Authors: Andrea Camilleri
Montalbano did as he was told and saw a very tiny image
of himself ask in a microscopic voice: Whats it doing?
Then he heard Nicolvoice say, Filming you.
Fantastic, the inspector said. Theres one thing,
though. Is that the only way to see what youve filmed?
Of course not, Nicolplied, taking out a normal-
looking videocassette that was made differently inside.
Watch what I do. I remove the tape from the videocamera,
which as you can see is as small as the one in your answering
machine, and I slip it inside this one, which is made for this
purpose and can be used in your VCR.
Listen, to make it record, what do I do?
Push this other button.
Seeing the inspectors expression, which looked more
confused than convinced, Nicolew doubtful.
Will you be able to use it?
Come on! replied Montalbano, offended.
Then why are you making that face?
Because I cant very well climb onto a chair in front of
the guy I want to film. It would make him suspicious.
See if you can reach it by standing on tiptoe.
He could.
Then its simple. Just leave a book out on the table, then casually
put it back on the shelf, meanwhile pressing the button.
Dear Livia,
Unfortunately I cant wait for you to wake up. I have to
go to Montelusa to see the commissioner. Ive already arranged
to have Mimome and take you to the airport. Please try to
be as calm and untroubled as possible. Ill phone you this evening.
Kisses,
salvo
A traveling salesman of the lowest rank would have expressed
himself with more affection and imagination. He
rewrote the note and, strangely, it came out exactly the same
as the previous one. Nothing doing. It wasnt true that he
had to see the commissioner; he merely wanted to skip the
good-byes. It was therefore a big fat lie, and he had never
been able to tell one directly to someone he respected. Little
fibs, on the other hand, he was very good at. And how.
At headquarters he found Fazio waiting for him, upset.
Ive been trying to call you at home for the last half
hour. You mustve unplugged the telephone.
Whats the problem?
Some guy called saying he accidentally found the dead
body of an old woman in Villaseta, on Via Garibaldi, in the
same house where we caught the little kid. Thats why I was
looking for you.
Montalbano felt something like an electric shock.
Tortorella and Galluzzo have already gone there. Galluzzo
just called and said it was the same old lady he took to
your house.
Aisha.
The punch Montalbano gave himself in the face wasnt
hard enough to knock out his teeth, but it made his lip bleed.
What the hell are you doing, Chief ? said Fazio, flabbergasted.
Aisha was a witness, of course, just like Frans. But the
inspectors eyes and attention had all been on the kid. A
fucking idiot, thats what he was. Fazio handed him a handkerchief.
Here, clean yourself up.
Aisha was a twisted little bundle at the foot of the stairs that
led up to Karimas room.
She apparently fell and broke her neck, said Dr.
Pasquano, whod been summoned by Tortorella. But Ill be
able to tell you more after the autopsy. Although to send an
old lady like this flying, youd only need to blow on her.
And wheres Galluzzo? Montalbano asked Tortorella.
He went to Montelusa to talk to a Tunisian woman the
deceased was staying with. He wanted to ask her why the old
lady came back here, to find out if anybody had called her.
As the ambulance was leaving, the inspector went inside
Aishas house, lifted a stone next to the fireplace, took out the
bank book, blew the dust off, and put it in his pocket.
Chief !
It was Galluzzo. No, nobody had called Aisha. Shed
simply decided to go home. She woke up one morning, took
the bus, and did not miss her appointment with death.
Back in Vig, before going to headquarters, he stopped in at
the office of a notary named Cosentino, whom he liked.
What can I do for you, Inspector?
Montalbano pulled out the bank book and handed it to
the notary, who opened it, glanced at it, and asked:
So?
The inspector launched into an extremely complicated
explanation; he wanted him to know only half the story.
What I think youre saying, the notary summarized,
is that this money belongs to a woman you presume to be
dead, and that her son, a minor, is her only heir.
Right.
And youd like for this money to be tied up in some
way, so that the child could only enter into possession when
he comes of age.
Right.
But why dont you simply hold on to the booklet yourself,
and when the time comes, turn it over to him?
What makes you think Ill still be alive in fifteen years?
I see, said the notary. He continued: Lets do this: you
take the book back with you, Ill give the matter some
thought, and lets talk again in a week. It might be a good
idea to invest that money.
Its up to you, said Montalbano, standing up.
Take the book back.
You keep it. I might lose it.
Then wait and Ill give you a receipt.
If youd be so kind.
One more thing.
Tell me.
You must be absolutely certain, you know, that the
mother is dead.
From headquarters, he phoned home. Livia was about to
leave. She gave him a rather chilly good-bye, or so it seemed
to him. He didnt know what to do about it.
Is Mimhere yet?
Of course. Hes waiting in the car.
Have a good trip. Ill call you tonight.
He had to move on, not let Livia tie him up.
Fazio!
At your command.
Go to the church where Lapras funeral is being
held. It mustve already started by now. Bring Gallo along.
When people are expressing their condolences to the widow,
I want you to approach her and, with the darkest look you
can muster up, say: Signora, please come with us to police
headquarters. If she starts to make a scene, starts screaming
and shouting, dont hesitate to use force to put her in the
squad car. And one more thing: Lapras son is sure to be
there in the cemetery. If he tries to defend his mother, handcuff
him.
ministry of transportation and automobile
registration:
concerning the extremely sensitive investigation
of homicide of two women names karima and
aisha absolutely must know personal particulars
and address of owner of automobile license plate
am 237 gw stop please reply promptly stop signed
salvo montalbano vigata police montelusa
province.
At the Automobile Registration office, before passing the
fax on to the person in charge, they were sure to have a laugh
at his expense and think him some kind of idiot for the way
he formulated his request. But the person in charge, for his
part, would understand the gambit, the challenge hidden in
the message, and be forced to make a countermove. Which
was exactly what Montalbano wanted.
16
Montalbanos office was located at the opposite end of the
building from the entrance to police headquarters, and yet he
still heard all the shouting that broke out when Fazios car arrived
with the widow Lapra inside. Though there were
hardly any journalists or photographers around, dozens of idlers
and rubberneckers must have joined their modest number.
Signora, why were you arrested?
Look over here, signora!
Out of the way! Out of the way!
Then there was relative calm and someone knocked at
his door. It was Fazio.
Howd it go?
She didnt put up much resistance. But she got upset
when she saw the journalists.
What about the son?
There was a man standing next to her in the cemetery,
and everyone was expressing their condolences to him too, so
I thought he must be the son. But when I told the widow she
had to come with us, he turned his back and walked away. So
I guess he wasnt her son.
Ah, but he was, Fazio. Too sensitive to witness his
mothers arrest. And terrified that he might have to pay her
legal fees. Bring the lady in here.
Like a thief, thats how youre treating me! Just like a
thief ! the widow burst out as soon as she saw the inspector.
Montalbano made a dark face.
Did you mistreat the lady?
As if reading from a script, Fazio pretended to be embarrassed.
Well, since we were arresting her
Who ever said you were arresting her? Please sit down,
maam, I apologize for the unpleasant misunderstanding. I
wont keep you but a few minutes, only as long as it takes to
draw up a report of your answers to a few questions. Then
you can go home and thatll be the end of it.
Fazio went and sat down at the typewriter, while Montalbano
sat behind his desk. The widow seemed to have
calmed down a little, although the inspector could see her
nerves jumping under her skin like fleas on a stray dog.
Signora, please correct me if Im wrong.You told me, as
youll remember, that on the morning of your husbands
murder, you got out of bed, went into the bathroom, got
dressed, took your purse from the dining room, and went
out. Is that right?
Absolutely.
You didnt notice anything abnormal in your apartment?
What was I supposed to notice?
For example, that the door to the study, contrary to custom,
was closed?
Hed taken a wild guess, but was right on the mark. Initially
red, the womans face blanched. But her voice remained
steady.
I think it was open, since my husband never closed it.
No, it was not, signora. When I entered your home
with you, upon your return from Fiacca, the door was closed.
I reopened it myself.
What does it matter if it was open or closed?
Youre right, its a meaningless detail.
The widow couldnt help heaving a long sigh.
Signora, the morning your husband was murdered, you
left for Fiacca to visit your ailing sister. Right?
Thats what I did.
But you forgot something, and for that reason, at the
Cannatello junction, you got off the bus, waited for the next
bus coming from the opposite direction, and returned to
Vig. What did you forget?
The widow smiled; apparently shed prepared herself for
such a question.
I did not get off at Cannatello that morning.
Signora, I have statements from the two bus drivers.
Theyre right, except for one thing. It wasnt that
morning, but two mornings before. The bus drivers got their
days wrong.
She was shrewd and quick. He would have to resort to
trickery.
He opened a drawer to his desk and took out the kitchen
knife in its cellophane bag.
This, signora, is the knife that was used to murder your
husband. With only one stab wound, in the back.
The widows expression didnt change. She didnt say a
word.
Have you ever seen it before?
You see so many knives like that.
Very slowly, the inspector again slipped his hand into the
drawer, and this time he withdrew another cellophane bag,
this one with a small cup inside.
Do you recognize this?
Did you take that yourselves? You made me turn the
house upside down looking for it!
So its yours. You officially recognize it.
Of course I do. What use could you have for that cup?
Its going to help me send you to jail.
Of all the possible reactions, the widow chose one that,
in a way, won the inspectors admiration. In fact, she turned
her head towards Fazio and politely, as if paying a courtesy
call, asked him:
Has he gone crazy?
Fazio, in all sincerity, would have liked to answer that in
his opinion the inspector had been crazy since birth, but he
said nothing and merely stared out the window.
Now Ill tell you how things went, said Montalbano.
That morning, hearing the alarm clock, you got up and
went into the bathroom. You necessarily passed by the door
to the study, which you noticed was closed. At first you
thought nothing of it, then you reconsidered. And when you
came out of the bathroom, you opened it. But you didnt go
in, at least I dont think you did. You waited a moment in the
doorway, reclosed the door, went into the kitchen, grabbed
the knife, and put it in your purse. Then you went out, you
caught the bus, you got off at Cannatello, you got on the bus
to Vig, you went back home, you opened the door, you
saw your husband ready to go out, you argued with him, he
opened the door to the elevator, which was on your floor because
youd just used it. You followed behind him, you
stabbed him in the back, he turned halfway around, fell to the
ground, you started the elevator, you reached the ground
floor, and you got out. And nobody saw you. That was your
great stroke of luck.
But why would I have done it? the woman asked
calmly. And then, with an irony that seemed incredible at that
moment and in that place: Just because my husband had
closed the door to his study?
Montalbano, from a seated position, bowed admiringly
to her.
No, signora; because of what was behind that closed
door.
And what was that?
Karima, your husbands mistress.
But you said yourself that I didnt go into the room.
You didnt need to, because you were assailed by a
cloud of perfume, the very stuff that Karima wore in abundance.
Its called VoluptIt has a strong, persistent scent.
Youd probably smelled it before from time to time on your
husbands clothes. It was still there in the study, less strong, of
course, when I went in that evening, after you came home.
The widow Lapra remained silent; she was thinking
over what the inspector had just said.
Would you answer me one question? she then asked.
As many as you like.
Why, in your opinion, didnt I go into the study and kill
that woman first?
Because your brain is as precise as a Swiss watch and as fast
as a computer. Karima, seeing you open the door, would have
put herself on the defensive, ready for anything. Your husband,
hearing her scream, would have come running and disarmed
you with Karimas help. Whereas by pretending not to notice
anything, you could wait and catch him in the act a little later.