you left her and when the witness saw her. That’s almost five hours, a pretty long time. And now we have to go because Dr Emanuele Licalzi is coming.’
As they were getting in the car, Montalbano, like a squid, squirted a black cloud over the whole picture.
‘I’m not so sure your public opinion poll would be so unanimous on Maurizio’s innocence. One person, at least, would have serious doubts.’
‘Who?’
‘His father, Engineer Di Blasi. Otherwise he would have had us out searching for his son.’
It’s natural for you to follow every lead. Oh, I just remembered something. When Maurizio rang me to ask about Michela, I told him to call her directly on her mobile phone. He said he’d already tried, but her phone was turned off.’
In the doorway to headquarters, he practically ran into Galluzzo, who was coming out.’Back from your heroic exploit?’ ‘Yessir,’ Galluzzo said uneasily. Fazio must have told him about his morning outburst. Is Inspector Augello in his office?’ ‘No sir.’
Galluzzo’s uneasiness visibly increased.
‘And where is he? Out clubbing other strikers?’
‘He’s in the hospital’
‘Eh? What happened?’
Montalbano asked, worried.
‘Hit on the head with a stone. They gave him three stitches. But they wanted to keep him there for observation and told me to come back at eight tonight. If everything’s all right, ‘I’ll drive him home.’
The inspector’s string of curses was interrupted by Catarella.
‘Chief, Chief! First of all, Dr Latte with an
Then there was tree other phone calls I wrote down on dis little piece a paper.’
‘Wipe your arse with it.’
Dr Emanuele Licalzi was a diminutive man in his sixties, with gold-rimmed glasses and dressed all in grey. He looked as if he’d just been pressed, shaved and manicured. Impeccable.
‘How did you get here?’
‘You mean from the airport?
I rented a car and it took me almost three hours’
‘Have you already been to your hotel?’
‘No. I’ve got my suitcase in the car. I’ll go there afterwards’
How could he be so wrinkle-free?
‘Shall we go to the house?
We can talk in the car, that way you’ll save time’
‘As you wish, Inspector’
They took the doctor’s rented car.
‘Did one of her lovers kill her?’
He didn’t beat around the bush, this Emanuele Licalzi.
‘We can’t say yet. One thing is certain: she had repeated sexual intercourse’
The doctor didn’t flinch, but kept on driving, calm and untroubled, as if it wasn’t his wife who’d just been killed.
‘What makes you think she had a lover here?’
‘Because she had one in Bologna.’
‘Ah’
‘Yes, Michela even told me his name. Serravalle, I think. An antiquarian.’ ‘That’s rather unusual’
‘She used to tell me everything.
She really trusted me.’ ‘And did you also tell your wife everything?’ ‘Of course.’
‘An exemplary marriage’ the inspector commented ironically.
Montalbano sometimes felt irretrievably left behind by the new lifestyles. He was a traditionalist. For him, an ‘open relationship’ meant nothing more than a husband and wife who cheated on each other and even had the gall to tell each other what they did under or on top of the covers.
‘Not an exemplary marriage,’ the unflappable Dr Licalzi corrected him, ‘but a marriage of convenience.’ ‘For Michela or you?’ ‘For both of us.’ ‘Could you explain?’
‘Certainly.’ He turned right
‘Where are you going?’ the inspector asked. ‘This road won’t take you to Tre Fontane.’
‘Sorry,’ said the doctor, beginning a complex manoeuvre to turn the car round. ‘But I haven’t been down here for a year and a half, ever since I got married. Michela saw to all the construction herself; I’ve only seen photographs. Speaking of photographs, I packed a few of Michela in my suitcase. I thought they might be of some use to you.’
‘You know what? The murder victim might not even be your wife.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes. Nobody has officially identified the body, and none of the people who’ve seen it actually knew her when she was alive. When we’ve finished here, I’ll talk to the pathologist about identifying her. How long do you plan on staying?’
‘Two, three days at the most. I want to take Michela back to Bologna.’
‘Doctor, I’m going to ask you a question, and I won’t ask you again. Where were you Wednesday evening, and what were you doing?’
‘Wednesday? I was at the hospital, operating late into the night’
‘You were telling me about your marriage.’
‘Yes. Well, I met Michela three years ago. Her brother, who lives in New York now, had a rather severe compound fracture in his foot and she brought him to the hospital. I liked her at once. She was very beautiful, but what struck me most was her character. She was always ready to see the bright side of things. She lost both her parents before the age of fifteen and was brought up by an uncle who one day saw fit to rape her. To make a long story short she was desperate to find a place to live.
For years she was the mistress of an industrialist but he eventually disposed of her with a tidy sum of money that helped her get along for .a while. Michela could have had any man she wanted, but basically, it humiliated her to be a kept woman.’
‘Did you ask Michela to become your mistress, and she refused?’
For the first time, a hint of a smile appeared on Emanuele Licalzi’s impassive face.
‘You re on the wrong track entirely. Inspector. Oh, by the way, Michela told me she’d bought a bottle-green Twingo to get around town. Do you know what’s become of it?’
It had an accident.’
‘Michela never did know how to drive.’
‘Your wife was entirely without fault in this case. The car was properly parked in front of the drive to the house and somebody ran into it.’
‘And how do you know this?’
It was us, the police, who ran into it. At the time, however, we still didn’t know–’
‘What an odd story.’
‘I’ll tell it to you sometime. Anyhow, it was the accident that led us to discover the body.’
‘Do you think I could have the car back?’
‘I don’t see any reason why not.’
‘I could resell it to somebody in Vigata who deals in used cars, don’t you think?’
Montalbano didn’t answer.
He didn’t give a shit about what happened to the car.
‘That’s the house there on the right, isn’t it? I think I recognize it from the photograph.’
‘That’s it.’
Dr Licalzi executed an elegant manoeuvre, pulled up in front of the drive, got out of the car, and stood looking at the house with the detached curiosity of a sightseer.
‘Nice. What did we come here for?’
‘You know, some people think it was Maurizio Di Blasi, the son of your cousin the engineer, who killed your wife.’
‘Really.’ I don’t know him.
When I came here two and a half years ago, he was in Palermo for his studies.
I’m told the poor boy’s a half-wit.’
So there.
‘Shall we go inside?’
‘Wait, I don’t want to forget.’
He opened the boot of the car, took out the elegant suitcase that was inside, and removed a large envelope from it.
‘The photos of Michela.’
Montalbano slipped it in his jacket pocket. As he was doing this, the doctor extracted a bunch of keys from his own pocket,
‘Are those to the house?’
Yes. I knew where Michela kept them at our place in Bologna. They’re the extra set,’
‘You never finished telling me why your marriage was as convenient for you as it was for your wife.’
‘Well, it was convenient for Michela because she was marrying a rich
