“Tell her,” the inspector said while looking at the photographs from the drawer, “that Allah is great and merciful, but if she’s bullshitting me, Allah is going to be very upset, because she’ll be cheating justice, and then she’ll really be fucked.” Buscaino carefully translated, and the old woman shut up as if her spring had come unwound. But then a little key inside her wound her back up, and she resumed speaking un-controllably. The uncle, who was very wise, was right; he’d seen things clearly. Several times in the last two years, Karima had received visits from a young man who came in a large automobile.
“Ask her what color.”
The exchange between Buscaino and the old woman was long and labored.
“I believe she said metallic gray.”
“And what did Karima and this young man do?” What a man and woman do, uncle. The woman heard the bed creaking over her head.
Did he sleep with Karima?
Only once, and the next morning he drove her to work in his automobile.
But he was a bad man. One night there was a lot of commotion. Karima was shouting and crying, and then the bad man left.
She had come running and found Karima sobbing, her naked body bearing signs of having been hit. Fortunately, Francois hadn’t woken up.
Did the bad man by any chance come to see her last Wednesday evening?
How had the uncle guessed? Yes, he did come, but didn’t do anything with Karima. He only took her away in his car.
What time was it?
It might have been ten in the evening. Karima brought Francois down to her, saying she’d be spending the night out.
And in fact she came back the next morning around nine, then disappeared with the boy.
Was the bad man with her then?
No, she’d taken the bus. The bad man arrived a little later, about fifteen minutes after Karima had left with her son. As soon as he learned the woman wasn’t there, he got back in his car and sped away to look for her.
Had Karima told her where she was going?
No, she hadn’t said anything. The old woman had only seen them heading on foot towards the old quarter of Villaseta, where the buses stop.
Did she have a suitcase with her?
Yes, a very small one.
He told the old woman to look around. Was there anything missing from the room?
She threw open the doors of the armoire, and the scent of Volupte exploded in the room. She opened a few drawers and rummaged around in them.
When she’d finished, she said that Karima had packed that suitcase with a pair of slacks, a blouse, and some panties.
She didn’t wear bras. She’d also thrown in a change of clothes and some underwear for the boy.
The inspector asked the woman to look very carefully.
Was anything else missing?
Yes, the large book she kept next to the telephone.
The book turned out to be some sort of diary or ledger.
Karima must certainly have taken it with her.
“She’s not planning to stay away very long,” Fazio commented.
“Ask her,” the inspector told Buscaino, “if Karima spent the night out often.”
Now and then, not often. But she always let her know.
Montalbano thanked Buscaino and asked him:
“Could you give Fazio a ride to Vigata?”
Fazio gave his superior a perplexed look.
“Why, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to hang around a little longer.”
o o o
Among the many photographs the inspector began to examine were those in a large yellow envelope, some twenty-odd photos of Karima in the nude, in various poses from provocative to downright obscene, a kind of sampling of the merchandise, which was obviously of the highest quality.
