“Any idea where?”
“Dunno. Anyway, as I was saying, Nene Sanfilippo inserts the key in the lock and, at that exact moment, somebody calls his name.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because he was shot in the face, Chief. Hearing his name called, Sanfilippo turns around and takes a few steps towards the person who called him. It must have happened very fast, mind you, because he left the key in the lock.”
“Was there a struggle?”
“Apparently not.”
“Did you look at the keys?”
“There were five keys. Two for Via Cavour: main door and apartment door. Two for his mother’s place, main door and apartment door. And the fifth is one of those ultramodern keys that locksmiths say can’t be duplicated. We don’t know what door that one was for.”
“Interesting kid, this Sanfilippo. Were there any witnesses?”
Fazio started laughing.
“Are you kidding, Chief?”
2
They were interrupted by some heated shouting in the lobby. There was decidedly a row in the making.
“Go have a look.”
Fazio went out, the voices calmed down, and a few minutes later he returned.
“There’s a man who got upset with Catarella because he wouldn’t let him in. He insists on speaking to you.”
“He can wait.”
“He seems pretty worked up, Chief.”
“Let’s hear him out.”
In came a bespectacled man of about forty, neatly dressed, with hair parted on the side and the look of a respectable clerk.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me. You’re Inspector Montalbano, aren’t you? My name is Davide Griffo and I feel mortified for having raised my voice, but I couldn’t understand what that policeman was saying to me. Is he a foreigner?”
Montalbano preferred not to answer.
“I’m listening.”
“Well, I live in Messina and work at City Hall. And I’m married. My parents live here, in Vigata, and I’m an only child. I’m very worried about them.”
“Why?”
“I phone them twice a week from Messina, every Thursday and Sunday Two nights ago, last Sunday, they didn’t pick up, and I haven’t heard from them since. Every hour’s been hell, so finally my wife suggested I get in the car and drive to Vigata.Yesterday I phoned the concierge to find out if she had the key to my parents’ apartment. She said no. So my wife said I should turn to you. She’s seen you a couple of times on TV.”
“Do you want to file a report?”
“First I’d like to get authorization to break down the door ...” His voice began to crack. “Something serious may have happened to them, Inspector.”
“All right. Fazio, get Gallo for me.”
Fazio went out and returned with his colleague.
“Gallo, please accompany this gentleman. He needs to have the door to his parents’ apartment broken down. He has no word of them since last week. Where did you say they live?”
“I hadn’t told you yet. In Via Cavour, number 44.”
Montalbano’s jaw dropped.
Gallo started coughing violently and left the room in search of a glass of water.
Davide Griffo, now pale and spooked by the effect of his words, looked around.
“What did I say?” he asked in a faint voice.
As Fazio pulled up in front of Via Cavour 44, Davide Griffo stepped out of the car and rushed inside the main door.
“Where do we start?” Fazio asked the inspector as he was locking the car.
