“No. Now we know where it is. Fazio, you go down and get Catarella. You, Mimi, go and wait for them in the cave.”
“And what about you?” asked Augello.
“I’m going to get in the Jeep and go home. I’ve had enough of this.”
“I beg your pardon? What about the investigation?”
“What investigation, Mimi? If the body was fresh, then our presence here might serve some purpose. But who knows when and where this person was murdered? You need to call the prosecutor, coroner, and the Forensics lab. Do it now, Mimi.”
“But to get here from Montelusa, it’ll take those guys a good two hours at the very least!”
“In two hours it’ll be raining hard again,” Ajena chimed in.
“So much the better,” said Montalbano. “Why should we be the only ones to get soaked to the bone?”
“And what am I supposed to do for these two hours?” Mimi asked sullenly.
“You can play cards,” said the inspector. Then, seeing Ajena walking away, he added: “Why did you call Catarella and tell him my presence was indispensable here?”
“Because I thought that—”
“Mimi, you didn’t think anything. You wanted to make me come here for the sole purpose of busting my balls, so I could get drenched like everybody else.”
“Salvo, you just said it yourself: Why should only Fazio and I get soaked while you’re still lying in bed?”
Montalbano couldn’t help but notice how much anger there was in Augello’s words. He hadn’t done it as a joke. What on earth was happening to the guy?
When he got back to Marinella it had started pouring again. It was well past lunchtime by then, and spending the morning in the open air had, moreover, whetted his appetite. He went into the bathroom, changed out of his rain-soaked suit, and hurried into the kitchen. Adelina had made him pasta’ncasciata and, as second course, rabbit cacciatore. She very rarely made this, but whenever she did, it brought tears of happiness to his eyes.
By the time Fazio straggled back into the station, night was falling. He must have gone home first, showered, and changed. But he was visibly tired. It hadn’t been an easy day at
“Where’s Mimi?”
“Gone home to rest, Chief. He felt a bit of fever coming on.”
“And Catarella?”
“Him too. Over a hundred, I’d say. He wanted to come in anyway, but I told him to go home and lie down.”
“Did you recover the bag with the body?”
“You know what, Chief? When we went back to
“Jesus Christ, what a pain in the ass! The corpse that wouldn’t stay put! So where was it?”
“The water and sludge had carried it about ten yards farther down. But part of the bag got torn, so a few of the pieces—”
“Pieces? What pieces?”
“Before the body was put in the bag, it had been cut up into small pieces.”
So Ajena was right about what he’d seen: The toes had been cut off the feet.
“So what did you do?”
“We had to wait till Coco arrived from Montelusa.”
“And who’s Coco? Never heard of him.”
“Coco’s a dog, Chief. A really good dog. He found five body parts that had fallen out of the bag and got scattered about, including the head. After which Dr. Pasquano said that as far as he could tell, the corpse seemed complete. And so we were finally able to leave.”
“Did you see the head yourself ?”
“I did, but you couldn’t tell anything from it. The face was gone. It’d been totally obliterated by repeated blows from a hammer or mallet, or some heavy object.”
“They didn’t want him recognized right away.”
“No doubt about it, Chief. ’Cause I also saw the index finger of the right hand, which had been cut off. The whole fingertip had been burnt off.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Of course, Chief. That the victim had a record and could have been identified from his fingerprints. So they took the necessary measures.”
“Was Pasquano able to determine how long ago he was killed?”
“He said two months, at the very least. But he needs to have a better look at him in the autopsy.”
“Do you know when he’ll do that?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
