“They did, but they had to wait three months to get it. And, actually, given all the authorizations that were needed for it, that was pretty fast. The fact is that this time the alcohol, or whatever it was, wasn’t there anymore. And so the case was closed.”
“Tell me something. Do you know who this friend was who ate with him?”
Fazio’s eyes started to sparkle. This happened whenever he knew that his words would have a dramatic effect. He was foretasting his pleasure.
“It was …” he began.
But Montalbano, who could be a real bastard when he wanted to, decided to spoil the effect for him.
“That’s enough, I already know,” he said.
“How did you find out?” asked Fazio, between disappointment and wonder.
“Your eyes told me,” said the inspector. “It was his future brother-in-law, Angelo Pardo. Was he interrogated?”
“Of course. And he confirmed the waiter’s statement— that is, that they hadn’t drunk any wine or other alcoholic beverage at the table. In any case, for some reason or other, Angelo Pardo had his lawyer present every time he made his three depositions. And his lawyer was none other than Senator Nicotra.”
“Nicotra?!” marveled the inspector. “That’s way too big a fish for a testimony of so little importance.”
Fazio never found out whether, in uttering Nicotra’s name, he’d actually managed to get even for the disappointment of a moment before. But if anyone had asked Montalbano why he reacted so strongly to the news that Nicotra and Angelo had known one another for quite some time, the inspector would not have known what to answer.
“But where would Angelo have ever found the money to inconvenience a lawyer of Senator Nicotra’s stature?”
“It didn’t cost him a cent, Chief. Angelo’s father had been a campaigner for the senator, and they’d become friends. Their families spent time together. In fact, the senator also represented Angelo when he was accused of the abortion.”
“Anything else?”
“Yessir.”
“You going to tell me free of charge, or do I have to pay for it?” asked Montalbano when he saw that Fazio couldn’t make up his mind to go on.
“No, Chief, it’s all included in my salary.”
“Then out with it.”
“It’s something that was told me by only one person. I haven’t been able to confirm it.”
“Just tell me, for what it’s worth.”
“Apparently a year ago Angelo got into the bad habit of gambling and often lost.” “A lot?” “Lots and lots.” “Could you be more precise?” “Tens of millions of lire.” “Was he in debt?” “Apparently not.” “Where did he gamble?” “At some den in Fanara.” “You know anyone around there?” “In Fanara? No, Chief.” “Too bad.” “Why?”
“Because I would bet my family jewels that Angelo had another bank account than the one we already know about. Since it seems he didn’t have any debts, where was he getting the money he lost? Or to pay for the gifts to his girlfriend? After what you’ve just told me, I think this mysterious bank may very well be in Fanara. See what you can come up with there.”
“I’ll try.”
Fazio stood up. When he was at the door, Montalbano said in a soft voice: “Thanks.”
Fazio stopped, turned, and looked at him.
“For what? It’s all included in my salary, Chief.”
The inspector hurried back to Marinella. The salmon that Ingrid had sent to him was anxiously awaiting him.
14
It was pouring. With him getting drenched, cursing, blaspheming, the water running down his hair, into his collar, and then sliding down his back, triggering cold shudders, his sodden socks now filtering the water flowing into his shoes, but, nothing doing, the door to his house in Marinella wouldn’t open because the keys wouldn’t fit in the lock, and when they did, they wouldn’t turn. He tried four different keys, one after the other, but it was hopeless. How could he go on like this, getting soaked to the bone, unable to set foot in his own house?
He finally decided to have a look at the set of keys in his hand. To his shock, he realized they weren’t his keys. He must have mistakenly grabbed someone else’s. But where?
Then he remembered that the mistake might have happened in Boccadasse, at a bar where they made good coffee. But he was in
Boccadasse two weeks ago! How could he have been back in Vigata for two weeks without ever going into his house?
“Where are my keys?” he shouted.
It seemed as though no one could hear him, so loud was the rain drumming on the roof, on his head, on the ground, on the leaves in the trees. Then he thought he heard a woman’s voice far, far away, coming and going with the intensity of the downpour.
“Turn the corner! Turn the corner!” said the voice.
What did it mean? Whatever the case, lost as he was, he took four steps and turned the corner. He found
