Fazio chuckled.
“Well, knowing him, it’s a surprise it didn’t happen sooner.”
“Yes, but I discovered that Mimi’s lover is Dolores Alfano and that they meet in a house owned by Pecorini.”
“Holy shit! And are they still lovers now?”
“Yes.”
Fazio was speechless.
“And you . . . you . . . knowing this . . . you assigned him the investigation anyway?”
“Well, what’s so strange about that? It was the Mafia that killed Alfano, wasn’t it? Don’t you agree?”
“So it seems.”
“If we suspected Dolores of having anything to do with her husband’s murder, then that would change everything, and Mimi would find himself in a difficult position, to say the least.”
“Wait a minute, Chief. Does Inspector Augello know that you know?”
“That he has a lover and that this lover is Dolores? No, he doesn’t.”
“I don’t get it,” said Fazio. “The woman seemed so in love with her husband! Was she with Augello even before she began to worry that her husband had disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“So it was all an act she put on with us!”
“Yes, and she’s still reciting it.”
“I’m sorry, but I think I’m losing my mind. Why was Inspector Augello so keen on leading this investigation? To do his girlfriend a favor? But at the time we didn’t even know who the dead man was! Unless...”
“Very good! Unless Mimi himself already knew, because Dolores had told him who she thought the dead man might be.”
“But that means—”
“Wait. Somebody’s scratching at the door,” Montalbano interrupted him. “Go see who it is.”
Fazio got up and opened the door. It was Catarella.
“I’s knockin’ wit’ my fingernails and din’t crash the door!” he said, chortling with satisfaction.
He laid a sheet of paper on the desk.
“Iss a copy o’ the arcticle.”
As Catarella left, Montalbano started reading the article aloud.
HORRIFIC CRIME IN PUTUMAYO
Vigatese businessman murdered and dismembered
A fifty-two-year-old Vigatese businessman, Filippo Alfano, was murdered yesterday in his office at 28 Amatriz. The body was found by Senora Rosa Almu, who went there every evening around 8 pm to clean the premises. Upon entering the bathroom and seeing the contents of the bathtub, Mrs. Almu fainted. After regaining consciousness, she called the police. Although Filippo Alfano was clearly murdered, it is not known how, since the body was hacked to pieces with extraordinary ferocity. Authorities hope to establish the cause of death after the autopsy. Mr. Alfano, who left Sicily for Colombia about two years ago, leaves a wife and young son.
“Shall we bet he was hacked into thirty pieces?” asked Montalbano.
“So our murder looks pretty much like Balduccio’s follow-up act,” said Fazio.
Montalbano was thinking that, yes, Balduccio had confessed to the murder of Filippo Alfano, but he had neglected that little detail about having had him chopped up into thirty pieces, the same number as Judas’s silver coins. That was why he had admitted to the crime, certain that Montalbano would look into it. He had omitted that detail on purpose. Once the inspector discovered the shambles that had been made of Filippo Alfano’s body, he would understand that the repetition of the carnage was like forging his signature.
“Take this article and put it away somewhere.”
“Shouldn’t I show it to Inspector Augello?”
“Only when I tell you to.”
“I’m sorry, Chief, but this article looks to me like proof that it was definitely Balduccio who—”
“Only when I tell you to,” Montalbano repeated coldly.
Fazio put the sheet of paper in his pocket, but seemed more doubtful than ever.
“So how should I act with Inspector Augello?”
“How do you feel like acting? Just act the way you always do.”
“Chief, I’ve still got hundreds more questions for you.”
“So many? We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”
“You coming back in the afternoon?”
“Yes, but late. After lunch I’m going home. You can reach me there if you need me.”
