Nicotra.”
Montalbano’s mouth took the shape of an O.
“Are you kidding?”
“No, Chief. It was well known the senator dabbled in drugs. Every now and then, he would shut himself up in his villa and take a three-day trip by himself. Looks like this time he forgot to buy a return ticket.”
“But is this certain?”
“Gospel, Chief.”
“How do you like that? The guy did nothing but talk about morals and morality! Tell me something: When you went to the kid’s house, did you find the usual stuff—syringe, rubber hose?”
“Yeah.”
“With Nicotra it must have been something else, some badly cut stuff. I just don’t get it. I don’t understand these things. Anyway, may he rest in peace.”
As he was leaving, Fazio practically ran into Mimì Augello in the doorway.
“Mimì!” the inspector bellowed. “What a lovely surprise! A sight for sore eyes!”
“Leave me alone, Salvo, I haven’t slept a wink for two days.”
“Is the little one sick?”
“No, but he cries all the time. For no reason.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“But the doctors—”
“Forget about the doctors. Obviously the kid’s not in agreement with you and Beba about having been brought into the world. And considering the way the world is, I can’t say I blame him.”
“Listen. Don’t start in with your jokes. I just wanted to tell you that five minutes ago I got a call from the commissioner.”
“And what the hell do I care about your lovey-dovey phone calls? ’Cause nowadays you and Bonetti-Alderighi are downright hand in glove with each other, except it’s not clear who’s the hand and who’s the glove.”
“Did you get it out of your system? Can I talk now? Yes? The commissioner told me that tomorrow morning, around eleven o’clock, Inspector Liguori’s coming here, to the station.”
Montalbano darkened.
“The asshole from Narcotics?”
“The asshole from Narcotics.”
“What’s he want?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t even want to see his shadow.”
“That’s precisely why I came in to tell you. You, tomorrow, as of eleven o’clock, should make yourself scarce. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks. My best to Beba.”
He phoned Michela Pardo. He wanted to see her, not only because he had to ask her some questions, but also to find out why and what she’d taken from her brother’s apartment. The stupidity of having let her sleep at Angelo’s place weighed heavily on his mind.
“How’d it go this morning with Judge Tommaseo?” he asked her.
“He made me wait half an hour in the anteroom and then had someone inform me that the meeting had been postponed until tomorrow at the same hour. I’m glad you called, Inspector. I was about to call you.”
“What is it?”
“I wanted to know when we could have Angelo back. For the funeral.”
“To be honest, I don’t know. But I’ll find out. Listen, could you come by the station?”
“Inspector Montalbano, I decided it was better to tell Mama that Angelo is dead. I told her he died in a car accident. She had a very violent reaction, and I had to call our doctor. He gave her some sedatives, and she’s resting now. I don’t want to leave her alone. Couldn’t you come here?”
“Sure. When?”
“Whenever you like. In any case, I can’t leave the house.”
“I’ll be there around seven o’clock this evening. Let me have the address.”
About an hour later, Galluzzo returned.
“How’s Orazio doing?”
“Pretty far gone, Chief. He’s waiting for you to come see him.”
He pulled the key out of his pocket and handed it to the inspector.
“According to Orazio, this is the key to a portable Exeter strongbox, forty-five centimeters by thirty by twenty-five centimeters tall. He says you can’t open those boxes even with an antitank mine. Unless you’ve got the key.”
He and Fazio had searched the apartment and the room on the terrace for a wall safe. Surely they would have seen a strongbox that size. Which must
Montalbano’s mouth took the shape of an O.
“Are you kidding?”
“No, Chief. It was well known the senator dabbled in drugs. Every now and then, he would shut himself up in his villa and take a three-day trip by himself. Looks like this time he forgot to buy a return ticket.”
“But is this certain?”
“Gospel, Chief.”
“How do you like that? The guy did nothing but talk about morals and morality! Tell me something: When you went to the kid’s house, did you find the usual stuff—syringe, rubber hose?”
“Yeah.”
“With Nicotra it must have been something else, some badly cut stuff. I just don’t get it. I don’t understand these things. Anyway, may he rest in peace.”
As he was leaving, Fazio practically ran into Mimì Augello in the doorway.
“Mimì!” the inspector bellowed. “What a lovely surprise! A sight for sore eyes!”
“Leave me alone, Salvo, I haven’t slept a wink for two days.”
“Is the little one sick?”
“No, but he cries all the time. For no reason.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“But the doctors—”
“Forget about the doctors. Obviously the kid’s not in agreement with you and Beba about having been brought into the world. And considering the way the world is, I can’t say I blame him.”
“Listen. Don’t start in with your jokes. I just wanted to tell you that five minutes ago I got a call from the commissioner.”
“And what the hell do I care about your lovey-dovey phone calls? ’Cause nowadays you and Bonetti-Alderighi are downright hand in glove with each other, except it’s not clear who’s the hand and who’s the glove.”
“Did you get it out of your system? Can I talk now? Yes? The commissioner told me that tomorrow morning, around eleven o’clock, Inspector Liguori’s coming here, to the station.”
Montalbano darkened.
“The asshole from Narcotics?”
“The asshole from Narcotics.”
“What’s he want?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t even want to see his shadow.”
“That’s precisely why I came in to tell you. You, tomorrow, as of eleven o’clock, should make yourself scarce. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks. My best to Beba.”
He phoned Michela Pardo. He wanted to see her, not only because he had to ask her some questions, but also to find out why and what she’d taken from her brother’s apartment. The stupidity of having let her sleep at Angelo’s place weighed heavily on his mind.
“How’d it go this morning with Judge Tommaseo?” he asked her.
“He made me wait half an hour in the anteroom and then had someone inform me that the meeting had been postponed until tomorrow at the same hour. I’m glad you called, Inspector. I was about to call you.”
“What is it?”
“I wanted to know when we could have Angelo back. For the funeral.”
“To be honest, I don’t know. But I’ll find out. Listen, could you come by the station?”
“Inspector Montalbano, I decided it was better to tell Mama that Angelo is dead. I told her he died in a car accident. She had a very violent reaction, and I had to call our doctor. He gave her some sedatives, and she’s resting now. I don’t want to leave her alone. Couldn’t you come here?”
“Sure. When?”
“Whenever you like. In any case, I can’t leave the house.”
“I’ll be there around seven o’clock this evening. Let me have the address.”
About an hour later, Galluzzo returned.
“How’s Orazio doing?”
“Pretty far gone, Chief. He’s waiting for you to come see him.”
He pulled the key out of his pocket and handed it to the inspector.
“According to Orazio, this is the key to a portable Exeter strongbox, forty-five centimeters by thirty by twenty-five centimeters tall. He says you can’t open those boxes even with an antitank mine. Unless you’ve got the key.”
He and Fazio had searched the apartment and the room on the terrace for a wall safe. Surely they would have seen a strongbox that size. Which must
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