away?’
‘What do you want me to say, my dear Zito? The day before that, when passing in front of the Di Blasi house, I saw that the front door was bolted with a padlock the size of a trunk.
I am positive that at no point did he hide out at his house. Maybe he didn’t want to compromise his family’
Montalbano was convinced of two things: the lawyer was prepared to belie the assertions of the Flying Squad captain even as concerned the young man’s hideout, which meant that the charge against the father would have to be dropped, with grave prejudice to Panzacchi.
As for the second thing, he needed confirmation.
‘Would you tell me something, sir?’
‘At your orders, Inspector’
‘Are you always out hunting? Aren’t you ever in court?’
Guttadauro smiled at him.
Montalbano smiled back. They had understood each other. In all likelihood, the lawyer had never gone hunting in his life. Those who’d seen the incident and sent him on this mission must have been friends of the people Guttadauro called his clients. And the objective was to create a scandal for the Montelusa police department. The inspector had to play shrewdly; he didn’t like having these people as allies.
‘Was it Mr Guttadauro who told you to call me?’ the inspector asked Nicolo.
‘Yes.’
Therefore they knew everything. They were aware he’d been wronged, they imagined he was determined to avenge himself, and they were ready to use him.
‘You, sir, must certainly have heard that I am no longer in charge of the case, which in any event should be considered closed’
‘Yes, but—’
‘There are no buts, sir. If you really want to do your duty as a citizen, go to Judge Tommaseo and tell him your version of the events. Good day.’
He turned around and walked out. Nicolo came running after him and grabbed him by the arm.
‘You knew! You knew about the shoe! That’s why you told me to ask Panzacchi what the weapon was!’
‘Yeah, Nicolo, I knew. But I advise you not to mention it on your news programme. There’s no proof that things went the way Guttadauro says, even though it’s probably the truth. Be very careful’
‘But you yourself are telling me it’s the truth!’
Try to understand, Nicolo.
I’d be willing to bet that our good lawyer doesn’t even know where the fuck the cave that Maurizio hid in is located. He’s a puppet, and his strings are pulled by the Mafia. His friends found something out and decided they could take advantage of it. They cast a net into the sea and they’re hoping to catch Panzacchi, the commissioner and Judge Tommaseo in it. That would make some pretty big waves. However, to haul the net back into the boat, they need somebody strong, that is, me, who they think is blinded by the desire for revenge. Now do you get the picture?’
Yes. What line should I take with the lawyer?’
‘Repeat the same things I said Let him go and tell it to the judge. He’ll refuse, you’ll see. But it’s you who will repeat to Tommaseo, word for word, what Guttadauro said If he’s not a fool, and he’s not, he’ll realize that he, too, is in danger.’
‘But he had nothing to do with the killing of Di Blasi.’
‘But he signed the indictment against his father. And those guys are prepared to testify that Maurizio never hid in his father’s house at Raffadali. Tommaseo, if he wants to save his arse, has to disarm Guttadauro and his friends.’
‘How?’
‘How should I know?’
Since he was in Montelusa anyway, the inspector decided to go to Montelusa Central Police Station, hoping not to run into Panzacchi. Once there, he headed immediately to the basement, where forensics was located He walked straight into the office of the chief.
‘Hello, Arqua.’
‘Hello,’ the other said, iceberg-cold ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I was just passing by, and I became curious about something.’
‘I’m very busy.’
‘Of course you are, but I’ll only steal a minute of your time. I want some information about the grenade Di Blasi tried to throw at those police officers.’
Arqua didn’t move a muscle.
‘I’m not required to tell you anything.’
How could he be so self-controlled?
‘Come on, colleague, be a sport. I need only three things: colour, size and make.’
Arqua looked sincerely baffled. His eyes were clearly asking whether Montalbano hadn’t gone completely mad.
‘What the hell are you saying?’
‘Let me help you. Black?
Brown? Forty-three? Forty-four? Moccasin? Superga? Varese?’
‘Calm down,’ said Arqui, though there was no need. He was sticking to the rule that one should try to humour madmen.’Come with me.’
Montalbano followed behind him. They entered a room with a big, white half-moon table around which stood three busy men in white smocks.
‘Caruana,’ Arqua said to one of the three men, ‘show our colleague Montalbano the grenade.’
As this man was opening a metal cabinet, Arqua continued talking.
It’s dismantled now, but when they brought it here it was live and dangerous.’
He took the plastic bag that Caruana held out to him, and showed it to the inspector.
‘An old OTO, issued to our army in 1940.’
Montalbano was unable to speak. He studied the pieces of the grenade as if looking at the fragments of a Ming vase that had just fallen to the floor.
‘Did you take fingerprints?’
‘They were very blurry for the most part, but two of Maurizio Di Blast’s came out very clearly, the thumb and index finger of the right hand.’
Arqua set the bag on the table, put his hand on Montalbano’s shoulder, and pushed him out into the corridor.
I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I had no idea the commissioner would take you off the case.’
He was attributing what he thought was a momentary lapse of Montalbano’s mental abilities to the shock of his removal A good kid, deep down, Dr Arqua.
The chief of the crime lab had undoubtedly been sincere, Montalbano thought as he drove down to Vigata. He couldn’t possibly be that brilliant an actor. But how can one throw a hand grenade gripping it only with the thumb and index finger? The best thing that might happen if you threw it that way is that you’d blow your balls to bits.
Arqua should have been able to get a print of much of the right palm as well Given all this, where had the Flying Squad performed the feat of taking two of the already dead Maurizio’s fingers and pressing them by force against the grenade? No sooner had he posed the question, than he turned around and headed back to Montelusa.
TWELVE
‘What do you want?’ asked Pasquano as soon as he saw him enter his office.
‘I need to appeal to our friendship’ Montalbano began.
‘Friendship? You and I are friends? Do we ever dine together? Do we confide in each other?’
Dr Pasquano was like that, and the inspector didn’t feel the least bit upset by his words. It was merely a matter of finding the right formula.
‘Well, if not friendship, then mutual esteem.’
‘That, yes.’
He’d guessed right. It would be smooth sailing from here.
‘Doctor, what other tests do you have to run on Michela Licalzi? Are there any new developments?’
‘New developments? I told the judge and the commissioner long ago that as far as I was concerned, we could turn the body over to the husband.’
‘Oh, really? Because, see, the husband himself told me he got a call from the commissioner’s office saying that the funeral couldn’t be held until Friday morning.’
‘That’s their goddamn business.’
‘Excuse me, Doctor, for taking advantage of your patience. Was everything normal with the body of Mauri zioDi Blasi?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, how did he die?’
‘What a stupid question. A burst of machine-gun fire. They practically cut him in two. They could’ve made a bust of him and put it on a column.’
‘And
