The Age Of Doubt

What was so strange about that?

“That’s right.”

“But she died years ago!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“And who are you, may I ask?”

“Fabio Panzica, a probate lawyer. It was over a question of inheritance.”

At the mere mention of the word inheritance, people almost always rush forward faster than a school of starved fish. And this case was no exception.

“Perhaps it would be better if you gave me a few more details,” the woman said.

“Gladly. But who are you, if I may ask?”

“I am Matilde Mauro. I was Vanna’s best friend, and she left me her apartment in her will.”

And, sure as death, Signora Matilde now was hoping for a supplement to that inheritance.

“May I ask, Signora Mauro, how Vanna died?”

“On a mission. The helicopter she was in crashed. She was unharmed but immediately captured. Since they thought she was a spy, she was tortured and then killed.”

Montalbano balked.

“But when was this? And where?”

“In Iraq. Two months before Nasiriyah.” [6]

“Why was this never reported?”

“Well, it was a covert mission, as they say. I can’t tell you any more than that.”

And he didn’t want to know any more, either. It was an interesting case but, as far as he was concerned, he was merely wasting his time.

“I thank you for your courtesy, signora, but… Do you, by any chance, know any other Vanna Digiulios?”

“No, I don’t, I’m sorry.”

Dining on the veranda was out of the question. True, half a day had gone by without more rain, but it was still too damp. He set the table in the kitchen, but didn’t feel much like eating. He was still smarting from being made a fool of by the girl.

He sat down, picked up a pen and a sheet of paper, and started writing a letter to himself.

Dear Montalbano,

Glossing over the distinction of Dipshit Emeritus that you earned by letting the so-called Vanna Digiulio (clearly an assumed name) lead you around by the nose, I feel I have no choice but to bring the following to your attention:

1) Your meeting with Vanna was pure chance. But as soon as she learned that the person taking her to safety was you, a well-known police inspector, she was able to exploit the situation with great skill and lucidity. What does this mean? That Vanna is a person endowed with quick reflexes and a keen ability to adapt to unforeseen situations in order to gain a maximum advantage from them. As for her humble, wet-dog manner, which touched you so deeply, that was just a put-on, not an amateur but a professional performance, staged to fool a sitting duck (rhymes with stupid fuck) like you.

2) There is no doubt that Vanna was aware of the imminent arrival of the Vanna.

3) There is no doubt that Vanna is not the niece of the yacht’s owner.

4) There is no doubt, however, that she is, in some way, and for reasons unknown, known to the owner and to Captain Sperli (the glance they exchanged was rather telling).

5) There is no doubt that Vanna has never been aboard the Vanna.

6) There is no doubt that by saying Vanna had left, and thereby ending all discussion of the subject, the yacht’s owner wanted to avoid arousing suspicion in you, my dear inspector.

7) There is no doubt that, in having no doubts, you find yourself, without a doubt, neck-deep in shit.

So perhaps you’d better start thinking of some doubts you may have.

Come to think of it, when Vanna was drinking her caffelatte, she told you some things about her supposed aunt that she had no reason whatsoever to tell you. But she said them anyway.

A few examples:

1) That the aunt’s husband, Arturo, was very rich.

2) That he had bought the Vanna and then left it to his wife in his will.

3) That he was always at sea (like his widow, after him).

4) That nobody knew how he had earned all the money he had. In other words, with this last statement, Vanna left the field open to every supposition, even the worst.

Why did she want to instill such doubt in you? She could have avoided it. But she didn’t.

Think about it.

Affectionately yours,

***

Since it was still too early to go to bed, he sat down in the armchair and turned on the TV. On the Free Channel, his friend, the newsman Nicolo Zito, was interviewing a man of about fifty with a beard, who turned out to be Captain Zurlo, chief navigation officer of the port.

Naturally, they were talking about the topic of the day, the Vanna’s discovery of the stray dinghy. Zito’s questions were, as always, quite intelligent.

“Captain Zurlo, how far from the mouth of the port did the people on the Vanna say they were when they spotted the dinghy?”

“A little more than an Italian mile.”

“Why do you say ‘Italian’ mile? Aren’t all nautical miles the same?”

“Theoretically speaking, a nautical mile, being one sixty-sixth of one degree of a meridian, should correspond to 1.852 meters. But in fact, in Italy it is equal to 1.851 meters and 85 centimeters; in England it’s 1.853 meters and 18 centimeters; in the U.S. it’s-”

“Why these differences?”

“To make life complicated for us.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Therefore we can say that the dinghy with the corpse inside was very close to the port.”

“Quite so.”

“Could you explain for us why the Vanna, after taking the dinghy and corpse on board, took so many hours to enter the port? Was it because of the storm?”

The captain smiled.

“It wasn’t actually a sea storm, far from it.”

“No? Then what was it?”

“Technically speaking, it’s called a strong gale, corresponding to winds of force 9 on the Beaufort scale.”

“In plain language?”

“It means that the wind is approaching forty-five knots and waves can reach a height of twenty feet. The Vanna was in danger of crashing against the eastern cape. Since the auxiliary engine wasn’t working very well, they had to go back out to the open sea and find a more favorable tack.”

“How come the dinghy hadn’t capsized?”

“Chance, or maybe it was caught between two conflicting currents.”

“Here comes the most important question. In your opinion, with your many years of experience, was the dinghy being carried away from the port by the currents, or was it heading towards the port, also on the currents?”

Montalbano pricked up his ears.

“It’s sort of hard to say with any certainty. You see, there’s always a current flowing out of the port, but it’s