IM4 The Voice of the Violin (2003)

by Andrea Camilleri

  'And he told you he was only kidding about the shoe, it was all a joke.'

  'Exactly. Therefore it's true.'

  'Listen, I'm going home now, and I think I'll stay there for the rest of the afternoon. Give me a ring if you need me.'

  'Chief, you gotta do something.' 'Get off my fucking back, all of you!'

  After the bridge, he drove straight on. He didn't feel like hearing again, this time from Anna, that he absolutely had to take action. By what right? Here's your fearless, flawless knight in shining armour! Here's your Robin Hood, your Zorro, your Night Avenger all in one: Salvo Montalbano!

  His appetite was gone now. He filled a saucer with green and black olives, cut himself a slice of bread, and, while munching on these, dialled Zito's number.

  'Nicolo? Montalbano here. Do you know if the commissioner has called a press conference?'

  'It's set for five o'clock this afternoon.'

  'You going?'

  'Naturally.'

  'You have to do me a favour. Ask Panzacchi what kind of weapon Maurizio Di Blasi threatened them with. Then after he tells you, ask him if he can show it to you.'

  What's behind this?'

  I'll tell you in due time.'

  'Can I tell you something, Salvo? We're all convinced here that if you'd stayed on the case, Maurizio Di Blasi would still be alive.'

  So Nicolo was jumping aboard, too, behind Mimi.

  'Would you go and get fucked!'

  'Thanks, I could use a little, it's been a while. By the way, we'll be broadcasting the press conference live.'

  He went and sat on the veranda with the book by Denevi in his hands, but he was unable to read it. A thought was spinning round and round in his head, the same one he'd had the night before: what strange, anomalous thing had he seen or heard during his visit to the house with the doctor?

  The press conference began at five on the dot. Bonetti-Alderighi was a maniac for punctuality ('It's the courtesy of kings,' he used to repeat whenever he had the chance, his noble lineage having apparently gone so far to his head that he now imagined it with a crown on top).

  There were three of them seated behind a small table covered with green cloth: the commissioner in the middle, flanked by Panzacchi on the right and Dr Lattes on the left. Behind them, the six policemen who had taken part in the operation. While the faces of the policemen were grave and drawn, those of the three chiefs expressed moderate contentment -- only moderate because somebody had been killed.

  The commissioner spoke first, limiting himself to praising Ernesto Panzacchi ('a man with a brilliant future ahead of him') and briefly taking credit for having-assigned the case to the captain of the Flying Squad, who had managed to solve it in twenty-four hours, when others, with their antiquated methods, would have taken untold days and weeks.'

  Montalbano, sitting in front of the screen, took it all in without reacting, not even mentally.

  Then it was Ernesto Panzacchi's turn to speak, and he repeated exactly what the inspector had heard the Tele-Vigata newsman say earlier. He didn't dwell on the details, however, and seemed in rather a hurry to leave.

  'Does anyone have any questions?' asked Dr Lattes.

  Somebody raised a hand.

  'Are you sure the suspect shouted "Punish me"?' 'Absolutely certain. He said it twice. They all heard it.'

  He turned to the six policemen behind him, who nodded in agreement, looking like puppets on strings.

  'And in a desperate tone of voice.' Panzacchi piled it on. 'Desperate.'

  'What is the rather accused of?' asked a second journalist.

  'Being an accessory after the fact,' said the commissioner.

  'And maybe more' added Panzacchi with an air of mystery.

  'Being an accomplice to murder?' ventured a third newsman.

  'I didn't say that,' Panzacchi said curtly. Finally Nicolo Zito signalled that he wanted to speak. 'What kind of weapon did Maurizio Di Blasi threaten you with?'

  Of course, the journalists, who had no idea what had actually happened, didn't notice anything, but the inspector distinctly saw the six policemen stiffen and the half-smile on Captain Panzacchi's face vanish. Only the commissioner and the head of his cabinet had no perceptible reaction.

  'A hand grenade' said Panzacchi.

  'Where did he get it?' Zito pressed him.

  'Well, it was war surplus, but still functioning. We have a suspicion as to where he might have found it, but we need further confirmation'

  'Could we see it?'

  'The forensics lab has it'

  And so ended the press conference.

  At six thirty Montalbano called Livia. The phone rang a long time to no avail He started to feel worried. What if she was sick? He called Giovanna, Livia's friend at work. She said Livia'd shown up at work as usual, but she, Giovanna, had noticed she looked very pale and nervous. Livia also told her she'd unplugged the telephone because she didn't want to be disturbed.

  'How are things between the two of you?' Giovanna asked him.

  'Not great, I'd say,' Montalbano replied diplomatically.

  No matter what he did -- whether he read a book or stared out at the sea smoking a cigarette -- the question kept coming suddenly back to him, precise and insistent: what had he seen or heard at the house that hadn't seemed right?

  'Hello, Salvo? It's Anna. I've just come from Mrs Di Blasi's. You were right to tell me to go there. Her family and friends have made a point of not coming round -- you know, keeping their distance from someone with a husband in jail and a son who's a murderer.'

  'How is Mrs Di Blasi?'

  'How do you expect? She's had a breakdown; I had to call a doctor. Now she's feeling a litde better; her husband's lawyer phoned saying he'd be released shortly.'

  'They're not charging him with complicity?'

  'I really can't say. I think they're going to charge him anyway, but release him on bail Are you coming round?'

  'I don't know, I'll see.'

  'Salvo, you've got to do something. Maurizio was innocent, I'm sure of it, and they murdered him.' 'Anna, don't get any wild ideas.'

  'Hullo, Chief ? Zatchoo in poisson? Catarella here. The vikkim's huzbin called sayin' as how yer sposta call 'im poissonally at the Jolly t'nite roundabout ten aclack.'

  'Thanks. How'd the first day of class go?'

  'Good, Chief, good. I unnastood everyting. Teacha complimented me. Said peoples like me's rilly rare.'

  An inspiration came to him shortly before eight o'clock, and he put it into action without wasting another minute. He jumped in the car and drove off in the direction of Montelusa.

  'Nicolo's on the air' said a secretary at the Free Channel studios, 'but he's almost finished.'

  Less than five minutes later, Zito appeared, out of breath.

  'I did what you said; did you see the press conference?'

  'Yes, Nicolo, and I think we hit the mark.'

  'Can you tell me why that grenade is so important?'

  'Do you underestimate grenades?'

  'Come on, tell me what's behind this'

  'I can't, not yet. Actually, you'll probably work it out very soon, but that's your business. I haven't told you anything'

  'Come on! What do you want me to say or do on the news? That's what you came here for, isn't it? By now you've become my secret director.'

  'If you do it, I'll give you a present.'

  He took one of the photos of Michela that Dr Licalzi had given him out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Nicolo.

  'You're the only journalist who knows what the woman looked like when she was alive. The commissioner's office in Montelusa doesn't have any photos. All her IDs, driver's licence, or passport, if she had one, were in the bag that the murderer took with him. You can show this to your viewers if you want'

  Nicolo twisted up his face.

  'You must want an awfully big favour. Fire away'

  Montalbano stood up, went over, and lacked the door

  to the newsman's offic
e.

  'No,' said Nicolo.

  'No what?'

  'No to whatever it is you're going to ask me. If you need to lock the door, I don't want any part of it.'

  'Look, if you give me a hand, afterwards I'll give you all the facts you need to create a nationwide uproar.'

  Zito said nothing. He was clearly torn,

  'What do you want me to do?' he finally asked in a low voice.

  'To say you received phone calls from two witnesses.' 'Do they exist?'

  'One does, the other doesn't.' j

  'Tell me only what the one who exists said.' 'No, both. Take it or leave it'

  'But you do realize that if anybody finds out I invented a witness they're liable to strike me off the register?'

  'Of course. And in that case, I give you permission to say I talked you into it. That way, they'll send me home, too, and we can go and grow broad beans together.'

  'Tell you what. Tell me about the fake one first If the thing seems feasible, you can tell me about the real one afterwards.'

  'OK. This afternoon, following the press conference, somebody phoned you saying he was out hunting in the area where the police shot down Maurizio Di Blasi. He said that things did not happen the way Panzacchi said.

  Then he hung up without leaving his name. He was clearly upset and afraid You tell your viewers you're mentioning this episode only in passing and nobly declare that you don't lend it much weight, since it was, in fact, an anonymous phone call and your professional ethics do not allow you to spread anonymous rumours.'

  'And in the meantime I've actually repeated it.'

  'But isn't that standard procedure for you guys, if you don't mind my saying so? Throwing the stone but keeping the hand hidden?'

  'I'll tell you something about that when we're through. For now, let's hear about the real witness.'

  'His name is Gillo Jacono, but you're to give only his initials, G.J., nothing more. This gentleman, shortly after midnight last Wednesday, saw the Twingo pull up by the house in Tre Fontane, and saw Michela and an unidentified man get out of the car and walk quietly towards the house. The man was carrying a suitcase. Not an overnight bag, a suitcase. Now, the question is this: why did Maurizio Di Blasi bring a suitcase when he went to rape Mrs Licalzi? Did it maybe contain clean sheets in the event they soiled the bed? Also: did the Flying Squad find this suitcase anywhere? It was certainly nowhere inside the house.'

  Is that it?'

  'That's it,'

  Nicolo had turned chilly. Apparently Montalbano's criticism of journalistic methods hadn't gone down well with him.

  'As for my professional ethics, this afternoon, following the press conference, I received a phone call from a hunter who told me that things had not happened the way the police said. But since he wouldn't give me his name, I didn't report it.'

  'You're shitting me.'

  'Let me call my secretary, and you can listen to the tape recording of the call,' said the journalist, standing up. Tm sorry, Nicolo. There's no need.'

  ELEVEN

  Montalbano tossed about in bed all night, unable to fall asleep. He kept seeing the scene of Maurizio falling to the ground and managing to throw his shoe at his tormentors, the simultaneously comical and desperate gesture of a poor wretch hunted down like an animal. 'Punish me!' he had cried out, and everyone rushed to interpret that exclamation in the most obvious, reassuring manner possible. That is, punish me because I raped and killed, punish me for my sin. But what if, at that moment, he had meant something else entirely? What was going through his head? Punish me because I'm different, punish me because I loved too much, punish me for being born ... One could go on for ever, but here the inspector stopped himself, both because he didn't like to slip into cheap philosophizing, and because he had suddenly understood that the only way to exorcize that obsessive image, and that cry, lay not in generic self-questioning but in examining the facts. To do this, one path, and only one, presented itself. And at this point he managed at last to shut his eyes for a couple of hours.

  'All of you,' he said to Mimi Augello, entering headquarters.

  Five minutes later, they were all standing before him in his office.

  'Make yourselves comfortable,' said Montalbano. 'This is not an official meeting, but a talk among friends.'

  Mimi and two or three others sat down, while the rest remained standing. Grasso, Catarella's replacement, leaned against the door frame, listening for the phone.

  'Yesterday, Inspector Augello, when he learned that Di Blasi had been killed, said something that hurt me. He said, more or less: if you'd remained on the case, today that kid would still be alive. I could have answered that it was the commissioner who'd taken the investigation away from me, and that therefore I bear no responsibility. And this, strictly speaking, is true. But Inspector Augello was right. When the commissioner summoned me and ordered me to stop investigating the Licalzi murder, pride got the better of me. I didn't protest, I didn't rebel, I basically gave him to understand that he could go and fuck himself. And in so doing, I gambled away a man's life. Because one thing's certain, none of you would ever have shot down some poor guy who wasn't right in the head.'

  They'd never heard him speak this way before and everyone looked at him flabbergasted, holding their breath.

  'I thought about this last night, and I made a decision. I'm going to resume the investigation.'

  Who was it that applauded first? Montalbano managed to turn his emotion into sarcasm.

  'I've already told you once you're a bunch of fucking idiots, don't make me say it again.' And he continued, The case, as of today, is closed. Therefore, if you're all in agreement, we're going to operate underwater, with only our periscope showing. But I'm warning you: if they find out about this in Montelusa, it could mean real trouble for every one of us.'

  Inspector Montalbano? This is Emanuele Licalzi.'

  Montalbano remembered that Catarella had told him the night before that the doctor had called. He'd forgotten.

  Tm sorry, but yesterday evening I had---'

  'Oh, not at all, Inspector. Especially since everything has changed since yesterday.'

  In what sense?'

  In the sense that late yesterday afternoon I'd been assured that by Wednesday morning I could leave for Bologna with my poor Michela. Then early this morning the commissioner's office phoned to tell me that they needed a postponement and the funeral would have to wait until Friday. So I've decided to leave and come back on Thursday evening.'

  'Doctor, you must have heard, of course, that the investigation--'

  'Yes, of course, but I wasn't referring to the investigation. Do you remember the car we mentioned briefly, the Twingo? Could I perhaps talk to someone about reselling it?'

  'Tell you what, Doctor: I'll have the car brought myself to our own personal mechanic We did the damage ourselves and it's only right we should pay for it. And if you like, I could ask the mechanic to try and find a buyer for it.'

  'You're a fine man, Inspector.'

  'But tell me something, sin what will you do with the house?'

  Tm going to put that up for sale, too.'

  'Nicolo here. QED.' 'Explain.'

  'I've been summoned to appear before Judge Tommaseo at four o'clock this afternoon''

  'And what's he want from you?'

  'You've got a lot of nerve! What, you get me into this mess and you can't figure it out? He's going to accuse me of having withheld valuable testimony from the police.

  And if he ever finds out that I don't even know who one of the witnesses is, then the shit is really going to hit the fan. That man is liable to throw me in jail' Keep me posted.'

  'Right. You can come visit me once a week and bring me oranges and cigarettes.'

  'Listen, Galluzzo, I'm going to need your brother-in-law, the newsman for TeleVigata.'

  'I'll tell him right away, Inspector.'

  Galluzzo was on his way out of the room, but curiosity got the better of him.

 
'Actually, if it's something I can know about too...'

  'Gallu, not only can you know it, you've got to know it I need your brother-in-law to collaborate with us on the Licalzi story. Since we can't work out in the open, we must take advantage of any help the private TV stations can give us. But we have to make it look like they're acting on their own. Is that clear?'