Before leaving the hospital, Montalbano knocked back a double J&B, neat, at the bar. Then they headed back to Montelusa. He figured he'd be back in Vig by 7:30, and therefore could keep his appointment with Ingrid.
'He talked, didn't he?'
'Yes.'
'Anything important?'
'Yes, in my opinion.'
'Why did he choose you?'
'He said he wanted to give me a present, for playing fair with him throughout this whole business.'
'I'm listening.'
Montalbano told him everything, and when he had finished, the commissioner looked pensive. Then he sighed.
'You work it all out yourself, with your men. It's better if this remains a secret. Nobody else should know about it, not even in my office. As you've just seen, there are moles everywhere.'
He visibly sank back into the bad mood he'd been in during the drive to the hospital. 'So it's come to this!' he said angrily.
Halfway home, the cell phone rang. 'Yes?' answered the commissioner.
Somebody spoke briefly at the other end.
'Thank you,' said the commissioner. He turned to Montalbano. 'That was De Dominicis. He kindly informed me that Tano died virtually as we were leaving the hospital.'
'They'd better be careful,' said Montalbano.
'Careful?'
'Not to let anyone steal the body,' the inspector said with bitter irony.
They rode another while in silence.
'Why did De Dominicis bother to inform you that Tano was dead?'
'That call, for all practical purposes, was meant for you, my friend. Obviously De Dominicis, who's no fool, correctly believes that Tano managed to tell you something. And he would like a share of the pie, if not the whole thing.'
Back at headquarters, he found only Catarella and Fazio. It was better this way; he preferred talking to Fazio with nobody around. Out of a sense of duty more than curiosity, he asked:
'Where are the others?'
'They went chasing after four kids who were racing each other on two motorbikes.'
'Jesus! The whole squad is gone chasing after a pair of racing motorbikes?'
'It's a special kind of race,' Fazio explained. 'One motorbike is green, the other yellow. The yellow one starts out first and races the whole length of a street, snatching whatevers there to be snatched. An hour or two later, after the people have calmed down, the green one takes off and swipes whatevers still there to be swiped. Then they change street and neighborhood, but this time the green one goes first. It's a race to see who can steal the most.'
'I see. Listen, Fazio, this evening I want you to drop by the Vinti warehouse and ask the manager, in my name, to lend us some shovels, pickaxes, mattocks, and spades, ten or so. We'll all meet here tomorrow morning at six. Inspector Augello and Catarella will stay behind at headquarters. I want two cars, no, make that one car, cause you're going to ask Vintis to give you a Jeep, too. By the way, who has the key to our garage?'
'Whoevers on duty always has it. At the moment, that would be Catarella.'
'Get it from him and give it to me.'
'Right away. But if you don't mind my asking, what do we need shovels and pickaxes for?'
'We're changing profession. As of tomorrow, we're going into farming, the healthy life, working in the fields. What do you say?'
'You know, Inspector, for the last few days there's just no reasoning with you. Maybe you could tell us what's got into you? You're always obnoxious and rude.'
8
He first met Ingrid in the course of an investigation in which, through a series of false leads, she'd been offered up to him, though completely innocent, as the scapegoat. Since then a strange sort of friendship had developed between the inspector and that splendid woman. From time to time Ingrid would call him up and they would spend the evening chatting. The young woman would talk about her problems, confiding in Montalbano, and he would dispense wise, brotherly advice. He was a kind of spiritual father, a role he'd had to impose on himself by force, since Ingrid didn't exactly arouse spiritual feelings and his recommendations were always studiously ignored. At none of their meetings there'd been six or seven had Montalbano ever shown up before she did. Ingrid had a mania for punctuality.
This time too, after parking in the Marinella Bars lot, he noticed that her car was already there, beside a Porsche convertible that looked like a rocket and was painted a tasteless shade of yellow that offended the eyes.
When he entered the bar, Ingrid was standing at the counter drinking a whisky. Beside her was a fortyish man dressed in a fancy canary-yellow suit, sporting a Rolex and ponytail, and talking to her confidentially.
