August Heat

by Andrea Camilleri

  Once in the car, he admonished Gallo, 'We're in no hurry this time. Drive slowly.'

  'Tell me how fast you want me to go, Chief.' 'Twenty miles per hour, max.'

  'Twenty? Chief, I don't even know how to drive at twenty miles an hour. I'm liable to crash into something. What do you say we go thirty-five, forty?'

  'Okay.'

  Everything went smoothly until they turned off the main road and onto the track leading to the house. In front of the rustic cottage, a dog ran in front of them. To avoid it, Gallo swerved and nearly crashed into the front door, shattering an earthenware jug beside it.

  'You've broken something,' said Montalbano.

  As they were getting out of the car, the cottage door opened and a peasant of about fifty appeared, wearing shabby clothes and a dirty beret.

  'What happened?' asked the man, turning on the small light over the door.

  'We broke your jug and wanted to compensate you for the damage,' said Gallo, in perfect Italian.

  Then something strange happened. The man looked at the patrol car, turned round, extinguished the light, went back into the cottage and locked the door. Gallo looked puzzled.

  'He saw the police car’ said Montalbano. 'Apparently he doesn't like us. Try knocking.'

  Gallo knocked. Nobody came to the door.

  'Hey! Is anyone at home?'

  Nobody answered.

  'Let's get out of here,' said the inspector.

  Laura and Livia had laid the table on the terrace. The evening was so beautiful it was heartbreaking. The heat of the day had mysteriously given way to a restorative cool, and the moon floating over the sea was so bright that they could have eaten by its light alone.

  The two women had prepared a simple meal, since they'd gone late to Enzo's where they had stuffed themselves.

  As they were sitting round the table, Guido told the others what had transpired that morning between himself and the peasant from the rustic cottage.

  'As soon as I said a little boy had disappeared, he said, "Ooh no," and ran and shut himself up in the house. I knocked and knocked, but he wouldn't open the door.'

  So it's not just the police he has problems with, thought the inspector. But he didn't say anything about the nearly identical treatment he had received.

  After they'd eaten, Guido and Laura suggested everyone go for a walk on the beach in the moonlight. Livia declined, and so did Montalbano. Luckily, Bruno chose to go with his parents.

  After they'd been sitting for a while in the deck-chairs, enjoying a silence broken only by the purring of Ruggero, who was luxuriating on the inspector's lap, Livia said, 'Would you take me to where you found Bruno? Since we've been back, Laura has forbidden me to go and look at it.'

  'All right. Let me fetch a torch. There's one in the car.'

  'Guido must have one somewhere. I'll see if I can find it.'

  They met in front of the excavated window, each with a torch in hand. Montalbano climbed over the sill first, checked to make sure there weren't any rats, then helped Livia inside. Naturally, Ruggero hopped in after them.

  'Unbelievable!' said Livia, gazing at the bathroom.

  The air was damp and heavy. The only window through which any clean air could enter was not enough to ventilate the space. They went into the room where the inspector had found Bruno.

  'You'd better not go any further, Livia. It's a swamp.'

  'The poor child! He must have been so scared!' said Livia, heading for the living room.

  In the torch beams they saw the window frames, wrapped in plastic. Montalbano noticed a rather large trunk pushed up against a wall. Overcome with curiosity — since it wasn't locked — he opened it.

  At that moment he looked exactly like Cary Grant in Arsenic and Old Lace. He slammed the lid shut and sat on top of it. When the beam from Livia's torch shone on his face, he smiled automatically.

  'What are you smiling about?'

  'Me? I'm not smiling.'

  'So why are you making that face?'

  'What face?'

  'What's in the trunk?' Livia asked. 'Nothing. It's empty.'

  How could he possibly have told her there was a corpse inside?

  FOUR

  When Guido and Laura returned from their romantic stroll along the moonlit beach, it was past eleven. 'That was amazing!' Laura exclaimed enthusiastically. 'I really needed that after a day like today.'

  Guido was a little less enthusiastic, given that halfway through their walk, Bruno had suddenly become very sleepy, and he'd had to carry him the rest of the way.

  Ever since he'd sat down in the deck-chair after his visit to the phantom apartment with Livia, Montalbano had been beset by a dilemma worse than Hamlet's: to tell or not to tell? If he told them there was an unidentified corpse downstairs, indescribable chaos would break out and the rest of the night would be hell, or almost. It was more than certain, in fact, that Laura would adamantly refuse to spend one minute more under that roof and demand to sleep somewhere else.

  But where? At Marinella there wasn't even a guest room. They would have to camp out. And how would they do that? He imagined how they would work things out, with Laura, Livia and Bruno in the double bed, Guido on the sofa, and himself in the armchair. He shuddered.

  No, that was no solution. Better a hotel. But where, at midnight, in Vigata, would they find one that was still open? Maybe Montelusa was a better bet. Which would mean phone call after phone call, back and forth in the car to and from Montelusa to keep their friends company and, as icing on the cake, the inevitable all-night argument with Livia.

  'But why did you have to choose that house?' 'Livia darling, how was I to know there was a dead body in it?'

  'How were you to know? What kind of policeman are you, anyway?'

  No, he decided, it was better, for now, to say nothing to anyone.

  After all, God only knew how long the corpse had been in the trunk. One day more or one day less wasn't going to make any difference. Nor would it affect the investigation.

  Having said goodbye to their friends, then, Livia and the inspector headed back to Marinella.

  The moment Livia went for a shower, Montalbano, from the terrace, called Fazio on his mobile phone, keeping his voice down. 'Fazio? Montalbano here.'

  'What's wrong, Chief?'

  'I haven't time to explain. In ten minutes I want you to call me at home and say you need me urgently at the station.'

  'Why? What's happened?'

  'Don't ask questions. Just do as I say.'

  'And what do I do afterwards?'

  'You hang up and go back to sleep.'

  Five minutes later Livia emerged from the bathroom and Montalbano went in. As he was brushing his teeth, he heard the phone ring. As expected, Livia went to pick it up. This would make the scene he had staged more credible.

  'Salvo, Fazio's on the phone!'

  He went into the dining room with his toothbrush still in his mouth, lips frothing with paste, muttering to himself for Livia's benefit as she glared at him: 'Can't I ever have a little peace and quiet, even at this hour?' He grabbed the phone and said gruffly, 'What is it?'

  'You're needed at the station.'

  'Can't you guys handle it? ... No? Okay, okay, I'll be right there.'

  He slammed down the receiver, feigning anger. 'Won't they ever grow up? Why do they always need Daddy's help? I'm sorry, Livia, but, unfortunately I—'

  'I understand,' said Livia, in a tone straight from the polar ice-caps. 'I'm going to bed.'

  'Will you wait up for me?'

  'No.'

  He got dressed, went outside, got into the car and headed for Marina di Montereale. He drove extremely slowly: he wanted to waste as much time as possible, to be more or less certain that Laura and Guido had gone to bed.

  When he got to Pizzo, he went as far as the second house — the uninhabited but well-maintained one — stopped and got out with his torch. He travelled the remaining stretch of the track on foot, afraid that if he came any c
loser with the car, the sound, in the night's stillness, might wake his friends.

  No light shone in any of the windows, a good sign that Laura and Guido were well on their way to Dreamland.

  With a light step he sidled up to the window that served as a door, climbed over the sill and went in. Then he turned on the torch and moved towards the living room.

  He lifted the trunk's lid. The corpse was barely visible, having been wrapped several times in the same sheets of plastic that had been used to seal off the secret apartment, then bound in brown packing tape wound many times around the bundle. It looked like a cross between a mummy and a giant parcel ready for shipping.

  He shone the torch closer and realized, from what he could see, that the body was fairly well preserved. Apparently the plastic had created a vacuum, not allowing even a trace of the terrible stench of death to leak out. Forcing himself to look harder, he noticed a great deal of long blonde hair on and around the head. The face, on the other hand, he couldn't make out, because it had been wrapped twice with the brown tape.

  It was a woman, that much was clear.

  There was nothing more to see or do. He closed the trunk, left the apartment, walked back to his car, and drove home.

  He found Livia in bed but still awake. She was reading a book. 'Darling, I got back as quickly as I could. I'll just have the shower I wasn't able to—'

  'Go on, hurry. Don't waste any more time.'

  When Livia came out of the bathroom at nine o'clock the following morning, she found Montalbano on the veranda.

  'What? Are you still here? You told me you had to go to the station to deal with that business of last night’

  'I've changed my mind. I'm going to take half a day's holiday. I'm coming with you to Pizzo to spend the morning with you and your friends.'

  'Oh, goody!'

  By the time they got there Laura, Guido and Bruno were ready to go down to the beach. Since they had decided to spend the whole day outside, Laura had filled some baskets with food.

  But how and when — the inspector wondered anxiously in the meantime — should he break the good news to them?

  It was Guido who helped him out. 'Did you phone the people at the agency to tell them about the illegal apartment?'

  'Not yet.'

  'Why not?'

  'Because I'm afraid they might raise your rent, since you now have another apartment at your disposal.'

  He was trying to make a joke of it, but Livia intervened: 'Come on, what are you waiting for? I want to see the look on the face of the guy who let it to you.'

  And I can't wait to see yours in a Jew minutes! thought Montalbano. But he said, 'Well, there's a major complication.'

  'What?'

  'Could you send Bruno away for a minute?' Montalbano asked Laura under his breath.

  She gave him a puzzled look, but did as he said. 'Bruno, will you do Mummy a little favour? Go into the kitchen and fetch another bottle of mineral water from the fridge.'

  The others stared at him, their curiosity aroused by his question. 'So?'

  When Bruno had gone, he said, 'The fact is, I found a dead body. A woman's.'

  'Where?' Guido asked.

  'In the apartment downstairs. In the living room. Inside a trunk.'

  'Are you joking?' asked Laura.

  'No, he's not,' said Livia. 'I know him well. Did you discover it last night when we went down there?'

  Bruno returned with a bottle.

  'Go and get another!' they said in unison.

  The child set the bottle on the floor and ran off.

  'And you,' said Livia, who was beginning to understand what was happening, 'let my friends spend the night here with a dead body in the house?'

  'Come on, Livia! It's downstairs! It's not contagious!'

  All of a sudden Laura let out the siren wail that had become her speciality.

  Ruggero, who had been sunning himself atop the terrace wall, high-tailed away. Bruno returned, put the second bottle on the floor and ran to get another without anyone having asked him.

  'You bastard!' Guido said angrily, and followed his wife, who had run weeping into the bedroom.

  'But I did what I thought was best!' said Montalbano, trying to justify himself in Livia's eyes.

  She stared at him disdainfully. 'When Fazio phoned you last night, you had already arranged with him to provide you with an excuse to go out, hadn't you?'

  'Yes.'

  'And did you come back here to have a better look at the corpse?' ‘Yes.'

  'And afterwards you made love to me! You're an animal! A brute!'

  'But I had a shower so that—' 'You're repulsive!'

  She got up, leaving him standing there, and went into her friends' bedroom. She returned about five minutes later, cold as ice. 'They're packing their bags.'

  'What about the plane tickets?'

  'Guido decided not to stay any longer. They'll drive. Take me back to Marinella. I need to pack, too, because I'm going with them.'

  'Oh, Livia, be reasonable!'

  'I don't want to hear another word!'

  It was hopeless. On the drive back to Marinella, she didn't open her mouth and Montalbano didn't dare. As soon as they arrived, Livia threw her things helter-skelter into her suitcase, then went out and sat on the veranda with a long face.

  'Would you like me to make you something to eat?'

  'You only ever think of two things.'

  She didn't say what those two things were, but Montalbano understood what she'd meant.

  Around one o'clock, Guido arrived to pick up Livia. Also in the car was Ruggero, with whom Bruno had apparently refused to part. Guido handed the house keys to Montalbano, but did not shake his hand. Laura kept her head turned away, Bruno blew him a raspberry, and Livia wouldn't even kiss him goodbye.

  Rejected and abandoned, Montalbano watched them leave with a heavy heart. But also, deep down, a sense of relief.

  The first thing he did was phone Adelina.

  'Adeli, Livia had to go back to Genoa. Can you come tomorrow morning?'

  'Yes, Signore. I could come in a couple of hours if you like.'

  'That's all right, there's no need.'

  'No, Signore, I'ma going to come anyways. I can just imagina mess Miss Livia lefta house in!'

  There was a little bit of hard bread in the kitchen. Montalbano ate it with a slice of tumazzo cheese he found in the fridge. Then he went to bed and fell asleep.

  When he woke up it was four o'clock. He could hear, from the tinkle of plates and glasses in the kitchen, that Adelina had already arrived. 'Could you bring me a cup of coffee, Adeli?'

  'Straight away, Signore.'

  When she brought the coffee she was scowling. 'Madonna mia! The plates was all covered with grease an' I even foun' a pair o' dirty unnerpants in the bat'room!'

  Now, in reality, if there was a fanatically neat woman in the world it was Livia. But in Adelina's eyes, she had always seemed like someone whose ideal was to live in a pigsty.

  'But I told you she had to leave in a hurry’ 'You have a fight? You break up?' 'No, we didn't.'

  Adelina seemed disappointed and went back to the kitchen.

  Montalbano got up to make a phone call. 'Aurora estate agency? Inspector Montalbano here. I'd like to speak with Mr Callara’

  'Trying to connect you,' replied a woman's voice.

  'Inspector? Good afternoon, what can I do for you?'

  'Are you in the office for the day?'

  'Yes, I'll be here till we close. Why?'

  'I'll be around in half an hour to return the keys to the beach house.'

  'What? Weren't they supposed to stay until—'

  'Yes, but my friends were forced to leave this morning. A sudden death’

  'Listen, Inspector, I don't know if you read the contract

  'I glanced at it. Why?'

  'Because it states clearly that the client gets nothing back in the event of an early departure.'

  'Did I ask for anything ba
ck, Mr Callara?'

  'Ah, okay. Well, then, don't bother coming here yourself. I'll send someone down to the station to pick up the keys.'

  'I need to talk to you and then show you something.' 'Come whenever you like.'

  'Catarella? Montalbano here.'

  'I already rec'nized ya in as much as yer voice is all yours, Chief.'

  'Any news?'

  'No, sir, Chief, nuttin'. 'Xcept fer Filippo Ragusano — you know him, Chief, he's a one wherats is got a shoe store by the church, and 'e shot 'is brother-'n-law Gasparino Manzella.'

  'Did he kill him?'

  'Nossir, Chief, jes' grazed 'im.'

  'Why did he shoot him?'

  'Says Gasparino Manzanella was gettin on 'is noives since it was rilly hot 'n' all an' a fly was walkin' on 'is 'ead, which rilly bugged 'im an' so 'e shot 'im.'

  'Fazio there?'

  'Nossir, Chief. 'E went out by the iron bridge 'cause some guy busted 'is wife's 'ead out that way.'

  'Okay. I wanted to tell you—'

  'But there's somethin' else happened.'

  'Oh, yes? I was somehow under the impression that nothing had. What did?'

  'What happened izzat Corporeal 'Tective Alberto Virduzzo went into a muddy locality and slipped wit' both 'is legs in the mud that was there, breakin' one o' the legs aforesaid. Gallo took 'im to the hospitable.'

  'Listen, I wanted to tell you that I'll be late coming in.

  'You're the boss, Chief

  Mr Callara was busy with a client. Montalbano stepped outside to smoke a cigarette in the open air. It was so hot that the asphalt was melting; his shoes stuck to it. Once Callara was free, he came out to meet Montalbano. 'Please come into my office, Inspector. I've got air-conditioning.'

  Which Montalbano hated. Never mind.

  'Before I take you to see something—'

  'Where do you want to take me?'

  'To the house you let to my friends.'

  'Why? Is anything wrong? Something broken?'

  'No, everything's fine. But I think you should come.'

  'As you wish.'

  'I believe I remember you saying, when you took me to see the house, that a man who had emigrated to Germany had built it. A certain Angelo Speciale, who had married a German widow, whose son — Ralf, I think you said — had come here with his stepfather, then mysteriously disappeared on their way back to Germany. Is that correct?'