The Scent of the Night (7 page)

'What makes you say that?
’

'Something, in my opinion, started between the two almost immediately. They would sometimes stand apart and whisper...'

'But that doesn't mean anything. They might have been talking business
’

'And looking into each other's eyes that way? And then there were the "yes" days and the "no" days
’

‘I
don't know what you mean.'

'You know, it's typical of lovers. If their last encounter went well, then the next time they see each other they're all smiles and touchy-feely ... But if things didn't go welt if they'd had a quarrel, then there's a kind of chill, they avoid touching each other, looking each other in the eye. Gargano, whenever he came to Vigata, would stay at least a week, and so there was plenty of time for "yes" days and "no" days. It would have been hard for me not to notice.'

'Do you have any idea where they would meet?'

'No. Gargano was a very private man. And Giacomo was also really reserved.'

'Listen, after Gargano disappeared, did you ever hear from him again? Did he write or phone the office or make any kind of contact?'

You shouldn't be asking
me
that; you should be asking Mariastella. She's the only one left at the office. I never went back after I realized that some infuriated client might take things out on me. Giacomo was the smartest of all of us, since the morning Gargano didn't come in, he didn't show up either. He must have had an inkling.'

'An inkling of what?'

'That Gargano'd made off with all the money. You see, Inspector, Giacomo was the only one of us who understood anything about Gargano's business dealings. He probably went to the bank the day before and found out that no funds had been transferred from Bologna to Vigata. At which point he would have realized something wasn't right, so he stayed away. At least that's what I thought.'

'And you were wrong, because the day before Gargano arrived, Giacomo left for Germany.'

'Really?' said the girl, genuinely astonished. 'To do what?'

'Sent there on assignment by Gargano
. For a stay of at least one month. To take care of some business.' 'And who told you that?'

'Giacomo's uncle. The one looking after the construction of the house.'

'What house?' asked Michela, completely confused.

'You didn't know Giacomo was building a house just off the road between Vigata and Montelusa?'

Michela put her head in her hands.

'What are you saying? Giacomo scraped by on his salary of two million two hundred thousand lire. That much I know for certain!'

‘
Maybe his parents—'

'His parents are from Vizzini and get by on the chicory in their garden. Listen, Inspector, this whole story you've just told me doesn't make any sense. It's true that every now and then Gargano used to send Giacomo off to clear up certain problems, but it was always
unimportant stuff, and it always involved our own affiliates. I seriously doubt he would ever send him to Germany on important business. As I said, Giacomo knew more than the rest of us, but there was no way he could operate on an international leveL He's not old enough, and secondly—'

'How old is he?' Montalbano interrupted.

'Twenty-five. And, secondly, he has no experience. No, I'm convinced he pulled out that excuse with his uncle because he wanted to disappear for a while. He knew he couldn't handle all the infuriated clients.'

'So he goes into hiding
for a whole month?'

'Bah. I don't know what to think,' said Michela. 'Give me a cigarette.'

Montalbano gave her one and lit it. The girl smoked it in short drags, without opening her mouth, visibly agitated. The inspector didn't feel like talking either, so he put his brain on automatic pilot.

When she'd finished smoking, Michela said in her Marlene voice (or was it Garbo dubbed?):

‘
Now I have a headache.'

She tried to open the window but couldn't.

'Allow me. Now and then it gets stuck.'

He leaned over the girl and realized too late that he'd made a mistake.

Michela's arms were suddenly wrapped around his shoulders. Montalbano's mouth opened in astonishment, and that was his second mistake. Michela's mouth overwhelmed his half-open one and began a sort of meticulous exploration thereof with her tongue. Montalbano momentarily succumbed, then got hold of himself and executed a painful unsticking manoeuvre.

'Behave.'

'Yes, Daddy,' she said with a glint of amusement deep in her violet eyes. He turned on the ignition, put the car in gear, and drove off.

But that 'behave' had not been addressed to the girl. It was addressed to that part of his body which, upon solicitation, had not only promptly responded but actually intoned in a ringing voice the patriotic anthem that goes:
The tombs shall open, the dead shall rise...

'Maria santissima,
Chief! What a scare I got! I'm still shaking all over, Chief! Look at my hand. See it trembling, see it?'
‘I
see it. What happened?'

'The c'mishner called poissonally in poisson and axed for you. I tole 'im you's monetarily absint an' as soon as you got back
I’
d
a tell you he wants a talk t'you. But then he axed, the c'mishner did, to talk to the rankling officer.'

'The ranking officer, Cat.'

'Whatever is, is, Chief, All 'at matters is we unnastand each other. So I was saying as how Inspector Augello's matrimoniously engaged to be married soon an' so he's on leavings, an' you know what the c'mishner says to me then? He says: "I don't give a damn." Just like that, Chief! So I says, since Fazio ain't here neither, there ain't no rankling nobody. And then he axed me what my name is an' so I says Catarella. So then he says, "Listen, Santarella," and I wanna make a point and put 'im right, so I says, "My name's Catarella." And yknow what the c'mishner
said then? He said: "I don't give a damn what your name is." Just like that. He was outside himself, the c'mishner was!'

'Cat, we're gonna be here all night at this rate. What'd he want?
’

'He tole me to tell you you got twenty-four hours to give 'im the answer you're asposta give 'im.'

The Italian mail permitting, the c'mishner would receive the pseudo-anonymous letter the next day. That would calm him down.

'Any other news?
’

‘
Nuthin' at all, Chief.'

"Where's everybody else?
’

‘F
azio went over to Via Lincoln for a brawl, Gallo's at the Sciacchitano store 'cause there was a little hold-up there—'

‘
What do you mean, "little"?'

‘I
mean the holder-upper's a little boy, thirteen years old, with a gun as big as my arm. An' Galluzzo's at the place where they found a bomb this morning that never bombed, and Imbro and Gramaglia went to-—'

'OK, OK,' said Montalbano. 'You were right, Cat All quiet on the western front'

And as he went into his office, Catarella scratched his head.

It's not too quiet in the Westerns I seen, Chief!' On the inspector's desk, Fazio had left a four-foot stack of papers to be signed, with a little note on top saying: 'Extremely urgent.' Montalbano cursed the saints, knowing there was no
getting around it.

When he was seated at his usual table in the Trattoria San Calogero, the owner, Calogero, came up to him with a conspiratorial air.

‘
We got
nunn
atu
today, Inspector.'

'But isn't it illegal to fish for them?'

'Yes it is, but every now and then we're allowed to catch one crate per boat'

'So why do you mention it as if it's some kind of secret plot?
’

' 'Cause everybody wants 'em and I haven't
got enough.'

'How are you going to cook them? With lemon?
’

‘
No, Inspector. The babies meet their maker in the frying pan, rolled into dumplings.'

Montalbano had to wait a bit, but it was worth it. The flat, crispy dumplings were studded with hundreds of little black dots, the tiny eyes of the newborn fishlets. The inspector ate them as if participating in a sacred rite, knowing all the while he was ingesting something along the lines of a massacre. To punish himself, he decided not to eat anything else. Once outside the trattoria, as sometimes happened, the irksome voice of his conscience made itself heard.

To punish yourself, you say? What a hypocrite you are, Montalbano! Wasn't it rather because you were afraid you might get indigestion? Do you know how many dumplings you put away? Eighteen!

For one reason or another he went to the port and walked all the way out to the lighthouse, relishing the air of the sea.

'Fazio, in your opinion, how many ways are there to get to Sicily from the mainland?'

Three, Chief. By car, by train, or by boat. Or on foot, if you want'

'Fazio, I don't like you when you try to be clever.'

‘I
wasn't trying to be clever. During the last war my dad came all the way from Bolzano to Palermo on foot'

'Have we got Gargano's licence-plate number somewhere?
’

Fazio looked at him in surprise.

Wasn't Augello handling this case?'

Well, now I'm handling it Got a problem with that?'

Why should I have a problem with it? I'm gonna go look through Inspector Augello's papers. Actually, I think I'll give him a ring. If he finds out I've been sticking my nose in his stuff, the guy's liable to shoot me. Did you sign those papers there? Yes? Then
I’ll
take them off your hands and bring you some more;'

If you bring me any more papers to sign, I'll make you eat them one by one
’

Arms full of files, Fazio stopped in the doorway and turned around.

If I may say so, Inspector, you re wasting your time on Gargano. You want to know what I think?'

‘
No, but if you really must, go ahead'

‘
Jesus, have you got a chip on your shoulder today! What'd you do, have some food go down the wrong way?'

And he went out, indignant, without revealing what he thought about the Gargano case. Barely live minutes had passed when the door flew open and slammed against the wall, a small piece of plaster falling to the ground. Catarella appeared, face invisible, hidden by a stack of documents over three feet high in his arms.

‘
Beg your pardon, Chief, had to push the door open with my foot 'cause my arms are full.'

'Stop right there!'

Catarella froze.

‘
What have you got there?' the inspector asked. 'Papers you're sposta sign. Fazio just now give 'em to me.'

'I'm going to count to three, and if you haven't disappeared I'm going to start shooting.'

Catarella obeyed, walking backwards and moaning in terror. A little vendetta on the part of Fazio, who'd taken offence.

A good half hour passed without any sign of Fazio. Had he moved on to
sabotage? ‘F
azio!'

He came in, dead serious.
‘
Your orders, sir
’

'Still haven't got over it? You're really taking it hard,

eh?
’

'What am I supposed to be taking so hard?' 'The fact that I didn't let you tell me what you thought about Gargano. It's all right, you can tell me
’
‘
I don't want to anymore.'

Was this the Vigata Central Police Station or the Maria Montessori Kindergarten? If he gave him a red shell or a button with three holes would Fazio agree to talk in exchange? Better to get on with things.

'So, about that licence plate.'

'I'm unable to reach Inspector Augello, he doesn't even answer his mobile.'

'Go ahead and look in his files
’
‘
You authorizing me?' "That's right. Go.'

'There's no need. I've got it right here, in my pocket.'

He pulled out a little scrap o
f
paper and handed it to Montalbano, who refused to take it

'How'd you find it?'

'Looking through Augello's files.'

Montalbano felt like slapping him around. When he put his mind to it, Fazio could give an invertebrate a nervous fit

'Go back now and look through Augello's files some
more. I want to know the exact day when everyone was expecting Gargano to return.'

'Gargano was supposed to be here by the first of September
’
Fazio said immediately. 'There were dividends to pay. By nine in the morning there were already some twenty people waiting for him.'