we never see the man?”
“No. And nothing else happens. That’s why I said it wasn’t pornographic.”
“It’s not?”
“No. That sequence is a love poem.”
Mimi was right, and Montalbano made no reply.
“Care to introduce me to this lady?” he asked.
“With great pleasure. Her name is Vanya Titulescu, thirty-one years old, Romanian.”
“A refugee?”
“Not at all. Her father was minister of health in Romania. She herself has a degree in medicine, but she doesn’t practice here. Her future husband, already a celebrity in his field, was invited to Bucharest to give a series of lectures. They fell in love, or at least, he fell in love with her, brought her back to Italy, and married her. Even though he’s twenty years her senior. But the girl jumped at the opportunity.”
“How long have they been married?”
“Five years.”
“Are you going to tell me who the husband is? Or do you plan to tell the story in installments?”
“Doctor and Professor Eugenio Ignazio Ingro, the transplant magician.”
A famous name. He was often in the papers, made television appearances. Montalbano tried to call him to mind, saw a hazy image of a tall, elegant man of few words. He really was considered a surgeon with magic hands, in demand all over Europe. He also had a clinic of his own in Montelusa, where he’d been born and still lived.
“Do they have any children?”
“No.”
“Excuse me, Mimi, but did you gather all this information this morning after watching the tape?”
Mimi smiled.
“No, I informed myself after I became convinced she was the woman in the letters. The tape was only a confirmation.”
“What else do you know?”
“That around here, in our area—more specifically, between Vigata and Santoli—they have a villa by the sea, with a small, private beach. And I’m sure that’s where they shot the video. They must have taken advantage when the husband was traveling abroad.”
“Is he jealous?”
“Yes, but not excessively so. But that’s probably also because her infidelity didn’t spark any rumors, not that I know of, at least. She and Sanfilippo were very good at not letting anything about their affair leak out.”
“Let me ask you a more specific question, Mimi. Is Dr. Ingro the kind of person who would be capable of killing his wife’s lover, or having him killed, if he discovered she was being unfaithful?”
“Why do you ask me? That’s the kind of question you should ask Ingrid, who’s her friend. Speaking of which, when are you going to see her?”
“We’d planned to meet tonight, but I had to postpone.”
“Ah, that’s right, you mentioned something important, something we’re supposed to do at nightfall. What’s this about?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. The cassette you should leave here, with me.”
“You want to show it to Ingrid?”
“Of course. So, to wrap things up temporarily, what’s your take on the murder of Nene Sanfilippo?”
“What do you think, Salvo? They don’t come any clearer than this. Dr. Ingro, somehow or other, gets wise to their affair, and has the kid offed.”
