“It’s mine,” she explained. “I used to spend the night here sometimes.”
“Did you talk to your mother?”
“Yes. She took it pretty well, all things considered. And Aunt Iole is already on her way to be with her. You see, Mama’s not really all there in the head. At times she’s perfectly lucid, but at other times it’s as though she were absent. When I told her about Angelo, it was as if I were talking about some acquaintance. I guess it’s better this way. Would you like some coffee?”
“No thanks. But if you’ve got a little whisky …”
“Of course. I think I’ll have some myself.” She went out, then returned carrying a tray with two glasses and an unopened bottle. “I’ll go see if there’s any ice.” “I drink it straight.” “Me, too.”
If there hadn’t happened to be a man shot to death on the terrace, it might have been the opening scene of an amorous encounter. All that was missing was the background music. Michela heaved a deep sigh, leaned her head against the back of the armchair, and closed her eyes. Montalbano decided to lower the boom.
“Your brother was killed either during or after sexual relations. Or while masturbating.”
She leapt out of her chair like a Fury.
“Imbecile! What are you saying?”
Montalbano acted as though he hadn’t heard the insult.
“What’s so surprising? Your brother was a forty-two-year-old man. You yourself, who used to see him every day, told me Angelo didn’t have any girlfriends. So let me put the question differently: Did he have any boyfriends?”
It got worse. She began to tremble all over and held out her arm, index finger pointed like a pistol at the inspector.
“You are a…a… “
“Who are you trying to cover for, Michela?” She fell back into the armchair, weeping, hands over her face.
“Angelo …my poor brother…my poor Angelo …”
Through the front door, which had been left open, they heard the sounds of people coming up the stairs.
“I have to go now,” said Montalbano. “But don’t go to bed yet. I’ll be back in a little bit, so we can continue our discussion.”
“No.”
“Listen, Michela. You can’t refuse. Your brother has been murdered, and we must—”
“I’m not refusing. I said no to the thought of your coming back without warning and asking me more questions, when I need to take a shower, take a sleeping pill, and go to bed.”
“All right. But I’m warning you, tomorrow will be a very hard day for you. Among other things, you’ll have to identify the body.”
“Oh God oh God oh God. But why?” One needed the patience of a saint with this woman. “Michela, were you absolutely certain that was your brother there when I broke open the door?”
“Absolutely certain? It was too dark. I caught a se… I thought I saw a body in the armchair and …” “Therefore you cannot confirm that it was your brother in that chair. And theoretically, I can’t either. Do you understand what I’m saying?” “Yes,” she said.
Great big tears started flowing down her face. She muttered something the inspector didn’t understand. ““What did you say?”
“Elena,” she repeated more clearly. “Who’s she?”
“A woman my brother used to …” “Why did you want to cover up for her?” “She’s married.”
“How long had they been seeing each other?” “Six months, at the most.” “Did they get along well?”
“Angelo told me they quarreled every now and then … Elena was …is very jealous.”
“Do you know all about this woman? Her husband’s name, where she lives, and so on?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.” She told him.
“What sort of relationship do you have with this Elena Sclafani?”
“I only know her by sight.”
“So you have no reason to tell her what happened to your brother?” “No.”
“Good. You can go to bed now. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning around nine-thirty.”
3
Somebody must have found the switch for the two lights that lit up the part of the terrace nearest the former laundry room. Judge Tommaseo was walking back and forth in the illuminated area, carefully avoiding the surrounding darkness. Sitting on the balustrade with lighted cigarettes in hand were two men in white smocks. They must have been ambulance workers, waiting for the go-ahead to pick up the body and take it to the morgue.
Fazio and Gallo were standing near the entrance to the room. They’d removed the door from its hinges and propped it against the wall. Montalbano saw Dr. Pasquano washing his hands, which meant he’d finished examining the body. The coroner looked angrier than usual. Maybe he’d been interrupted during a game ofbriscolaortressette,which he played every Thursday night.
