“I see. But did he confide in you?”
“In what sense?”
“In the way that a friend confides in a friend. For example, did he ever talk to you about his relations with his wife? Did he ever mention whether, in his travels, he met any other women . . . ?”
Dambrusco shook his head emphatically and repeatedly.
“I really don’t think so. He’s a serious person, not the kind to take love affairs lightly. In any case, he is very much in love with Dolores. In fact he’s confided to me that he misses her very much when he’s at sea.”
“And what about Dolores?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Does Dolores miss her husband very much when he is at sea?”
Carlo Dambrusco thought about this a moment.
“I honestly can’t say. Every time I’ve met Dolores she’s been with Giovanni. I’ve never had a chance to talk to her when he wasn’t there.”
“Fine, but that really wasn’t what I meant.”
“I realize that. But, to answer your question, no, I’ve never heard any malicious gossip about Dolores’s behavior.”
“One last question. As far as we know, Giovanni, when at home in Vigata, had only three friends with whom he socialized, you being one of them. I’ll be talking to the other two tomorrow morning. Which of the three was he closest to?”
Dambrusco did not hesitate.
“Michele Tripodi. Who’s waiting outside.”
“You mean he’s here?”
“Yes. He brought me here in his car. I have to take mine to Milan tomorrow, and it’s still at the mechanic’s.”
“Would you do me a favor? Could you ask him if he would come in to see me now instead of tomorrow morning ? It shouldn’t take but five minutes.”
“Of course.”
13
Michele Tripodi also looked to be about forty but, unlike Dambrusco, who was diminutive and skinny, he was tall, athletic, and affable, a handsome specimen.
“Carlo told me Giovanni has disappeared. Is it true? Does Dolores know?”
“It was Mrs. Alfano herself who got things moving.”
“But when would he have disappeared? When she got back from Gioia Tauro, Dolores told me Giovanni had taken ship.”
“That’s what Giovanni led her to believe, or was forced to have her believe.”
Michele Tripodi’s face darkened.
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You don’t like the sound of what?”
“What you just said. Giovanni never deceives Dolores, nor would he have any reason to make her believe something that wasn’t true.”
“Are you sure?”
“About what?”
“About both things.”
“Listen, Inspector. Giovanni is so taken by Dolores, I mean physically taken, that he’s not sure, he told me, that he could even make love to another woman.”
“Does he have any enemies?”
“I don’t know whether during the long sea voyages . . . at any rate, I think he would have mentioned it to me.”
“Listen, this is a delicate subject, but I have to ask you about it. If Giovanni has been kidnapped, couldn’t this be a sort of vendetta by proxy?”
Michele Tripodi understood at once.
“You mean a vendetta against the Sinagras?”
“Yes.”
“You see, Inspector, Giovanni felt very indebted, and grateful, to Don Balduccio, who helped him out when his father died . . . But Giovanni’s an honest man; he has no truck with the Sinagras’ business . . . And he always felt ashamed of what his father, Filippo, did in Colombia . . . It’s true, of course, that whenever he comes to Vigata he pays a call on Don Balduccio, no doubt about it, but it’s not as if they’re so close that—”
