Ever so slowly, he felt his blood, no longer petrified, begin to flow again. He managed to sit down. But he had an expression of utter astonishment on his face and didn’t want Livia to see it.
He rested his head on her shoulder and said:
“Thanks.”
At that moment he understood why, earlier, when they were lying in bed, he’d felt a gratitude for which, at first, he’d had no explanation.
1 9 6
15
When time’s mechanism jammed at three twenty-seven and forty seconds, Montalbano didn’t wake up, since he was already awake. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep. He would have liked to toss and turn in bed, letting himself be carried off by waves of thought following one upon the other like breakers in rough seas, but he was forcing himself not to disturb Livia, who’d fallen asleep almost at once, and therefore he couldn’t thrash his arms and legs about.
The alarm went off at six, the weather looked promising, and by seven-fifteen they were already on the road to Punta Raisi, the airport of Palermo. Livia drove. Along the way they spoke little or not at all. Montalbano was already far away, thinking about what he was itching to do, to determine whether the idea he’d had was an absurd fantasy or an equally wild reality. Livia was also lost in thought, worrying about what awaited her in Genoa, the backlog at work, the things left hanging because she’d suddenly needed to go to Vigata for a long stay at Salvo’s side.
Before Livia entered the boarding area, they embraced in the crowd like two teenagers in love. As he held her in his arms, Montalbano felt two conflicting emotions that had no natural right to be together, yet there they were. On the one hand he felt deep sadness that Livia was leaving. Without a doubt the house in Marinella would underscore her absence at every turn, now that he was well on his way to becoming a man of a certain age and starting to feel the weight of solitude. On the other hand he felt rather pressed, anxious for Livia to leave right away, without further delay, so that he could race back to Vigata to do what he had to do, totally free and no longer obliged to conform to her schedule or answer her questions.
Then Livia broke away, looked back at him, and headed towards the security checkpoint. Montalbano stood still. Not because he wanted to follow her with his eyes until the last moment, but because a kind of astonishment had blocked his next move, which would have been to turn his back and head for the exit. For he thought he’d glimpsed, deep in her eyes—all the way inside—a sort of glimmer, a twinkle that shouldn’t have been there. It had lasted barely an instant, then gone out at once, cloaked by the opaque veil of emotion. Yet that flash—muted, yes, but still a flash—had lasted long enough for the inspector to see it and remain bewildered by it. Want to bet that Livia, too, as they were embracing, had felt the same contradictory feelings as he? That she too felt at once bitter over their parting and anxious to get back her freedom?
At first he felt angry, then started laughing. How did the Latin saying go?
o o o
“Montalbano? This is Minutolo.”
“Hi. Were you able to get any useful information out of the girl?”
“That’s just it, Montalba. Part of the problem is that she’s still shaken by the abduction, which is logical, and part of it’s that she hasn’t slept a wink since she’s been back, and so she hasn’t been able to tell us much.” “Why hasn’t she been able to sleep?”
“Because her mother’s taken a turn for the worse and she hasn’t wanted to leave her bedside for even a minute. That’s why, when I got a call this morning telling me that Signora Mistretta had died during the night—” “—You dashed over there, very tactfully and opportunistically, to interrogate Susanna.”
“I don’t do those kinds of things, Montalba. I came here because I felt it was my duty. After all the time I’ve spent in this house—”
“—You’ve become like one of the family. Good for you.
But I still don’t understand why you called me.”
“Okay. Since the funeral will be held tomorrow morning, I would like to begin questioning Susanna the day after tomorrow. The judge is in agreement. How about you?”
“What have I got to do with it?”
“Shouldn’t you be there too?”
“I don’t know. The commissioner will decide whether I should or not. Actually, do me a favor. Give him a ring, see what his orders are, and call me back.”
o o o
“Is that you, signore? Adelina Cirrincio here.” Adelina the housekeeper! How did she already know that Livia was gone? Sense of smell? The wind? Better not to probe too deep. He might discover that everyone in town also knew what tune he hummed when sitting on the john.
“What is it, Adeli?”
“Can I come-a this aftanoon to clean house and make you somethin a eat?”
“No, Adeli, not today. Come tomorrow morning.” He needed a little time to think, alone, with nobody else around.
“D’jou decide yet abou’ ma gransson’s bappetism?” the housekeeper continued.
He didn’t hesitate one second. Thinking she was being clever with her quip about evening things out, Livia had provided him with an excellent reason to accept.
