“Now I’ll tell you why you got so scared when I came to your shop. You had just learned that your bosses had to kill that boy, the one you’d given the shot of sedatives to. Had to cut him down like some wild animal. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“And so you got scared. Because you’re a two-bit hood, a sleazeball, a piece of shit, but you don’t have the stuff to be an accomplice to murder. You can tell me later how you found out that the kid you were involved with was the same one they ran over with their car. Now it’s your turn to talk. But I’ll save you a little breath by telling you that I already know that you’re swimming in debt and need money, a lot of money, to pay off the loan sharks. Now go on.”
Marzilla began to talk. The two hard slaps the inspector had dealt him must have dazed him, but they also seemed to have calmed him down a bit. By this point, what was done was done.
“When the banks refused to give me any more loans, I risked losing everything I had. So I started asking the people I knew where I might get a helping hand. They gave me a name and I went to talk to the person. That’s how it started. It’s worse than being broke; I’m ruined. The guy lent me the money, but at an interest rate so high I’m ashamed to tell you. I scraped by for a while, then I couldn’t take it any longer. Then, about two months ago, this man made me an offer.”
“Tell me his name.”
Marzilla shook his head, which he kept tilted backwards. “I’m scared, Inspector. He’s liable to have me and my wife killed.”
“Okay, go on. What was this offer he made you?”
“He said he needed to help some immigrant families get back together here. Apparently their husbands had found work here, but since they were illegals, they couldn’t bring their wives and children over. In exchange for my help, he would reduce some of the interest I owed him.”
“A fixed percentage?”
“No, Inspector. We were supposed to discuss it each time.”
“How did he let you know when it was time to act?”
“He would phone me the day before a scheduled arrival. He would describe the people and what they were supposed to do to get taken aboard the ambulance. The first time it all went smoothly. There was an old woman with two little kids. But the second time it went the way I said, and the oldest kid rebelled.”
Marzilla stopped and heaved a deep sigh.
“You’ve got to believe me, Inspector. I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing the scene before my eyes, the woman holding him down, me with the syringe, the other kids crying, and I couldn’t fall asleep. A couple of days ago, at about ten in the morning, I went to see the man about reducing my interest. But he said this time he wasn’t reducing anything, because the deal had gone sour, the goods were damaged. That’s exactly how he put it. But before he sent me away, he said I could still make up for it, since there were some new arrivals coming. I went home feeling depressed. Then I heard on TV that a little immigrant kid had been killed by a hit-and-run driver. And I thought maybe that was what the man meant when he said the goods were damaged. Then you came to my wife’s shop, after you’d already been asking questions at the hospital, and . . . well, I realized I had to get out, whatever the price.”
Montalbano got up and went out on the veranda. The sea was barely audible, like a small child breathing. He stood there a moment, then went back inside and sat down.
“Listen. So you don’t want to give me the name of this . . . this gentleman, for lack of a better term.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, I can’t!” the medic nearly screamed.
“Okay, calm down. Don’t get upset or your nose’ll start bleeding again. I’ll make you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“You realize I can have you put in jail?”
“Yes.”
“You’d be ruined. You’d lose your job at the hospital, and your wife would have to sell the shop.”
“I understand that.”
“So, if you’ve got any brains left in your head, you only have to do one thing. Let me know the minute the guy calls you. That’s all. We’ll take care of everything else.”
“Will you keep me out of it?”
“I can’t guarantee you that. But I can try to limit the damage. I give you my word. Now get the hell out of here.”
“Thank you,” said Marzilla, standing up and heading for the door on shaky legs.
“Don’t mention it,” Montalbano replied.
He didn’t go to bed right away. He took out half a bottle of whisky and went out on the veranda to drink it. Before each swig, he raised the bottle in the air. A toast to the little warrior who had fought as long as he could, but didn’t make it.
10
Horrid, windy morning, wan sun smothered by fast-moving dirt-grey clouds. It was more than enough to top off the inspector’s already dark mood. He went in the kitchen, made coffee, drank a first demitasse, smoked a cigarette, did what he had to do, got in the shower, shaved, and put on the same clothes he’d been wearing for two days. Before going out, he went back in the kitchen with the intention of drinking another coffee but only managed to fill the demitasse halfway, because he spilled the other half on his trousers. Without warning, his hand, entirely on its own, had swerved. Cursing as if to a platoon of Turks lined up before him, he undressed, leaving his suit on a chair so that Adelina could clean and iron it. He emptied the pockets of their contents so he could move them all
