Halfway between Vigàta and Montelusa there were two large trucks stopped along the road, one pointing in one direction, the other pointing in the other, so that both lanes, which were rather narrow, were blocked. The only vehicles that managed to pass through were scooters and motorcycles.
The truck drivers must have been old friends who hadn’t seen each other for a long time. They’d got out of their respective cabs and were chatting blithely and laughing, slapping each other on the shoulders from time to time and not giving a damn about blocking traffic. Behind Montalbano, who happened to be right behind the truck pointed in the direction of Montelusa, a long queue of horn-blasting cars had formed.
At any other time Montalbano would have raised hell himself, honking the horn and yelling obscenities, and he would have ended up getting out of the car, spoiling for a fight. Instead he just sat there, a doltish smile on his face, waiting for the truckers to finish at their convenience and leave.
Ding dang dong.
And why was Dr. Pasquano also in a good mood?
After greeting him, the doctor had shown him into his office without uttering a single nasty word or insult as he normally did. He must surely have won at poker the night before at the club.
But was the doctor really in a good mood, or was that just how it seemed to him, Montalbano, given the fact that everything he saw now seemed enveloped in a sort of halo of candied pink?
“So you want to know about the sailor? And why’s that?”
“What do you mean, ‘Why’s that?’ It’s my job.”
“But aren’t you losing your edge with age?”
The inspector ignored this first provocation. He had to be patient and pretend not to have heard, because other, even more stinging insults were surely to follow.
“Can you tell me your thoughts on the matter?”
“To all appearances, an accident.”
“Oh, no you don’t, Doctor! I’m not gonna let you play cat and mouse with me. You can’t say, ‘to all appearances’; you have to tell me what you know for certain.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think the work you do is based on hypotheses, clues, conjectures, and vague stuff like that…”
“Is that what you think of us? But aren’t you aware that there is nothing in the world vaguer than man? And that we, too, proceed by means of conjecture? Do you think we’re like a bunch of little popes who never make a mistake?”
“Doctor, I didn’t come here to discuss the limitations of medical science. If you can’t tell me anything certain, tell me something half-certain.”
Pasquano seemed persuaded.
“I’ll start with a question. Do you smell a rat in this whole affair?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“Are you aware that when someone dies by drowning we normally find a great deal of water in the lungs?”
“Yes, I know. But this guy didn’t have any.”
“Who ever said that? He had plenty of water.”
“So then he died by drowning.”
“But why do you have this bad habit of always jumping to conclusions? Hasn’t old age made you a little more cautious?”
All this talk of old age was starting to get on the inspector’s nerves.
“C’mon, Doctor, get to the point. Did he have water in his lungs or not?”
“Don’t get pissed off, mind you, or I’ll clam up and say no more. There was water there, but not enough to drown him.”
“So how did he die, then?”
“From a powerful blow to the nape of the neck, which killed him instantly. An iron bar. It fits.”
“Fits with what?”
“With a sort of iron hook I noticed sticking out from the wharf about a foot and a half above the water. You hadn’t noticed it?”
“Doctor, when I looked, the hook was covered up by the body.”
“Let me try to explain this a little better. The poor guy, drunk as he was-and he’d had a lot to drink-took a wrong step, fell into the narrow space between the wharf and the broadside of the yacht, smashed his head against the hook, and died.”
“Doctor, now I’m completely confused.”
“That’s natural, given your-”
“What killed him, the hook or the iron bar?”
“The fact that you don’t understand is clearly owing to your age and not to any lack of clarity in my explanation. What I’m saying is that the killers were very clever. They’re trying to make us believe he died when his head struck the hook. But the hook was green with sea moss. Whereas there was no trace of moss around the man’s wound.”
“And how do you explain the water in the lungs?”
“A precautionary measure.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you see what kind of shape you’re in? Why don’t you retire? Can’t you see for yourself your time is up? Here is what happened, in my opinion. The killers-because there were at least two of them-grab the guy and dunk his head into the water to the point where he almost drowns and-”
“But the wharf is tall!”
“What makes you think they killed him there?”
“Where’d they kill him, then?”
“On the boat, of course! They take him aboard, shove his head into a basin or something like that full of water, let him have a good drink, then pull him back out, choking his guts out, deal him the fatal blow, take him to the appointed place, and chuck him into the water from the wharf.”
“I still don’t understand why you called it a precautionary measure.”
“Do you see how seriously impaired your brain is? It was to make it look like he took in the seawater in the few seconds of life he had left.”
There wasn’t anything else to be learned here. On top of that, Montalbano couldn’t stand the bastard’s provocations any longer.
“Thank you, Doctor. I’m sorry, but have you informed the commissioner’s office of the results of your autopsy?”
“Of course. I did my duty as soon as I’d finished my work.”
If Dr. Pasquano’s reasoning was correct, and it did seem to make a great deal of sense, then the killing, with all the commotion of shoving the guy’s head repeatedly into a bucket of seawater, could not have taken place aboard the yacht, no way. The risk would have been too great. Mimì Augello might hear something, however involved he was in bedroom gymnastics with La Giovannini at that moment.
It’s possible they did, at first, intend to carry out the killing on the yacht, but when La Giovannini appeared with Mimì on her arm, they would have been forced to change their plans.
Thus, when Captain Sperlì, while waiting for Shaikiri to return, saw Augello come aboard, his only course of action would have been to race over to the Ace of Hearts and tell them of the hitch in their plans.
But there was no escaping it: if the killing did not take place on the yacht, it could only have occurred on the cruiser. Definitely not on the wharf-or, at least, only the last phase could have taken place on the wharf: moving the corpse and then chucking it into the water.
And this brought up something very important for the investigation: namely, that there was some sort of amorous correspondence between the Vanna and the Ace of Hearts. No question but that there were strong elective affinities between the two boats. In less literary terms, they must have been complicit in affairs so shady as to lead to murder.
If that was how it was, however, it implied something unexpected: that La Giovannini was completely in the dark as to the premeditated killing. Otherwise she would not have taken Mimì back to her cabin but gone to his place instead.
Was La Giovannini therefore innocent?
Wait a second, Montalbà. Try, as Pasquano warned, not to jump to conclusions.
Indeed, one could even hypothesize the exact opposite on the basis of the fact that La Giovannini brought Mimì on board. While they’re dining in Montelusa, the lady gets an idea for creating an ironclad alibi. She’ll be rolling in the hay when the killing takes place.
No, that won’t work.
It won’t work because the alibi would be stronger if she went to Mimì’s place.
And so?
Maybe La Giovannini didn’t want the Arab to be liquidated aboard her yacht. Maybe she wasn’t opposed to killing him, but wanted, in one way or another, to be left out of it. Mimì’s dinner invitation therefore came at just the right time, providing her with a unique opportunity.
By bringing him into her cabin, she forced all the others to change their plan of action.
Mimì said they had run into the captain in the mess room purely by chance. But that meant nothing. If they hadn’t crossed paths with him, La Giovannini would probably have gone to talk to him, coming up with whatever excuse she could think of, so she could let him know that an outsider would be spending the night with her.
He went into his office, locked the door behind him, and rang Laura on the outside line.
As he was dialing, his heart started beating so wildly he was afraid he might be having a heart attack. How could he possibly be reduced to such a state at his age, like some adolescent in love for the first time?
“Hi. How are you?” he asked, his throat dry.
“Fine. And you?”
“I’m great. I wanted to tell you…”
Damn! He’d prepared a little speech that had worked like a charm in his head, but as soon as he’d heard her voice it had all vanished.
“What is it?”
“Well, I was about to go out to lunch, and was wondering…”
He got stuck, unable to speak. She came running to his assistance.
“If I could come out with you? I really wish I could, but I can’t leave the office. I’ve got some stuff to do. But we could…”
“Yes?”
“… see each other this evening, if you feel like it.”
“Of… of course I feel like it. Where?”
“I’ll come to your place and we can decide.”
Why, suddenly, was she no longer uncertain? Why, suddenly… No, no more questions. Enjoy the sound of the bells. Ding dang dong, ding dang dong.
At Enzo’s he gorged himself without restraint.
Apparently love whetted his appetite. Therefore a stroll along the jetty became a question of life or death.
He took the roundabout way, and as soon as he was within sight of the Vanna he realized with utter horror that the Ace of Hearts was not at its berth. It was gone, and there was no sign of it anywhere in the harbor.
Now a heart attack became a real possibility.
Matre santa! The boat had left, and it hadn’t even grazed the inspector’s consciousness that the Ace of Hearts could come and go as it pleased, since, officially at least, its owners had no connection to the murder.
He ran back to his car and left. Entering the station, he dashed past a startled Catarella and yelled:
“Get me Lieutenant Belladonna at the Harbor Office on the line!”
“She’s not a liutinnint, Chief.”
“No? Then what is she?”
“A woman.”
He couldn’t waste any time on Catarella and continued into his office. He’d barely sat down when the call went through.
“What is it, Salvo?”
The sound of her voice sent him reeling, as usual. But he made an effort and pulled himself together.
“Sorry to disturb you, Laura, but it’s important. As far as you know, has the Ace of Hearts put out to sea?”
“Not according to our information.”
“But it’s not in its berth.”
“That’s because they’re still doing checks on the engines. They’re probably doing some test runs out at sea.”
He heaved a sigh of relief.
“Do they have to tell you before they leave?”
“Of course. But why are you-”
“I’ll tell you later. See you in a bit.”
At sometime just past four o’clock a call came in from Augello.
“I urgently need to speak with you.”
“Then come.”
“To the office? Not on your life! I don’t want anyone to see me going into or coming out of the police station.”
“You’re right.”
“What should we do?”
“Shall we say at my place in half an hour?”
“All right.”
Walking by Catarella’s closet, he said:
“I’m going out for about an hour. If Lieutenant Belladonna happens to call for me, tell her to ring me on the cell phone. Can I rest easy on this?”
“You can rest easy as pie, Chief.”
That way, if Laura called him because of some hitch in their plans, she would know how to reach him.
Mimì was punctual.
“I’ve just had lunch with Liv-I mean La Giovannini.”
“Where?”
“That was the first new twist. We’d agreed to meet this evening for dinner, but then she called me on the cell phone to ask me if I wanted to come for lunch on the boat. I was still half asleep and needed more rest…”
“The rest of the warrior,” Montalbano commented.
But Augello was in no mood for sarcasm.
“What choice did I have?” he said.
“None. You had to go.”
“Indeed, and so I went. And I discovered the second new twist. Sperlì was going to eat with us.”
“Strange.”
“Not really. Wait. I realized she wanted to make me an official offer, and that’s why the captain was there.”
“In what capacity?”
“I dunno. Maybe as a witness, or partner, who knows.”
“What was the offer?”
“She said she’d given a lot of thought to the things I’d said when I told her I wasn’t happy at my current job, and she said she’d perhaps found a solution. But first I have to tell you something I forgot to mention this morning.”
“What?”
“When she asked me how much I earned at my job, I tossed out a figure, but I also made it clear that I was topping it up.”
“How?”
“By tampering with the gauge of the fuel’s distribution valve.”
“I see. So your credentials included a certain inclination for dishonesty.”
“Exactly. She suggested I work for her, looking after some of her interests.”
“So she’s ready to entrust her concerns to someone who openly declares his dishonesty. It’s a good thing to know. And what would these interests be?”
“She didn’t specify. She said she would fill me in on everything in due time, if I accepted. She did, however, tell me something straight off. That I had twenty-four hours to accept or refuse. She wants to leave within three days at the very most, as soon as Shaikiri is buried.”
“Shit!”
“And she added another thing, too. She said this work she was offering me would involve, for all intents and purposes, a move to a foreign country.”
“Which?”
“South Africa.”
“To a town called Alexanderbaai?”
Augello looked confused.
“What was that?”
“Never mind, for now. And how much dough are they going to give you?”
“They said my monthly pay will far exceed my expectations.”
“And what did Captain Sperlì do the whole time?”
“He just sat there, quiet as a fish. What should I do?”
“The second round’s on for tonight?”
“Yes, dammit.”
“Listen, tell her you accept.”
“Why?”
“Because that’ll make her feel more secure. Try to find out about her interests in South Africa and exactly what sort of work she does. So how’d the business of the fuel end up?”
“I told her I was having the fuel analyzed and would give her an answer tomorrow morning.”
“Mimì, I have to ask you something about the night you spent with La Giovannini.”
“I’ve already told you I don’t feel like going into the details.”
“I’m not interested in the erotic details. You said you realized something had happened when you heard Sperlì talking over the phone. Is that right?”
“Exactly.”
“And what about before that? Did you hear anything that might have sounded like a body being dragged along the ground, or cries of pain…”
“Absolutely not.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you were too busy to-”
“Salvo, the walls in the boat are paper-thin! And you know what? I had to keep my hand over Livi-I mean La Giovannini’s mouth, or the whole crew would have heard her!”
Left to himself, he didn’t feel like going back to the station.
“Catarella? Listen, I’m going to stay home for the rest of the day. If any important calls come in, from, say, Lieutenant Belladonna, tell them to call me here. Understand?”
“Poifectly, Chief.”
He noticed that the floor of the veranda looked dirty. For reasons entirely impenetrable to him, Adelina, who kept the house sparkling clean, considered the veranda off-limits and never bothered with it. This suddenly seemed unacceptable, perhaps because Laura would soon be there. Grabbing a broom from the closet, he swept the tiles and then scrubbed them hard until they began to shine.
Then he went and opened the refrigerator. Seafood salad. On to the oven: pasta with broccoli and mullet in saffron sauce. He would leave it up to Laura to decide whether they should eat in or go out.
He went and took a hot shower to try to calm his nerves. He changed into clean underwear and clothes.
Grabbing a book, he went and sat down on the veranda and began reading. But he couldn’t understand a word, because with each new line he’d already forgotten what he’d read in the previous line.
At last, at a quarter to eight, the telephone rang.
“Ciao, Laura. So, when are you coming?”
“This is Commissioner Bonetti-Alderighi,” said Bonetti-Alderighi, sounding as Bonetti-Alderighi as humanly possible.