“Ahh, Chief! I’m so ixcited t’see you that I forgot ta tell ya that the c’mishner called looking for you. Iss rilly rilly urgint!”
“Okay, ring him up and put him through to me.”
“Hello, Montalbano? First of all, how are you?”
“Pretty well, thanks.”
“I took the liberty of calling you at home, but your . . .
the lady told me . . . and so I . . .”
“What can I do for you, sir?”
“I heard about the kidnapping. A nasty business, it seems.”
“Very nasty.”
Hyperbole always worked with the commissioner. But what was he driving at with this phone call?
“Well, here’s the thing . . . I’d like you to come back to active duty—just for the moment, of course, and assuming, also, that you’re up to . . . Sooner or later, Inspector Augello will have to go out in the field to coordinate the searches, and I haven’t got anyone to replace him in Vigata . . . Do you understand?” “Of course.”
“Excellent. So I’m officially informing you that the kidnapping investigation will be handled by Inspector Minutolo, who, being a Calabrian . . .”—What? Minutolo was from Ali, in Messina province—“. . . should know a lot about kidnappings.” Thus—strictly applying Commissioner Bonetti-Alderighi’s logic—one needed only to be Chinese to know a lot about Chinese checkers.
“Now you,” the commissioner went on, “don’t go tread-ing on other people’s turf the way you always do. I mean it. I want you only to lend support, or, at most, to carry on some minor side investigations that won’t wear you out but will converge with Minutolo’s central investigation.” “Could you give me a practical example?”
“Of what?”
“Of how I might converge with Inspector Minutolo.” He enjoyed acting like a complete idiot with the commissioner. The only problem was that the commissioner really believed he was a complete idiot. Bonetti- Alderighi sighed so loudly that Montalbano heard him. Perhaps it was better not to take the game too far.
“Sorry, sorry, I think I understand. If Inspector Minutolo’s conducting the main investigation, that would make him the Po, whereas I would be the Dora, the Riparia, or the Baltea, it makes no difference. Right?” “Right,” the commissioner said wearily. Then he hung up.
The only positive thing to come out of all this was that the investigation had been turned over to Filippo Minutolo, known as Fifi, an intelligent man with whom one could reason.
Montalbano phoned Livia to tell her he’d been called back to duty, if only in the role of Dora Riparia (or was it Baltea?). But she didn’t answer. No doubt she’d taken the car and gone to the museum or for a stroll in the Valley of the Temples, as she always did when she came to Vigata. He rang her cell phone, but it was turned off. More precisely, the recording said the person he was calling could not be reached.
And it advised him to try again later. But how can one reach somebody who can’t be reached? Just by trying again later? As a rule, the telephone people tended toward absurdity. They said, for example:
How could they possibly say such a thing? Every number that one can think of exists. If a number, even one, in the infinite sequence of numbers were missing, the entire universe would be plunged into chaos. Didn’t the telephone companies realize this?
Whatever the case, it was now time to eat, but there was no point in going back to Marinella. He wouldn’t find anything made by Adelina in the fridge or the oven. Informed that Livia was staying at the house, the housekeeper would not show up again until Livia was certifiably gone. The two women disliked each other too much.
He was getting up to go eat at the Trattoria Da Enzo when Catarella told him Inspector Minutolo was on the line.
“Any news, Fifi?”
“Nothing, Salvo. I’m calling about Fazio.”
“What’s up?”
“Could I borrow him? Because the commissioner hasn’t given me a single man for this investigation, only technicians, who just bugged the Lofaros’ phone and then left. He said I should be able to go it alone.” “Because you’re Calabrian and therefore an expert in kidnappings. That’s what he told me.”
Minutolo muttered something that didn’t sound like un-mitigated praise for his superior.
“So, can I borrow him at least until this evening?”
“If he doesn’t collapse first. Listen, don’t you think it’s strange the kidnappers haven’t made contact yet?”
“No, not at all. I once had a case, in Sardinia, where they didn’t deign to send a message until a week after the kidnapping, and then another time—”
“You see? You are an expert, after all, just as the commissioner said.”
“Go fuck yourselves, both of you!”
o o o
Montalbano disgracefully took advantage of the free time and the fact that Livia was incommunicado.
“Welcome back, Inspector! You picked the right day to come!” said Enzo.
As an exceptional treat, Enzo had made couscous with eight different kinds of fish, but only for his favorite customers. These, of course, included the inspector, who, the moment he saw the dish in front of him and inhaled its aroma, was overcome with emotion. Enzo noticed but, luckily, mis-understood.
