But there’s one point where Milly’s story and Carmen’s don’t jibe. Milly says that when the car arrived, it looked like the man had a tie or a black ascot around his neck; Carmen maintains that when she saw him, he had his shirt unbuttoned and that was all. But that seems like an unimportant detail to me, since Luparello could have taken off the tie while he was fucking. Maybe it bothered him.”
“His tie but not his jacket? But that’s not unimportant, Gege, because no tie or ascot was found inside the car.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe it fell out onto the sand when the girl got out.”
“Jacomuzzi’s men combed the area and didn’t find anything.”
They stood there in silence, thoughtful.
“Maybe there’s another explanation for what Milly saw,” Gege suddenly said. “Maybe it was never a question of ties or ascots. Maybe the man still had his seat belt on—after all, they’d just driven along the bed of the Canneto, with all its rocks and sticks—and he took it off when the girl climbed onto his lap, since the seat belt would surely have been a bother.”
“It’s possible.”
“I’ve told you everything I was able to find out about this, Salvu. And I tell you in my own interest.
Because for a big cheese like Luparello to come and croak at the Pasture isn’t good for business. Now everybody’s eyes are gonna be on it, so the sooner you finish your investigation, the better. After a couple of days people forget, and we can all go back to work in peace. Can I go now? These are peak hours at the Pasture.”
“Wait. What’s your opinion of the whole thing?”
“Me? You’re the cop. But just to make you happy, I will say that the whole thing stinks to me. Let’s imagine the girl is a high-class whore, a foreigner. Are you gonna tell me Luparello doesn’t have a place to take her?”
“Gege, do you know what a perversion is?”
“You’re asking me? I could tell you a few things that would make you puke on my shoes. I know what you’re going to say, that they came to the Pasture because they thought it would make it more erotic. And that does happen sometimes. Did you know that one night a judge showed up with his bodyguards?”
“Really? Who was it?”
“Judge Cosentino. See, I can even tell you the name. The evening before he was kicked out of office, he came to the Pasture with an escort car, picked up a transvestite, and had sex with him.”
“What did the bodyguards do?”
“They went for a long walk on the beach. But to get back to the subject: Cosentino knew he was a marked man and decided to have a little fun. But what interest could Luparello have had? He wasn’t that kind of guy. Everybody knows he liked the ladies, but he was always careful never to let anyone see him. And where is the woman who could make him risk everything he had and everything he stood for just to get laid? I don’t buy it, Salvu.”
“Go on.”
“If we suppose, on the other hand, that the chick was not a whore, then I really don’t know. It’s even less likely—downright impossible—they’d let themselves be seen at the Pasture. Also, the car was driven by the girl, that much is certain. Aside from the fact that no one would ever trust a whore with a car like that, that lady must have been something to strike fear in a man’s heart. First of all, she has no problem driving down into the Canneto, and then, when Luparello dies between her thighs, she gets up like nothing, closes the door, and walks away. Does that seem normal to you?”
“I don’t think so.”
At this point Gege started laughing and flicked on his cigarette lighter.
“What are you doing?” asked Montalbano.
“Come over here, faggot. Bring your face to the light.”
The inspector obeyed, and Gege illuminated his eyes. Then he extinguished the lighter.
“I get it. All along, you, a man of the law, were thinking the exact same thoughts as me, a man of crime. And you just wanted to see if they matched up.
Eh, Salvu?”
“You guessed right.”
“I’m hardly ever wrong when it comes to you.
Gotta go now. Ciao.”
“Thanks,” said Montalbano.
The inspector left first, but a moment later his friend pulled up beside him, gesturing for him to slow down.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know where my head was. I wanted to tell you this before. Do you have any idea what a pretty sight you made this afternoon, hand in hand with Corporal Ferrara?”
Then he accelerated, putting a safe distance between himself and the inspector, his arm waving good- bye.
~
Back at home, Montalbano jotted down a few of the details that Gege had provided, but sleep soon came over him. He glanced at his watch, noticed it was a little past one, and went to bed. The insistent ringing of the doorbell woke him up. His eyes looked over at the alarm clock: two-fifteen. He got up with some effort; the early stages of sleep always slowed down his reflexes.
