The Age Of Doubt

“Where shall we meet?”

“Listen, there’s a bar in Marinella-”

“No, I don’t feel like it.”

“Like what?”

“Like meeting you there. I don’t like bars.”

“Then I guess we could-”

“Why don’t you tell me how to get to your house?” she cut him off.

In fact it was the easiest thing to do, and she seemed to be a practical girl. He explained to her how to get there.

“Then let’s do this. I’ll come to your place, and while we’re having an aperitif we can decide where to go out to dinner.

“Yes, sir.”

***

Laura showed up half an hour later. She’d changed out of her uniform and was wearing a skirt down to her knees, a white blouse, and a sort of heavy vest. She had let her hair down, and it fell onto her shoulders. She was beautiful, vivacious, and very likeable.

“It’s so nice here!”

Montalbano opened the French door onto the veranda, and she went outside, enchanted.

“What’ll you have?” he asked her.

“A little white wine, if you’ve got any.”

The inspector always kept a bottle in the fridge. He grabbed it and replaced it with another.

“Can we sit out here?”

“Absolutely.”

They drank their wine sitting beside each other on the bench. But it was chilly, and when they had finished their glasses they went back inside.

“Where are you going to take me?”

“There are two possibilities. We could go to a restaurant outside of Montereale, which means we’d need to take the car, or we could stay here.”

She looked hesitant, and Montalbano misread her.

“You don’t know me very well,” he said, “but I can assure you I-”

Laura burst into laughter that sounded like so many pearls falling to the ground.

“Oh, I certainly wasn’t thinking you wanted to…”

He felt a twinge of melancholy. Did she think him so old that he no longer had any desire? Luckily, however, she continued:

“… but I must confess I’m really hungry, because I skipped lunch today.”

“Come with me.”

He led her into the kitchen, opened the oven, and took out the casserole. She smelled it and sighed, closing her eyes for a second.

“What do you say?” asked Montalbano. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

“Let’s stay here.”

They got to know each other a little better. She told him she’d chosen a military career because her father was an admiral, now on the verge of retirement. She’d studied at the Accademia di Livorno, had sailed on the Vespucci, and had a boyfriend named Gianni who was also a naval officer and was serving on a battle cruiser. She was thirty-three years old, had been in Vigata for barely three months, and hadn’t had time yet to make any friends. This was the first time since moving to Vigata that she was eating with a man.

Montalbano, for his part, talked at length about Livia. Laura even managed to eat the nervetti. She had a discerning palate.

“Would you like some coffee, or a whisky?” he asked when they were done.

“Actually, do you have any more of this wine?”

***

“Have you managed to identify the dead body?” Laura asked at a certain point.

“No, not yet. I think it’s going to take a while, and it won’t be easy.”

“I heard he died from getting his face smashed in.”

“No, they did that to him afterwards. He was poisoned.”

“So…” she began.

Then she stopped.

“No, never mind,” she continued. “I had this idea, but it’s too silly to mention it to you… I’ve heard about you, you know. They say you’re not only good, but exceptional in your field.”

Montalbano blushed. And she dropped another string of pearls.

“That’s fantastic! A man still capable of blushing!”

“Come on, stop it. Tell me your idea.”

“I thought it might have been something like a robbery gone wrong. The man could have been mugged while strolling along the jetty. And when he tried to defend himself, the attacker picked up a stone and beat him to death. So he put him in a dinghy… There are so many docked around there… Have you checked to see who the dinghy belongs to?”

By some miracle Montalbano managed not to blush again. He hadn’t thought of this. When, in fact, it should have been his first concern. His brain was misfiring, no question.

“No, because Forensics believes the dinghy had never been used before they put the body in it.”

Laura screwed up her face.

“Well, I would do a little check just the same.”

Better change the subject or risk looking bad.

“Maybe you can answer a question for me. As far as you know, are there a lot of rich people who stay out at sea all year long, going from port to port and doing nothing else?”

“Are you referring to Livia Giovannini?”

“Do you know her?”

“The Vanna called at port here three days after I started working in Vigata. There was a bureaucratic matter that had to be settled, and so I went aboard. That’s how we met. They were coming from Tangiers, but they had left some months before that from Alexanderbaai.”

Montalbano balked.

“Where’s that?”

“It’s a small port in South Africa.”

“And where were they coming from this time?”

“From Rethymno.”

“And where’s that?”

“In Crete. They were supposed to be going to Oran, but bad weather forced them to change course.”

The inspector seemed astonished.

“Are you surprised?”

“Well, yes. It’s not that the Vanna is a small craft, but still…”

“Actually, it’s one of the finest yachts in all the world, you know. On top of that, Livia’s husband had all the equipment and motors customized.”

“Sperli said they have an auxiliary motor that doesn’t work very well.”

“Come on! I think they only use the sails for decoration. That boat is an eighty-five-foot sea serpent that originally had twenty-four sleeping berths. The cabins were later expanded and modified, so that now there are barely half a dozen beds, but in exchange they gained a great deal of space and another sitting room.”

“That big motorboat looks pretty serious too.”