“Your eyes are shining, Inspector! Got a touch of fever, by chance?”
“Yes,” he lied without hesitation.
He scarfed down two helpings. Afterwards, he shamelessly declared that a few little mullets might be a nice idea. A stroll out to the lighthouse at the end of the jetty thus became a digestive necessity.
Back at the station, he phoned Livia again. The recording repeated that the person could not be reached. Oh well.
Galluzzo came in to report on a case involving a supermarket robbery.
“Excuse me, but isn’t Inspector Augello here?”
“Yes, Chief, he’s over there.”
“Well, then go over there and tell him about it. Before he gets called into the field, as the commissioner put it.”
o o o
There was no getting around it, Susanna’s disappearance was beginning to worry him in earnest. His real fear was that the girl had been kidnapped by a sex maniac. Maybe it was best to advise Minutolo to organize a search team immediately, without waiting for a phone call that might never come.
He took the scrap of paper Mimi had given him out of his pocket and dialed the number of Susanna’s boyfriend.
“Hello, is this the Lipari home? This is Inspector Montalbano. I’d like to speak with Francesco.”
“Oh, it’s you? This is Francesco, Inspector.” There was a note of disappointment in his voice. Apparently he was hoping it would be Susanna calling.
“Listen, could you come see me?”
“When?”
“Right now, if possible.”
“Is there any news?”
This time anxiety had replaced disappointment.
“No, but I’d like to talk with you a little.”
“I’ll be right over.”
04
Francesco arrived barely ten minutes later.
“It’s pretty quick with a motorbike,” he said.
A good-looking kid, tall, well-dressed, with a clear, open gaze. But one could see that he was being eaten alive by worry.
He sat down on the edge of a chair, nerves taut.
“Were you already questioned by my colleague Minutolo?”
“I haven’t been questioned by anybody. I phoned Susanna’s father late this morning to find out if . . . but unfortunately . . .”
He stopped and looked the inspector straight in the eye.
“And this silence makes me imagine the worst.”
“Such as?”
“That maybe she’s been kidnapped by someone who wants to abuse her. And that she’s either still in his hands or else he’s already . . .”
“What makes you think this?”
“Inspector, everyone knows that Susanna’s father doesn’t have a cent. He used to be rich, but he had to sell everything.”
“Why? Did his business go bad?”
“I don’t know why. But he wasn’t a businessman. He earned a good salary and had put a lot of money aside. And I think Susanna’s mother also inherited a . . . well, I don’t know, frankly.” “Go on.”
“As I was saying, do you really think the kidnappers would be unaware of the victim’s economic situation? Would they make that kind of mistake? Come on! They know more about us than the tax collectors!” The argument made sense.
“And there’s another thing,” the kid went on. “I’ve waited for Susanna outside Tina’s place at least four or five different times. After she came out, we would head back to her house on our motorbikes. Now and then we would stop, then we’d continue on our way. When we arrived at the gate we would say goodbye and I’d go home. We always took the same route. The most direct one, which Susanna always took.
Whereas last night she took a different road, more out of the way. It’s full of holes, almost impassable. You need a four-by-four to get through there. There’s hardly any light, and it’s much longer than our usual route. I have no idea why she would go that way. But it’s an ideal place for a kidnapping.
Maybe it was a chance encounter that went bad.” The boy had a good head on his shoulders.
