“Ah, yes. Five-hundred euros.”
Strange. Big bills. Easier to carry around, but much harder to spend.
“Do you know if your client . . .” (the lawyer made the nurse-face) “. . . managed to write down the serial numbers?”
“I don’t know.”
The lawyer looked at his gold Rolex and grimaced.
“And there you have it,” he said, standing up.
o o o
They stopped to chat a moment outside the lawyer’s house.
“Poor Peruzzo,” the inspector said by way of comment.
“He tried to cover his ass immediately. He’d pinned his hopes on a quick kidnapping, so people wouldn’t find out, whereas—”
“That’s one thing that has me worried,” said Minutolo.
And he began to clarify: “From what the lawyer said, if the kidnappers immediately contacted Peruzzo—”
“—almost twelve hours before they made their first phone contact with us,” Montalbano cut in, “then they played us like puppets at the puppet theater. Because those guys were playact-ing with us. They knew from the very first moment whom they wanted to force to pay the ransom. They’ve made the two of us waste a lot of time, and they’ve made Fazio lose sleep.
They’re smart. In the final analysis, the messages they sent to the Mistretta home were scenes from an old script, more than anything else. They showed us what we wanted to see, told us what we expected to hear.” “Based on what the lawyer said,” Minutolo resumed, “the kidnappers theoretically had the situation under control less than twenty-four hours after the abduction. One call to Peruzzo, and he would turn over the money. Except that they never got back to him. Why? Had they run into trouble?
Maybe the men we have out scouring the countryside are hampering their freedom of movement? Maybe we should let up a little?”
“What are you afraid of, exactly?”
“That if those guys feel threatened, they’ll do something stupid.”
“You’re forgetting one basic thing.”
“What?”
“That the kidnappers have remained in contact with the television stations.”
“So why won’t they get in touch with Peruzzo?”
“Because they want him to stew in his own juices first,” said the inspector.
“But the more time passes, the greater their risk!”
“They’re well aware of that. And I think they also know they’ve played out the string as far as it’ll go. I’m convinced it’s only a matter of hours before Susanna goes home.” Minutolo looked befuddled.
“What! This morning you didn’t seem at all—”
“This morning the lawyer hadn’t yet spoken on television and hadn’t yet used an adverb he repeated when speaking to us. He was shrewd. He indirectly told the kidnappers to stop playing games.” “Excuse me,” said Minutolo, completely confused, “but what adverb did he use?”
“Inexplicably.”
“And what does it mean?”
“It means that he, the lawyer, knew the explanation perfectly well.”
“I haven’t understood a goddamned thing.”
“Forget it. What are you going to do now?”
“Report to the judge.”
1 6 7
13
Livia wasn’t at home. The table was set for two people, and beside her plate was a note.
He went and took a shower, then sat down in front of the television. The Free Channel was showing a debate on Susanna’s abduction, with Nicolo as moderator. Taking part in the discussion were a monsignor, three lawyers, a retired judge, and a journalist. Half an hour into the program, the debate openly turned into a kind of trial of Antonio Peruzzo.
Or, more than a trial, an out-and-out lynching. When all was said and done, nobody believed what Luna the lawyer had said. None of those present seemed convinced by the story that Peruzzo had the money ready and was only waiting to hear from the suddenly silent kidnappers. Logically speaking, it was in their interest to get their hands on the money as quickly as possible, free the girl, and disappear. The more time they wasted, the greater the risk. And so? It seemed natural to think that the person responsible for the delay in Susanna’s liberation was none
