through?’
It was clearly Catarella on the afternoon shift. But why did he say ‘in person’ and not ‘in poisson’?
‘All right, put him through. What is it, Galluzzo?’
Inspector, some guy phoned TeleVigata after they broadcast the photos of Mrs Licalzi and Maurizio Di Blasi together like you asked. He says he’s positive he saw the lady with a man around eleven thirty that evening, but the man was not Maurizio Di Blasi. He says they stopped at his bar, right outside Montelusa.’
‘Is he sure it was Wednesday night?’
‘Positive. He explained that he didn’t go to the bar on Monday and Tuesday because he was out of town, and Thursday it’s closed. He left his name and address. What should I do, come back to the station?’
‘No, stay there until after the eight o’clock news. Somebody else might come forward.’
The door flew open, slammed against the wall, and the inspector started.
‘Can I come in?’ asked Catarella, smiling.
Without a doubt, Catarella had a problem with doors. Montalbano, confronted with that innocent face, suppressed the attack of nerves that had come over him.
‘Yes. What is it?’
This package jes now came f’you, and this personally ‘dressed letter.’
‘How’s your course in pewters going?’
‘Fine, Chief. But they’re called computers, Chief.’
Montalbano looked at him in amazement as he left the room. They were corrupting Catarella.
Inside the envelope he found a few typewritten lines without a signature:
Montalbano felt the package. A videotape.
As Fazio and Giallombardo had his car, he summoned Gallo to drive him in the squad car. ‘Where are we going?’
To Montelusa, to the Free Channel studios. And don’t speed, I mean it. I don’t want a rerun of last”
Thursday.’
Gallo’s face darkened.
‘Aw, it happens to me once and you start bellyaching the minute you get in the car!’ They drove there in silence.
‘Should I wait for you?’
Gallo asked when they got there.
‘Yes. This won’t take very long.’
Nicolo Zito showed him into his office. He was nervous.
‘How’d it go with Tommaseo?’
‘How do you expect? He gave me a royal tongue-lashing, flayed me alive. He wanted the witnesses’ names.’
‘And what did you do?’
‘I pleaded the Fifth Amendment.’
‘C’mon, there’s no such thing in Italy.’
‘Fortunately! Since anyone who pleads the Fifth in America still gets screwed anyway.’
‘How did he react when he heard Guttadauro’s name? That must have had a certain effect’
‘He got all flummoxed.
Looked worried to me. At any rate, he gave me an official warning. Next time he’s going to throw me in jail with no questions asked.’
‘That’s what I wanted.’
‘For me to get thrown in jail with no questions asked?’
‘No, arsehole, for him to know that Guttadauro and the people he represents are mixed up in this.’
‘What’s Tommaseo going to do, in your opinion?’
‘He’ll talk to the commissioner about it. I’m sure he realizes he’s caught in the net, too, and he’s going to try to wiggle out of it. Listen, Nicolo, I need to watch this video.’
He handed it to him. Nicolo took it and inserted it in his VCR. It opened with a long shot showing a handful of men in the country, but their faces were unreadable. Two people in white smocks were loading a body onto a stretcher. Superimposed across the bottom of the image were the unmistakable words: ‘Monday 14.4.97.‘ Whoever was shooting the scene then zoomed in, and now one could see Panzacchi and Dr Pasquano talking. There was no sound The two men shook hands and the doctor walked out of the field of vision. The image then panned out to capture the six officers of the Flying Squad standing around their captain. Panzacchi said a few words to them, and they all walked off camera. End of show.
‘Holy shit!’ Zito said under his breath.
‘Make me a copy.’
‘I can’t do it here, I have to go into the production studio.’
‘All right, but be careful: don’t let anyone see it.’
Montalbano didn’t sign the note or write down the address, which he knew from the phone directory. Zito returned and handed him two tapes.
‘This is the original and this is the copy. It came out only so-so. You know how it is, making a copy of a copy…’
‘I’m not competing for an Oscar. Give me a big brown envelope.’
He slipped the copy in his jacket pocket and put the note and original in the envelope. He didn’t write any address on this, either.
Gallo was in the car, reading the
‘Do you know where Via Xerri is? At number eighteen you’ll find the law offices of Orazio Guttadauro.
I want you to drop off this envelope, then come back and get me.’
When Fazio and Giallombardo straggled back into headquarters, it was past nine.
‘Oh, Inspector, what a farce, and a tragedy, too!’ said Fazio.
‘What did he say?’
‘First he talked, and then he didn’t,’ said Giallombardo.
‘When we showed him the ammo box, he didn’t understand. He said, “What’s this? Some kind of joke, eh? Is this a joke?” As soon as Giallombardo told him the box had been found at Raffadali, his face changed and started to turn pale.’
‘Then, when he saw the weapons inside,’ interjected
Giallombardo, who wanted to put in his two cents, he had a fit, and we were scared he was going to have a stroke right there in the car’
‘He was shaking all over, like he had malaria. Then he got up, climbed over me and ran away in a hurry’
said Fazio.
‘He was running like an injured hare, stepping this way and that,’ concluded Giallombardo. ‘What now?’
asked Fazio.
‘We’ve made our noise. Now we wait for the echo. Thanks for everything’
‘Duty’ Fazio said dryly.
And he added, ‘Where should I put the ammo box? In the safe?’
‘Yes’ said Montalbano.
Fazio had a rather large safe in his room. It wasn’t used for documents, but for holding seized drugs or weapons before turning them over to Montelusa.
Fatigue sneaked up on him; his forty-sixth was just around the comer. He informed Catarella he was going home, but told him to forward any phone calls to him. Past the bridge he stopped the car, got out, and walked up to Anna’s house. And what if she was with someone? He tried anyway.
Anna greeted him.
‘Come on in’
‘Anybody there?’
‘Nobody.’
She sat him down on the sofa in front of the television, turned down the volume, left: the room, and returned with two glasses, one with whisky for the inspector, another with white wine for herself.
‘Have you eaten?’
‘No,’ said Anna.
‘Don’t you ever eat?’
‘I ate at midday.’
Anna sat down beside him.
‘Don’t get too close; I can tell I smell,’ said Montalbano.
‘Did you have a rough afternoon?’ ‘Rather.’
Anna extended her arm across the back of the sofa; Montalbano leaned his head back, resting the nape of his neck against her skin. He closed his eyes. Luckily he had put the glass down on the coffee table, because he fell at once into a deep sleep, as though the whisky had been drugged. He woke up with a start half an hour later, looked all around himself in confusion, realized what had happened, and felt embarrassed.
‘Forgive me.’
‘Good thing you woke up. My arm is full of pins and needles.’
The inspector stood up. ‘I have to go.’ ‘I’ll see you out,’
At the door, very naturally, Anna placed her lips lightly on Montalbano’s.
‘Have a good sleep, Salvo’
He took a very long shower, changed his underwear and clothes, and phoned Livia. The phone rang for a long time, then the connection was suddenly cut off. What was that blessed woman doing? Was she wallowing in her
