Authors: Andrea Camilleri
Because hes a witness. He could recognize Fahrid the
way he recognized his uncle on TV. And Fahrid has already
killed Karima, Im sure of it. He killed her after taking her
away in a car that turns out to belong to our secret services.
What are we going to do?
You, for now, are going to sit tight. Im going to get
busy creating a diversion.
Good luck.
Good luck to you, my friend.
By the time he got back to headquarters it was already eve
ning. Fazio was there waiting for him.
Have you found Frans?
Did you go home before coming here? Fazio asked instead
of answering.
No. I came directly from Maz.
Chief, could we go into your office for a minute?
Once they were inside, Fazio closed the door.
Chief, Im a cop. Maybe not as good a cop as you, but
still a cop. How did you know the kid ran away?
Whats with you, Fazio? Livia phoned me in Maz
and I told her to call you.
See, Chief, the fact is, the young lady told me she was
asking me for help because she didnt know where you
were.
Touch said Montalbano.
And then, she was really and truly crying, no doubt
about that. Not because the kid had run away, but for some
other reason, which I dont know. So I figured out what it
was you wanted me to do, and I did it.
And what did I want you to do?
To raise a ruckus, make a lot of noise. I went to all the
houses in the neighborhood and asked every person I ran into.
Have you seen a little kid like so? Nobodyd seen him, but
now they all know he ran away. Isnt that what you wanted?
Montalbano felt moved. This was real friendship, Sicilian
friendship, the kind based on intuition, on what was left unsaid.
With a true friend, one never needs to ask, because the
other understands on his own and acts accordingly.
What should I do now?
Keep raising a ruckus. Call the carabinieri, call every
one of their headquarters in the province, call every police
station, hospital, anybody you can think of. But do it unofficially,
only by phone, nothing in writing. Describe the boy,
show them youre worried.
But are we sure they wont end up finding him, Chief ?
Not to worry, Fazio. Hes in good hands.
He took a sheet of paper with the stations letterhead and
typed:
to the ministry of transportation and automobile
registration:
for delicate investigation into abduction and
probable homicide of woman answering to name
karima moussa need name owner automobile
license-plate number am 237 gw. kindly reply
promptly. inspector salvo montalbano.
God only knew why, whenever he had to write a fax, he
composed it as if it were a telegram. He reread it. Hed even
written out the womans name to make the bait more appetizing.
They would surely have to come out in the open now.
Gallo!
Yes, sir.
Find the fax number for Auto Registration in Rome
and send this right away. Galluzzo!
At your orders.
Well?
I took the old lady to Montelusa. Everythings taken
care of.
Listen, Gallll your brother-in-law to be in the general
vicinity of headquarters after Lapras funeral tomorrow.
And tell him to bring a cameraman.
Thanks, Chief, with all my heart.
Fazio!
Im listening.
It completely slipped my mind. Did you go to Mrs.
Lapras apartment?
Sure did. And I took a small cup from a set of twelve.
Ive got it over there. You wanna see it?
What the hell for? Tomorrow Ill tell you what to do
with it. For now, put it in a cellophane bag. Oh, and, did Jacomuzzi
send you the knife?
Yessirree.
He didnt have the courage to leave the office. At home the
hard part awaited him. Livias sorrow. Speaking of which, if
Livia was leaving, then . . . He dialed Adelinas number.
AdelMontalbano here. Listen, the young ladys leaving
tomorrow morning; I need to recuperate. And you know
what? I havent eaten a thing all day.
One had to live, no?
15
Livia was on the veranda, sitting on the bench, utterly still,
and seemed to be looking out at the sea. She wasnt crying,
but her red, puffy eyes said that shed used up her supply of
tears. The inspector sat down beside her, took one of her
hands, and squeezed it. To Montalbano it felt as if hed picked
up something dead; he found it almost repulsive. He let it go
and lit a cigarette. Livia, hed decided, should know as little as
possible about the whole affair. But it was clear shed given
the matter some thought, and her question went right to the
point.
Do they want to harm him?
Actually harm him, probably not. Make him disappear
for a while, yes.
How?
I dont know. Maybe by putting him in an orphanage
under a false name.
Why?
Because he met some people he wasnt supposed to
meet.
Still staring at the sea, Livia thought about Montalbanos
last words.
I dont understand.
What dont you understand?
If these people Frans met are Tunisians, perhaps illegal
immigrants, couldnt you, as policemen
Theyre not only Tunisian.
Slowly, as if making a great effort, Livia turned and
faced him.
Theyre not?
No. And Im not saying another word.
I want him.
Who?
Frans. I want him.
But, Livia
Shut up. I want him. No one can take him away from
me like that, you least of all. Ive thought long and hard
about this, you know, these last few hours. How old are you,
Salvo?
Forty-four, I think.
Forty-four and ten months. In two months youll be
forty-five. Ive already turned thirty-three. Do you know
what that means?
No. What what means?
Weve been together for six years. Every now and then
we talk about getting married, and then we drop the subject.
We both do, by mutual, tacit consent. And we dont resume
the discussion. We get along so well just the way things are,
and our laziness, our egotism, gets the better of us, always.
Laziness? Egotism? What are you talking about? There
are objective difficulties which
which you can stick up your ass, Livia brutally concluded.
Montalbano, disconcerted, fell silent. Only once or twice
in six years had Livia ever used obscenities, and it was always
in troubling, extremely tense circumstances.
Im sorry, Livia said softly. But sometimes I just cant
stand your camouflage and hypocrisy. Your cynicism is more
authentic.
Montalbano, still silent, took it all in.
Dont try to distract me from what I want to say to you.
Youre very good at it; its your job. What I want to know is:
when do you think we can get married? Give me a straight
answer.
If it was only up to me...
Livia leapt to her feet.
Thats enough! Im going to bed. I took two sleeping
pills and my plane leaves Palermo at noon tomorrow. But
first I want to finish what I have to say. If we ever get married,
itll be when youre fifty and Im thirty-eight. In other
words, too late to have children. And we still havent realized
that somebody, God or whoever is acting in His place, has already
sent us a child, at just the right moment.
She turned her back and went inside. Montalbano stayed
outside on the veranda, gazing at the sea, but unable to bring
it into focus.
An hour before midnight, he made sure Livia was sleeping
profoundly, then he unplugged the phone, gathered together
all the loose change he could find, turned off the lights, and
went out. He drove to the telephone booth in the parking lot
of the Marinella Bar.
Nicolontalbano here. A couple of things. Tomorrow
morning, around midday, send somebody along with a
cameraman to the neighborhood of police headquarters.
There are some new developments.
Thanks. What else?
I was wondering, do you have a very small videocam-
era, one that doesnt make any noise? The smaller the better.
You want to leave posterity a document of your
prowess in bed?
Do you know how to use this camera?
Of course.
Then bring it to me.
When?
As soon as youve finished your midnight news report.
But dont ring the doorbell when you get here, Livias
asleep.
Hello, is this the prefect of Trapani? Please excuse me for
calling so late. This is Corrado Menichelli of the Corriere della
Sera. Im calling from Milan. We recently got wind of an extremely
serious development, but before publishing our report
on it, we wanted to confirm a few things with you
personally, since they concern you directly.
Extremely serious? What is this about?
Is it true that pressure was put on you to accommodate
a certain Tunisian journalist during his recent visit to
Maz? I advise that you think a moment before answering,
in your own interest.
I dont need to think for even a second! the prefect
exploded. What are you talking about?
Dont you remember? Thats very odd, you know, since
this all happened barely three weeks ago.
None of this ever happened! No pressure was ever put
on me! I dont know anything about any Tunisian journalists!
Mr. Prefect, we have proof that
You cant have proof of something that never happened!
Let me speak immediately to the editor-in-chief !
Montalbano hung up. The prefect of Trapani was sincere;
the head of his cabinet, on the other hand, was not.
Valente? Montalbano here. I just spoke with the prefect of
Trapani; I was pretending to be a reporter for the Corriere
della Sera. He doesnt know anything. The whole thing was
set up by our friend, Commendator Spadaccia.
Where are you calling from?
Not to worry. Im calling from a phone booth. Now
heres what we should do next, providing that you agree.
To tell him, he spent every last piece of change but one.
MimMontalbano here. Were you sleeping?
No, I was dancing. What the fuck did you expect?
Are you mad at me?
Hell, yes! After the position you put me in!
Me? What position?
Sending me to take away the kid. Livia looked at me
with hatred. I had to tear him out of her arms. It made me
feel sick to my stomach.
Whered you take Frans?
To Calapi, to my sisters.
Is it safe there?
Very safe. She and her husband have a great big house
with a farm, three miles from the village, very isolated. My
sister has two boys, one of them the same age as Frans.
Hell be fine there. It took me two and a half hours to get
there, and two and a half to drive back.
Tired, eh?
Very tired. I wont be in tomorrow morning.
All right, you wont be in, but I want you at my house,
in Marinella, by nine at the latest.
What for?
To pick Livia up and drive her to the Palermo airport.
Okay.
How come youre suddenly not so tired anymore, eh,
Mim
Livia was now having a troubled sleep, groaning from time to
time. Montalbano closed the bedroom door, sat down in the
armchair, and turned on the television at very low volume.
On TeleVig, Galluzzos brother-in-law was saying that the
Foreign Ministry in Tunis had issued a statement regarding
some erroneous information about the unfortunate killing of
a Tunisian fisherman aboard an Italian motor trawler that had
entered Tunisian waters. The statement denied the wild rumors
according to which the fisherman was not, in fact, a
fisherman, but the rather well-known journalist Ben Dhahab.
It was an obvious case of two men with the same name, since
Ben Dhahab the journalist was alive and well and still working.
In the city of Tunis alone, the statement went on to say,
there are more than twenty men named Ben Dhahab. Montalbano
turned off the television. So the tide had started to
turn, and people were running for cover, raising fences, putting
up smoke screens.
He heard a car pull up and stop in the clearing in front of the
house. The inspector rushed to the door to open up. It was
Nicol
I got here as fast as I could, he said, entering.
Thanks.
Livias asleep? the newsman asked, looking around.
Yes. Shes leaving for Genoa tomorrow morning.
Im so sorry I wont have a chance to say good-bye
to her.
Nicolid you bring the videocamera?
The newsman reached into his jacket pocket and pulled
out a gadget no larger than four packs of cigarettes stacked
two by two.
Here you are. Im going home to bed.
No youre not. First you have to hide this somewhere it
wont be visible.
How am I going to do that, if Livias sleeping in the
next room?
Nicol dont know why youve got it into your head
that I want to film myself fucking. I want you to set up the
camera in this room.
Tell me what it is you want to film.
A conversation between me and a man sitting exactly
where you are now.
Nicoloked straight ahead and smiled.
Those shelves full of books seem like they were put
there for that very purpose.
Taking a chair from the table, he set it next to the bookcase
and climbed up on it. He shuffled a few books, set up the
camera, sat back down where he was before, and looked up.
From here you cant see it, he said, satisfied. Come
and check for yourself.
The inspector checked.
That seems fine.
Stay there, said Nicol
He climbed back up on the chair, fussed about, and got
back down.
Whats it doing? asked Montalbano.
Filming you.
Really? It makes no noise at all.
I told you the things amazing.
Nicolpeated his rigmarole of climbing onto the chair
and stepping back down. But this time he had the camera in
his hand and showed it to Montalbano.
Heres how you do it, Salvo. To rewind the tape, you
press this button. Now bring the camera up to your eye and
press this other button. Go ahead, try.