IM8 The Patience of the Spider (2007)

by Andrea Camilleri

  No, thank you, said Minutolo.

  Yes, please, Id like a daiquiri, said Montalbano. The lawyer gave him a befuddled look. Actually, I dont Never mind, the inspector conceded, gesturing as if

  brushing away a fly.

  As the lawyer was easing himself onto the sofa, Minutolo shot a dirty look at Montalbano, as if to tell him to stop clowning around.

  So, shall I speak first, or do you want to ask questions? You speak first, said Minutolo. All right if I take notes? asked Montalbano, sticking his

  hand in his jacket pocket, which contained nothing whatsoever. No! Why do you need to do that? Luna burst out. Minutolos eyes implored Montalbano to stop making

  trouble. Okay, okay, said the inspector, conciliatory. Where were we? asked the lawyer, confused. We hadnt started yet, said Montalbano. Luna surely noticed the mockery, but pretended not to.

  Montalbano understood that the lawyer understood, and so decided to knock it off. Oh, yes. Well, around ten a.m. on the day after the ab

  duction, my client received an anonymous phone call. When?! Minutolo and Montalbano asked in unison. Around ten a.m. on the day after the abduction. You mean barely fourteen hours after? asked Minutolo,

  still bewildered.

  Exactly, the lawyer continued. A mans voice informed him that, since the abductors were aware that the Mistrettas were not in a position to pay the ransom, for all intents and

  purposes they considered him the only person who could satisfy their demands. They said they would call back at three in the afternoon. My client . . . (Every time he said my client he made the kind of face a nurse might make when wiping the sweat off her moribund patients forehead) . . . rushed here to see me. We quickly came to the conclusion that my client had been skillfully cornered. And that the kidnappers were holding all the cards. If they wanted to drag him into this, there wasnt much we could do about it. Shirking his responsibility to the girl would gravely damage his reputation, which had already been harmed by a few unpleasant episodes. And it might irreparably compromise his political ambitions. Which I think has already happened, unfortunately. He was supposed to be on the ticket in the next elections, in a district where he would have been a shoo-in.

  No point in asking with what party, said Montalbano, looking up at a photo of Berlusconi in a jogging outfit.

  Yes, no point indeed, the lawyer said sternly, then continued. I gave him some suggestions. The kidnappers called back at three. When asked, at my suggestion, for proof that the girl was alive, they replied that this would soon be broadcast on TeleVig. Which in fact is exactly what happened. They asked for six billion lire. They wanted my client to buy a new cell phone and go immediately to Palermo, without telling anyone, except his bankers. One hour later they called back for the cell phone number. My client had no choice but to obey, and withdrew the six billion in record time. On the evening of the following day, they called again, and he told them he was ready to pay. But since then, inexplicably, he has received no further instruction, as I said on TV.

  Why didnt Peruzzo authorize you to make that statement any earlier than this evening?

  Because the kidnappers had warned him against any such action. He was not to grant any interviews or make any statement at all, but to disappear for a few days.

  And did they withdraw the warning?

  No. My client decided to take the initiative himself, which is extremely risky ...But he cant stand it any longer...especially after that cowardly attack on his wife, and after his trucks were torched.

  Do you know where Peruzzo is now? No. Do you know his cell phone numberthe new one? No. How do you stay in touch? He calls me. From a public phone. Does he have email? Yes, but he left his computer at home. Thats what they

  told him to do, and he has obeyed.

  In short, are you telling us that any freeze of his assets would be useless at this point, since Peruzzos already got the ransom money on him?

  Exactly. Do you think hell phone you the moment he knows

  where and when hes supposed to deliver the ransom? What for? Are you aware that if he did, you would be legally obli

  gated to inform us at once? Of course I am. And Im ready to do as required. Except

  that my client wont be calling me, or at least not until its all been taken care of.

  Minutolo had asked all the questions. This time Montalbano decided to speak.

  What size?

  I dont understand, said the lawyer.

  What size bills did they want?

  Ah, yes. Five-hundred euros.

  Strange. Big bills. Easier to carry around, but much harder to spend.

  Do you know if your client . . . (the lawyer made the nurse-face) . . . managed to write down the serial numbers?

  I dont know.

  The lawyer looked at his gold Rolex and grimaced.

  And there you have it, he said, standing up.

  They stopped to chat a moment outside the lawyers house.

  Poor Peruzzo, the inspector said by way of comment. He tried to cover his ass immediately. Hed pinned his hopes on a quick kidnapping, so people wouldnt find out, whereas

  Thats one thing that has me worried, said Minutolo. And he began to clarify: From what the lawyer said, if the kidnappers immediately contacted Peruzzo

  almost twelve hours before they made their first phone contact with us, Montalbano cut in, then they played us like puppets at the puppet theater. Because those guys were playacting with us. They knew from the very first moment whom

  they wanted to force to pay the ransom. Theyve made the two of us waste a lot of time, and theyve made Fazio lose sleep. Theyre smart. In the final analysis, the messages they sent to the Mistretta home were scenes from an old script, more than anything else. They showed us what we wanted to see, told us what we expected to hear.

  Based on what the lawyer said, Minutolo resumed, the kidnappers theoretically had the situation under control less than twenty-four hours after the abduction. One call to Peruzzo, and he would turn over the money. Except that they never got back to him. Why? Had they run into trouble? Maybe the men we have out scouring the countryside are hampering their freedom of movement? Maybe we should let up a little?

  What are you afraid of, exactly?

  That if those guys feel threatened, theyll do something stupid.

  Youre forgetting one basic thing.

  What?

  That the kidnappers have remained in contact with the television stations.

  So why wont they get in touch with Peruzzo?

  Because they want him to stew in his own juices first, said the inspector.

  But the more time passes, the greater their risk!

  Theyre well aware of that. And I think they also know theyve played out the string as far as itll go. Im convinced its only a matter of hours before Susanna goes home.

  Minutolo looked befuddled.

  What! This morning you didnt seem at all

  This morning the lawyer hadnt yet spoken on television and hadnt yet used an adverb he repeated when speaking to us. He was shrewd. He indirectly told the kidnappers to stop playing games.

  Excuse me, said Minutolo, completely confused, but what adverb did he use?

  Inexplicably.

  And what does it mean?

  It means that he, the lawyer, knew the explanation perfectly well.

  I havent understood a goddamned thing.

  Forget it. What are you going to do now?

  Report to the judge.

  13

  Livia wasnt at home. The table was set for two people, and beside her plate was a note.

  Ive gone to the movies with my friend. Wait for me to eat

  dinner.

  He went and took a shower, then sat down in front of the television. The Free Channel was showing a debate on Su- sannas abduction, with Nicol moderator. Taking part in the discussion were a monsignor, three lawyers, a retired judge, and a journalist. Half an hour into the program, the debate openly turned into a kind of trial
of Antonio Peruzzo. Or, more than a trial, an out-and-out lynching. When all was said and done, nobody believed what Luna the lawyer had said. None of those present seemed convinced by the story that Peruzzo had the money ready and was only waiting to hear from the suddenly silent kidnappers. Logically speaking, it was in their interest to get their hands on the money as quickly as possible, free the girl, and disappear. The more time they wasted, the greater the risk. And so? It seemed natural to think that the person responsible for the delay in Susannas liberation was none other than Peruzzo himself, whoas the

  monsignor insinuatedwas dragging things out trying to extract some miserable little discount on the ransom. The way he was acting, would he get any discount when he appeared before God on Judgment Day? In conclusion, it seemed clear that, once the girl was freed, a change of scene was Peruzzos only option.

  Talk about political ambitions gone up in smoke! He wasnt even welcome anymore in Montelusa, Vig, or environs.

  This time the clack at three twenty-seven and forty seconds woke him up. He realized his brain was clear and functioning perfectly, and took advantage of this to review the entire kidnapping case, starting from Catarellas first phone call. He stopped thinking around five-thirty, when he suddenly began to feel sleepy. As he was sinking into unconsciousness, the telephone rang and, luckily, Livia didnt hear it. The clock said five forty-seven. It was Fazio, who was very excited.

  Susannas been freed. Oh, really? How is she? Fine. See you later, Montalbano concluded. And he went back to bed. He told Livia the news the moment she began to move in

  bed, showing the first signs of waking up. She leapt out of bed

  and onto her feet, as if shed seen a spider between the sheets. When did you find out? Fazio called. It was around six. Why didnt you tell me immediately?

  Was I supposed to wake you up?

  Yes. You know how anxiously Ive been following this whole ordeal. You let me keep sleeping on purpose!

  If thats the way you want to see it, fine, I admit my guilt, end of subject. Now calm down.

  But Livia felt like making trouble. She eyed him with disdain.

  And I dont understand how you can lie there in bed, instead of going to see Minutolo to get more information, to find out

  To find out what? If you want more information, turn on the TV.

  Sometimes your indifference drives me crazy!

  She went and turned on the television. Montalbano, for his part, locked himself in the bathroom and took his time. Obviously to get on his nerves, Livia kept the volume high. As he was drinking his coffee in the kitchen, he could hear angry voices, sirens, screeching tires. He could barely hear the telephone when it rang. He went into the dining room. Everything was vibrating from the infernal noise emanating from the set.

  Livia, would you please turn that down?

  Muttering to herself, Livia obeyed. The inspector picked up the receiver.

  Montalbano? Whats wrong, arent you coming?

  It was Minutolo.

  What for?

  Minutolo seemed stunned.

  Er ...I dunno ...I thought youd be pleased . . .

  Anyway, I have the impression youre under siege.

  Thats true. There are dozens of journalists, photographers, and cameramen outside the gate...I had to call in reinforcements. The judge and the commissioner should be here soon. Its a mess.

  Hows Susanna doing?

  A bit the worse for wear, but basically all right. Her uncle examined her and found her in good physical condition.

  How was she treated?

  She said they never once made a violent gesture. On the contrary.

  How many were there?

  She saw only two hooded men. Obviously peasants.

  How did they release her?

  She said that last night, when she was sleeping, they woke her up, made her put on a hood, tied her hands behind her back, took her out of the vat, and made her get in the trunk of a car. They drove for over two hours, she said. Then the car stopped. They made her get out, had her walk for half an hour, then loosened the knots around her wrists and made her sit down. Then they left.

  And they never spoke to her at any point during all this?

  Never. It took her a while to free her hands and remove the hood. It was pitch-black outside. She hadnt the slightest idea where she was, but she didnt lose heart. She managed to get her bearings and headed in the direction of Vig. At some point she realized she was near La Cucca, you know, that village

  Yeah, I know. Go on.

  Its a little over two miles from her villa. She walked the distance, arrived at the gate, rang the bell, and Fazio went and let her in.

  All according to script, in other words. What do you mean? I mean they keep enacting the same drama that weve

  become accustomed to seeing. A sham performance. The real show they put on for one spectator alone, Antonio Peruzzo, and they asked him to join in. Then there was a third show aimed at the general public. How was Peruzzo? Did he play his part well?

  Frankly, Montalbano, I dont understand what youre

  saying. Have you succeeded in getting in touch with Peruzzo? Not yet. So what happens next? The judge is going to hear Susannas story, then this after

  noon therell be a press conference. Arent you going to come? Not even if you put a gun to my head.

  He was barely in the doorway to his office when the phone rang.

  Chief? Theres some jinnelman onna line says hes the moon. So, tinkin hes makin some kinda joke, I says Im the sun. He got pissed off. I tink hes insane.

  Put him on. What did the devoted nurse want from him? Inspector Montalbano? Good morning. This is Francesco

  Luna, the lawyer.

  Good morning, sir. What can I do for you?

  First of all, my compliments on your receptionist.

  Well, sir, you see

  Pay them no mind, but look and move on, as the poet says. Lets drop it. Im calling you only to remind you that your pointless, offensive sarcasm yesterday, toward myself and my client, was inexcusable. You know, I have the misfortune, or good luck, of having an elephants memory.

  Because you, sir, ARE an elephant, the inspector wanted to say, but he managed to restrain himself.

  Please explain what you mean, sir.

  Yesterday evening, when you and your colleague came to my house, you were convinced my client would not pay the ransom, whereas, as you have seen

  Excuse me, but youre mistaken. I was convinced that your client, like it or not, would pay the ransom. Have you managed to get in touch with him?

  He phoned me last night, after doing what he needed to do. What people expected of him.

  Can we talk to him?

  He doesnt feel up to it yet. Hes just been through a terrible ordeal.

  You mean the ordeal of three million euros in bills of five hundred?

  Yes. Three million, stuffed in a suitcase or a duffel bag, Im not sure which.

  Do you know where they told him to drop the money off?

  Well, they phoned him yesterday evening around nine and described in minute detail a road he was supposed to take

  to a small overpass, the only one there is along the road to Brancato. With hardly any traffic. Under the overpass, he would find a sort of little well covered by a lid that could be easily lifted. All he needed to do was put the suitcase or duffel inside, close it back up, and leave. My client arrived on the spot shortly before midnight. He did exactly as he was ordered to do, then quickly went away.

  Thank you, Mr. Luna. Excuse me, Inspector. I want to ask a favor of you. What kind of favor? I would like you to help us resuscitate my clients reputa

  tion, which has been so gravely compromised. And this you can do by honestly saying exactly what you know. Not one word more, not one word less.

  May I ask who the other resuscitators are?

  Myself, Inspector Minutolo, all the engineers friends from within and without the partyin short, everyone whos had a chance to know

&n
bsp; If the opportunity presents itself, Ill be sure to do so. I appreciate it. The telephone rang again. Chief, iss Doctor Latte with an S at the end. That is, Dr. Lattes, chief of the commissioners cabinet, a

  churchgoing, cloying sort of man, subscriber to the LOsserva-

  tore Romano, and known informally as Caffattes. My dear Inspector! How are you doing? I cant complain. Let us thank the Blessed Virgin! And hows the family? What a pain in the ass! He had got it in his head that the

  inspector had a family, and there was no way to shake him out

  of this conviction. If he ever found out that Montalbano was

  a bachelor, the shock might be lethal.

  Fine, thanking the Blessed Virgin.

  Well, on behalf of Commissioner Bonetti-Alderighi, Im inviting you to attend the press conference that will be held at Montelusa Central Police at five-thirty this evening, concerning the felicitous outcome of the Mistretta kidnapping. The commissioner would like to make it clear, however, that only your attendance is being requestedthat is, you will not be asked to speak.

  Thank the Blessed Virgin, Montalbano muttered under his breath.

  What was that? I didnt hear.

  I said I was wondering something. As you know, Im still convalescing, and was called back into service only because

  I know, I know. And so?

  So could I be exempted from attending the press conference? Im a bit tired out.

  Lattes couldnt hide how happy the inspectors request made him. Montalbano was always considered a loose cannon at these official functions.

  But of course! Of course! Take good care of yourself, dear friend. But consider yourself on duty until further notice.

  Surely someone had already thought of writing The Perfect In- vestigators Handbook. It had to exist, since there was, after all, a Junior Woodchucks Guidebook. And it was certainly written by Americans, who were capable of publishing handbooks on how to put buttons in buttonholes. Montalbano, however, had

  never seen such a handbook. Nevertheless, somewhere in such a book the writer must surely recommend that the sooner the investigator inspects a crime scene, the better. That is, before the elementsrain, wind, sun, man, animalsso alter the scene that the telltale signs, already barely perceptible, become indecipherable.