“Go ahead, go ahead,” Minutolo and Montalbano said in unison.
“But there is something new, and rather serious, in my opinion, in that phone call,” Minutolo resumed.
“Right,” said Montalbano. “The kidnapper is certain that the Mistrettas know where to find six billion lire.”
“Whereas we haven’t the slightest idea.”
“But we could.”
“How?”
“By putting ourselves in the kidnappers’ shoes.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“Not in the least. What I mean is that we, too, could force the Mistrettas to take the necessary steps in the right direction, the one that leads to the possible ransom money. And those steps might clear up a whole lot of things for us.” “I don’t understand.”
“Let me sum it up for you. The kidnappers knew right from the start that the Mistrettas were not in any position to pay a ransom, and yet they kidnapped the girl anyway. Why?
Because they also knew that the Mistrettas could, if necessary, get their hands on a large sum of money. Do you agree so far?”
“Yes.”
“Mind you, the kidnappers are not the only ones who know that the Mistrettas can do this.”
“They’re not?”
“No.”
“And how do you know?”
“Fazio reported two strange phone calls to me. Have him repeat them to you.”
“And why didn’t he report them to me?”
“It must have slipped his mind,” Montalbano lied.
“Concretely speaking, what should I do?”
“Have you informed the judge of this last message?”
“Not yet. I’ll do it right now.”
He made as if to lift the receiver.
“Wait. You should suggest to him that, since the kidnappers have now made a specific request, he should put a restraining order on the assets of Mr. and Mrs. Mistretta, and then report this measure to the press.” “What would we gain from that? The Mistrettas don’t have a cent, and everybody knows it. It would be a pure formality.”
“Of course. It would be a pure formality if it remained between you, me, the judge, and the Mistrettas. But I said the measure should be made known to the public. Public opinion may be full of shit, as some maintain, but it matters. And the public will begin to wonder if it’s true that the Mistrettas know where to find the money, and if so, they’ll ask themselves why they don’t do what they need to do to get their hands on it. It’s possible the kidnappers themselves will have to tell the Mistrettas what they need to do. And something will finally come out in the open. Because, on the face of it, my friend, this doesn’t look to me like a simple kidnapping.” “What is it, then?”
“I don’t know. It gives me the impression of a billiards game, where one banks a shot off the cushion in front so that the ball will end up on the opposite side.”
“You know what I say? As soon as he recovers a little, I’m going to put the squeeze on Susanna’s father.”
“Go ahead. But keep one thing in mind. Even if, five minutes from now, we learn the truth from the Mistrettas, the judge must still proceed the way we said. With your permission, I’ll speak with the doctor as soon as he comes downstairs.
I was at his house when Fazio called. He was telling me some interesting things, and I think the conversation is worth continuing.”
At that moment Carlo Mistretta entered the room.
“Is it true they asked for six billion lire?”
“Yes,” said Minutolo.
“My poor niece!” the doctor exclaimed.
“Come, let’s go have a breath of air,” Montalbano invited him.
The doctor followed him outside as though sleepwalking.
They sat down on a bench. Montalbano saw Fazio hurry back into the living room. He was about to open his mouth when the doctor again beat him to it.
“The phone call my brother just described to me relates directly to what I was telling you at my place.”
“I’m sure it does,” said the inspector. “I think, therefore, that if you feel up to it, you need to—”
“I feel up to it. Where were we?”
“Your brother and his wife had just moved to Uruguay.”
“Oh, yes. Less than a year later, Giulia wrote a long letter to Antonio, suggesting he come join them in Uruguay. The work prospects were excellent, the country was growing fast, and Salvatore had won the esteem of
