IM11 The Wings of the Sphinx (2009) (28 page)

“Yes, I just broadcast the news half an hour ago.”

“Do you know who he was?”

“Was?”

“Yes, I was just at the hospital. He’s got only a few hours to live. So, who was he?”

“A decent fellow. Forty years old, unmarried. Up until last year he had a fabrics store. Then business turned bad and he had to close it. There’s no explanation for the shooting. Maybe a terrible case of mistaken identity.”

“No explanation?”

Zito’s eyes sparkled and he tensed in his chair.

“Why, have
you
got an explanation for it?”

“I may.”

“What is it?”

“Do you know of an organization called Benevolence, founded by Monsignor Pisicchio?”

“No . . . or maybe yes . . . I’ve vaguely heard it mentioned. They’re involved in rescuing young women who—”

“Exactly. Did you know that Tommaso Lapis was the guy whose job it was to convince these girls to abandon the life they were leading and put their trust in Monsignor Pisicchio’s organization?”

“No, I didn’t know. So you think some pimp—”

“Wait. Did you know that the girl with the moth tattoo, the one killed by Morabito, had almost certainly been taken in by Benevolence?”

“Holy shit!”

“Exactly. So you, Nicolò, have got to start making a lot of noise about this connection, immediately. Trumpets blaring. Because, you see, everyone at Benevolence is on the take. Half a day is all someone like you would need to figure things out. But you gotta start raising the roof right now.”

“Why?”

“As I said, I’m in a really big hurry, Nicolò. In fact, what time is it?”

“Ten past twelve.”

Matre santa
, he was late!

“Can I make a phone call?”

“Sure.”

18

They found Mimì Augello waiting for them in the main doorway of the station. He had the face of someone who hadn’t slept a wink all night.

“How’s the baby?”

“Better now.”

“What was wrong with him?”

“Some chickenshit that Beba blew all out of proportion.”

“Let’s go into my office,” said the inspector.

“Oh,” said Augello, “I wanted to tell you that the hospital just called. Lapis is dead.”

“So,” began Montalbano, as soon as they had all sat down. “We have to pick up the Benevolence investigation where we left off. I had asked you both to dig up as much information as possible on—”

“Guglielmo Piro, Michela Zicari, Anna Degregorio, Gerlando Cugno, and Stefania Rizzo,” Fazio recited from memory. “Tommaso Lapis was also on the list, but we have to cross him off due to circumstances beyond our control.”

“Now, however, we’ve got no more time to waste on information. We have to move into action. I want to see all of them, one by one, here at the station, starting now. The first on the list should be our beloved Cavaliere Guglielmo Piro.”

“One minute,” said Mimì. “Shouldn’t we inform the prosecutor?”

“We should, but we won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ninety-nine percent certain that Tommaseo will find a rash of quibbles to waste our time with.”

“So let him waste it. The important thing is for him not to block us.”

“Mimì, first of all, I’m in a really big hurry. Secondly, my fear is precisely that Tommaseo will be forced by some superior of his to block us.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Mimì stood up, bowed to Montalbano, then sat back down.

“Faced with so exhaustive an explanation of your reasons,” he said, “I declare myself fully satisfied. So you think there’s a connection between the killings of Lapis and the girl with the tattoo?”

“It seems clear to me.”

“Where’s all this clarity come from?”

“From the fact that the shot that killed Lapis followed the exact same trajectory as the shot that killed the girl.”

“Could be a coincidence.”

“No, Mimì, it’s a message. Clear to any who want to read it. For those who don’t, it’s only a coincidence, as you say.”

“And what does the message say?”

“I killed this man the same way he got that girl killed.”

“But maybe—”

“Mimì, you’re making me lose too much time. Come on, Fazio, get moving. In fact, you give ’im a hand, too, Mimì.”

It was already two o’clock. He tried calling Livia again. Nothing. Only the usual recorded female voice. The phone rang. Want to bet it’s her? He was ready to beg her forgiveness, even get down on his knees in the presence of the whole police force.

“Ahh Chief! That’d be summon who says ’is name is Antonio Dona and ’d like to talk t’you poissonally in poisson.”

He’d never met anyone one named Antonio Dona in his life. But he took the call.

“Hello, this is Don Antonio, do you remember me?”

Of course he remembered him! The boxing priest!

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m on my way to your office with Katya.”

“Where are you right now?”

“About three-quarters of the way there.”

But, if Katya came to the station, she might run into someone from Benevolence.

“Listen, Father, do you know where Marinella is?”

“Of course.”

“Perhaps it’s better if we meet there. There’s a bar, and at this hour there won’t be anyone there.You’ll see it right away; it’s got a great big sign.”

Catarella saw him shoot past like a rocket.

Katya Lissenko was a very fine-looking girl. The forms of her solid, artfully shaped body were practically bursting out of her clothes, even though they were hidden and humbled inside a pair of baggy jeans and a big floppy sweater. It was clear how poor Signor Graceffa could have lost his head over her.

“Katya decided to come talk to you as soon as we heard that Tommaso Lapis had been shot. And on the way here we learned that he died,” Don Antonio began.

“A preliminary question,” said Montalbano. “Do you, Katya, want this meeting to remain private, or are you willing to testify in court?”

Katya exchanged glances with Don Antonio.

“I’m willing to testify.”

“But until you do,” Don Antonio cut in, “I think it’s best if you stay with us. Katya has managed to meet a fine young man who is putting her up. They’re very fond of each other. But I’m afraid of what could happen, Inspector.”

“You’re absolutely right. So, Katya, shall I begin with my questions?”

“All right.”

“Why the moth tattoo?”

“In Schelkovo, the agency I turned to for help in expatriating used to do that. Since we would leave in small groups, usually four girls at a time, five at the most, they made each group take a different tattoo.”

“A kind of branding.”

Katya’s beautiful face darkened.

“Right. Like they do with animals. Anyway, that’s what we were for them—work animals. And we needed the work to help out our families, who had sold everything they had. We went through some terrible times in Russia. They made us study a bit of dance and immediately we were off to Italy to work the nightclubs. There were four girls in our group, same as the number of wings on the moth that was tattooed on our shoulder blades.”

“How much did you earn, on average, in the nightclubs?”

“The money we earned went directly to pay off our debt to the agency in Schelkovo, which also took care of finding us an apartment together in Italy. To earn enough to be able to send some back home, we had to go with clients after closing time.”

She blushed.

“I see. Where did you meet Tommaso Lapis?”

“At a nightclub in Palermo. First we were sent to Viareg gio, Grosseto, and then Salerno. Lapis talked mostly to Sonya. Several times. Finally, one day, when we were all at home, Sonya told us that Mr. Lapis had offered to have us all move to Montelusa, where a charitable organization would take care of us and have us work as home care assistants, housekeepers, cleaning women. Honest jobs that might lead to something.”

“And who was going to settle the debt with the agency?”

“Lapis said not to worry about it. He would have his friends take care of it.”

Mafiosi, apparently.

“The fact remains,” Katya continued, “that our families in Russia didn’t suffer any reprisals. Because this was what the people at the agency were always threatening us with. If one of you escapes, they would say, her family’s gonna pay.”

“In short, you accepted Lapis’s offer.”

“Yes. But Lapis wanted us to show up at the Benevolence office saying that we had come there on our own and not mention that he had suggested it to us. And he ordered us not to come all at the same time.”

It was clear: Lapis wanted to hide his role as principal inspiration and organizer of the group.

“Why, when you arrived, were you and Irina so terrified?”

“Who, us?” said Katya, completely confused.

Apparently this was a little extra color added by Cavaliere Piro.

“So, Sonya arrived after the two of you?”

“Yes.”

“By any chance, was your fourth companion Zin?”

“Zinaida Gregorenko, yes.”

“How come she never came and joined you at Benevolence?”

Katya gave him a puzzled look.

“What do you mean, she never came? She was the fourth to arrive!”

Cavaliere Piro had neglected to tell him this. So the cavaliere, too, was neck-deep in it.

“Then what happened?”

“What happened was that the day after the four of us were brought together, Mr. Lapis took us aside and told us what he had in mind. He was going to place us in different homes, and we were supposed to keep our eyes open and see if there was any jewelry or money. And then, when the time was right, to steal it and disappear. Afterwards, he would take care of relocating us in another town and selling the stuff. The person who carried out the robbery was entitled to twenty-five percent of the proceeds.”

“Did all of you accept?”

“Sonya did right away. But I think she was already in agreement with him before leaving the nightclub. Then Irina and Zin also accepted. Then I did, too.”

“Why?”

“Where would I go without the other girls? It was important for us to stay together. But I secretly promised myself that I would run away the first chance I got. Which I did. I never stole anything. Then Zin also quit, but for other reasons.”

“What sort of reasons?”

“She fell in love and went to live with her boyfriend.”

“And how did Lapis take this?”

“Badly. But he couldn’t do anything about it. Because the man Zin was with was a dangerous criminal and threatened to tell the police the whole story.”

“When you heard on television that a girl was found dead in an illegal dump, did you realize immediately that they were talking about Sonya?”

Katya looked at him saucer-eyed.

“Sonya?!”

“It wasn’t her?”

“No, it was Zin who was killed!”

Now it was Montalbano’s turn to look saucer-eyed.

“But wasn’t Zin out of the loop by then?”

“She was. But she needed money to pay for her boyfriend’s lawyer after he ended up in jail. And Lapis took advantage of this to persuade her to come back to him. He got her hired by a housecleaning business. One of Zin’s jobs was to clean the apartment of that shop owner. Eventually she realized he had a lot of money in the house, especially on Saturday nights. But Zin imposed one condition: that, after this job, Lapis was not to show his face anymore. But then . . .”

Two big tears rolled down her cheeks. Don Antonio put his hand on her shoulder for a moment.

“But how did you find out all these things?”

“Every now and then I call Sonya.”

“Excuse me, but Sonya could find out where the calls are coming from, couldn’t she?”