'I'm sorry, I forgot something. Are you sure the truck was completely empty after you unloaded it?'
'No, I didn't say that. There were still about fifteen large crates. The driver said they belonged to that supermarket in Trapani that he'd found closed.'
'But what is all this fucking commotion so early in the morning?' Signora Carmelina shrieked from within, and Montalbano fled without even saying good-bye.
...
'I think I've determined, with reasonable accuracy, the route the weapons traveled before reaching the cave. Bear with me, Mr. Commissioner. Here goes: In some way that we have yet to discover, the weapons come to the Brancato firm in Catania from some other part of the world. Brancato warehouses them and puts them in big boxes with the company name on them, so they look like they contain normal electrical appliances to be sold in supermarkets. When they receive the order to deliver, the Brancato people load the boxes with the weapons onto the truck, along with the rest. As a precaution, along some stretch of road between Catania and Caltanissetta, they replace the company truck with a stolen one. That way, if anybody finds the weapons, Brancatos can claim they had nothing to do with it, they know nothing about it, the truck isn't theirs, and, in fact, they themselves were robbed. The stolen truck begins its circuit, dropping off the... uh... clean crates at the various supermarkets it supplies, then heads off to Vig. Before arriving, however, it stops in the middle of the night at the Crasticeddru and unloads the weapons in the cave. Early that morning, according to Lacommare, the store manager, they deliver their final packages to the Ingrassia supermarket and then leave. On the way back to Catania, the stolen truck is then replaced by the companys actual truck, which returns home as if it has made its full journey. Maybe they take care to tinker with the odometer each time. And they've been playing this little game for at least three years, since Jacomuzzi said that the outfitting of the cave in fact goes back three years.'
'Your explanation makes excellent logical sense,' said the commissioner. 'But I still don't understand the whole charade of the phony robbery.'
'They acted out of necessity. Do you remember that gunfight between a patrol of carabinieri and three thugs in the Santa Lucia countryside, where one carabiniere was wounded?'
'Yes, I do remember it, but whats that got to do with this?'
'The local radio stations broadcast the news around nine p.m., right when the truck was on its way to the Crasticeddru. Santa Lucia is only about a mile and a half away from the cave. The traffickers must have heard the news on the radio. It would have been stupid to let themselves be spotted in a deserted place by some patrol of which there were many that night, racing to the site of the shoot-out. So they decided to push on to Vig. They were certain to run into a roadblock, but that was the lesser evil at this point, since they stood a good chance of slipping through. And that's what happened. So: they arrive well ahead of schedule and make up the story about the supermarket closed for mourning in Trapani. Ingrassia, who's been alerted of the hitch, has his employees unload the truck, which then pretends to head back to Catania. It's still carrying the weapons, those same crates which they told Lacommare, the manager, we're supposed to have gone to the supermarket in Trapani. The truck is then hidden somewhere around Vig, on Ingrassias or some accomplices property.'
'I ask you again:Why fake the heist? From where they'd hidden it, the truck could have easily gone back to the Crasticeddru without having to pass through Vig.'
'But it did have to pass through Vig. If they'd been stopped by the carabinieri, the Customs Police, or whomever, with those fifteen crates aboard, unaccompanied by any delivery note, they would have aroused suspicion. Theyd have been forced to open one, and that would have been the end of that. They absolutely did have to take back the packages that Ingrassia had unloaded, and which he had every reason not to open.'
'I'm beginning to understand.'
'So, at a certain hour of the night, the truck returns to the supermarket. The night watchman is in no position to recognize either the deliverymen or the truck because he wasn't yet on duty when they came the previous evening. They load the still-sealed packages, head off to the Crasticeddru, unload the weapons crates, turn back around, ditch the truck in the lot behind the filling station, and their work is done.'
'But can you tell me why they didn't simply get rid of the stolen merchandise and head back to Catania?'
'That's the stroke of genius. By leaving the truck behind with all the stolen merchandise inside, they throw us off their trail. We're automatically forced to assume some kind of flap a threat, a warning for not paying ones protection dues. In short, they force us to investigate at a lower level, the kind of stuff that is unfortunately an everyday matter in this part of Italy. And Ingrassia plays his part very well, absurdly calling it all a practical joke.'
'A real stroke of genius,' said the commissioner.
'Yes, but if you look closely enough, you can always uncover a mistake. In our case, they didn't realize that a piece of cardboard had slipped under the planks that served as the caves floor.'
'Right, right,' the commissioner said pensively. Then, as if to himself: 'Who knows where the empty boxes ended up?' he queried.
Now and then the commissioner would pause in idiotic wonder over meaningless details.
'They probably loaded them into some car and burned them out in the country. Because some accomplices brought at least two cars to the Crasticeddru, perhaps to take the driver away after he'd ditched the truck behind the gas station.'
'So without that piece of cardboard we would never have discovered anything,' the commissioner concluded.
'Well, not exactly,' said Montalbano. 'I was following another path that would eventually have led me to the same conclusions. They were forced, you see, to kill a poor old man.'
The commissioner gave a start, darkening.
'A murder? Why was I not informed of this?'
'Because it was made to look like an accident. I only ascertained a couple of nights ago that the brakes on his car had been tampered with.'
'Was it Jacomuzzi who told you?'
'For the love of God! Jacomuzzi, bless his soul, is certainly competent, but mixing him up in this would have
