“Because the idea of taking revenge on your uncle was first born in that room, on one of those terrible nights you spent taking care of your mother. Isn’t that so, Susanna? At first it seemed like an effect of your fatigue, your discourage-ment, your despair, but soon it became harder and harder to get that idea out of your head. And so, almost as a way to kill time, you started thinking of how you might make your ob-session a reality. You drew up a plan, night after night. And you asked your uncle to help you, because . . .”
“Before leaving, to set my conscience at rest . . .” His voice came out too solemnly, but he was unable to change it.
“To set my conscience at rest, I cannot allow those six billion lire to remain in—”
“In our hands?” Susanna finished his sentence. “The money is no longer here. We didn’t even keep the money that was lent by Mama and never given back. Uncle Carlo took care of it, with the help of a client of his, who will never talk.
It was divided up, and by now most of it has already been transferred abroad. It’s supposed to be sent anonymously to about fifty different humanitarian organizations. If you want, I can go in the house and get the list.” “Fine,” said the inspector. “I’m leaving.” He indistinctly saw the doctor and the girl stand up as well.
“Are you coming to the funeral tomorrow?” asked Susanna. “I would really like—”
“No,” said the inspector. “My only wish is that you, Susanna, do not betray my hope.”
He realized he was talking like an old man, but this time he didn’t give a damn.
“Good luck,” he said in a soft voice.
He turned his back to them, went out to his car, opened the door, turned on the ignition, and drove, but had to stop almost at once in front of the closed gate. He saw the girl come running under the now driving rain, her hair seeming to light up like fire when caught in the glare of the headlights. She opened the gate without turning around to look at him. And he, too, looked away.
o o o
On the road back to Marinella, the rain started falling in buckets. At a certain point he had to pull over because the windshield wipers couldn’t handle it. Then it stopped all at once. Entering the dining room, he realized he’d left the French door to the veranda open, and the floor had got all wet. He would have to mop it up. He turned on the outdoor light and went outside. The violent rainstorm had washed away the spiderweb. The shrub’s branches were sparkling clean and dripping wet.
2 3 5
AU T H O R ’ S N OT E
This story is invented from top to bottom, at least I hope it is.
Therefore the names of the characters and business, and the situations and events of the book, have no connection to reality.
If anyone should find some reference to real events, I can assure you this was not intentional.
A. C.
2 3 7
N OT ES
5 he couldn’t bring himself to go see the notary: In Italy a notary
7 The poor man, not knowing how much he’d bled,
16 a triumphant member of the party in power: I.e., the party called Forza Italia, the right-wing political entity created by media tycoon Silvio Berlusconi, who was still in power when this book was written.
19 “Go see if it was the traffic police!”: In Italy the jurisdiction of the Vigili Urbani (the “municipal police”), which includes the traffic police, is separate from that of the
32
38 “will be handled by Inspector Minutolo, who, being a Calabrian . . .”—What? Minutolo was from Ali, in Messina province—: Messina is in Sicily, not Calabria. The region of Calabria, across the Strait of Messina from Sicily, is notorious for its kidnappings.
38-39 “that would make him the Po, whereas I would be the Dora, the Riparia or the Baltea . . .”: The Po is a major river in the north of Italy, of which the Dora, Riparia, and Baltea are tributaries.
39 the Valley of the Temples: Probably the finest group of Ancient Greek ruins in Sicily (and there are many), the Valley of the Temples is just outside of Agrigento, the city on which the fictional Montelusa is based.
39 The number you have reached does not exist: The recorded response for nonworking
