“Well, Lollo’s body’s not upstairs. And it’s not down here, either.”
“Maybe it’s out there, outside the house!”
“Sure, we could look for it, but there’s no point.You forget that my men and I surrounded the house and carefully searched the whole area. And we didn’t stumble over Lollo’s body anywhere.”
Father Crucilla wrung his hands. The sweat was pouring down his face.
“But why would Don Balduccio set up a scene like this?”
“He wanted us as witnesses. What should I have done, in your opinion, as soon as I discovered the murder?”
“I don’t know ... Whatever you usually do. Call the forensics lab, the judge ...”
“And that would have allowed him to play the despairing grandfather, to scream that it was the new Mafia that killed his beloved grandson, whom he loved so much he would rather have seen him in jail and whom he actually succeeded in persuading to turn himself in to me. And you, a priest, were even there ... As I said, he took us for a ride. But only so far. Because in five minutes I’m going to leave and it’ll be exactly as if I’d never been here before. Balduccio’s going to have to come up with a new plan. But if you see him, give him some advice: tell him he’d better bury his grandson on the sly, without any fanfare.”
“But you ... How did you arrive at these conclusions?”
“Japichinu was a hunted animal. He was suspicious of everything and everyone. You think he would have turned his back on someone he didn’t know extremely well?”
“No.”
“Japichinu’s Kalashnikov is on his bed. Do you think he would have let himself piddle around here downstairs, unarmed, in the presence of someone he didn’t absolutely trust?”
“No.”
“And tell me another thing: were you told what course of action Lollo was supposed to take if Japichinu was arrested?”
“Yes. He was supposed to let himself be captured, too, without reacting.”
“And who gave him this order?”
“Don Balduccio himself.”
“That’s what Balduccio told you. Whereas he told Lollo something completely different.”
Father Crucilla’s throat was dry, and he set to the jug of water again.
“Why did Don Balduccio want his grandson to die?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. Maybe the kid screwed up, maybe he didn’t recognize his grandfather’s authority. You know, wars of succession don’t only happen among kings and captains of industry ...”
He stood up.
“I’m going to go. You want a lift in my car?”
“No, thanks,” the priest replied. “I’d like to stay a little longer and pray. I was very fond of him.”
“Suit yourself.”
At the door, the inspector turned around. “I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?” asked the priest, alarmed.
“In all the different conjectures you made as to who might have killed Japichinu, you didn’t once mention the bodyguard. You could have said it was Lollo Spadaro, who’d sold himself to the new Mafia. But you knew that never in a million years would Lollo betray Balduccio Sinagra. And your silence confirmed my hunch beyond the shadow of a doubt. Oh, one last thing. When you leave, don’t forget to turn off the light and lock the door. I wouldn’t want any stray dogs ... Understand?”
He went out. The night was completely dark. Before reaching his car, he stumbled over some rocks and holes in the ground. It reminded him of the Griffos’ calvary, with their killer kicking them from behind, cursing, rushing them to the place and the hour of their death.
“Amen,” he said, heart aching.
On his way back to Vigata, he became convinced that Balduccio would follow the advice he was sending him through the priest. Japichinu’s corpse would end up at the bottom of some rocky cliff. No, the grandfather knew how religious his grandson was. He would have him buried anonymously in consecrated ground. In somebody else’s coffin.
Passing through the front door to headquarters, he found things unusually quiet. Could everyone have left, even though he told them to wait for him to return? No, they were there, Mimi, Fazio, and Gallo, each seated at his desk, face gloomy as after a defeat. He called them into his office.
“I want to tell you something. Fazio must have told you what went down between me and Balduccio Sinagra. Well, do you believe me?You must believe me, because I’ve never lied to you guys before, not about anything big, at least. From the very first, I realized that Don Balduccio’s request that I arrest Japichinu, because he’d be safer in jail, didn’t make sense.”
“So why did you give it any consideration?” Augello asked polemically.
“To see what he was up to. And to thwart his plan, if I could figure out what it was. Which I did, and then I made the proper countermove.”
“Which was what?” asked Fazio this time.
