August Heat

by Andrea Camilleri

  Montalbano and Fazio looked at each other in astonishment.

  'What does that mean?' asked the inspector.

  'You don't know what being a virgin means? Well, you must know that women who haven't yet—'

  'You know perfectly well what I was referring to, Doctor.' Montalbano didn't feel like joking. Pasquano said nothing. 'If the girl died a virgin, it means the motive for the murder was not what we thought.'

  'Did you know you're an Olympic champion?'

  Montalbano looked dumbfounded. 'Explain yourself

  'You're a champion in the hundred-metre sprint.'

  'Why?'

  'You're running too hard, my friend. Going too fast. It's not your job to reach an immediate conclusion. What's happening to you?'

  What's happened to me is that I've grown old, thought the inspector, and I want to reach a quick conclusion on a case that's been weighing on me.

  'So,' Pasquano resumed, 'I can confirm that, at the moment she was killed, the girl was in the position I said she was in.'

  'Then explain to me why the murderer made her assume it, after having forced her to strip, if he wasn't going to screw her?'

  'Since we haven't found any clothes, we can't know whether the killer forced her to strip before he killed her or stripped her himself afterwards. Anyway, the question of her clothes is unimportant, Montalbano.'

  'You think so?'

  'Of course! As unimportant as the fact that he wrapped up the body and put it in the trunk.' 'He didn't do it to hide her?'

  'Do you know, Montalbano, you don't seem to be on very good form?'

  'Maybe it's my age, Doctor.'

  'What? The killer's going to take the trouble to put the body into a trunk while leaving a puddle of blood as big as a lake a couple of yards away?'

  'Well, then, why, in your opinion, did he put her in the trunk?'

  'With all the murders you've handled, you're asking me? To hide her from himself, my dear inspector, not from us! It's a sort of concrete, immediate repression of reality!'

  Pasquano was right. How often had they come across amateur murderers who covered the victim's face, especially if it was a woman, with the first thing that came to hand, a rag, a towel, a sheet?

  'You have to start with the only incontrovertible thing we've got,' the doctor continued, 'which is the girl's position when the killer cut her throat. If you concentrate a little, you'll see that—'

  'I understand what you're trying to say.'

  'If you finally understand, then tell me.'

  'That maybe the killer, at the final moment, was no longer able to rape her, and so, in the throes of uncontrollable rage, he pulled out the knife—'

  'Which, as they tell us in psychoanalysis, is a substitute for the penis. Very good.'

  'Did I pass the exam?'

  'Well, there may be another hypothesis,' Pasquano continued.

  'What would that be?'

  'That the killer sodomized her.'

  'My God,' Fazio muttered.

  'What?' The inspector rebelled. 'You fill my ears with idle chatter for half an hour and only deign to tell me at the end what you should have told me at the start?'

  'It's just that I wasn't one hundred per cent sure. I wasn't able to establish the fact with any real certainty. Too much time has passed. But, based on a few very small signs, I would lean towards the affirmative. Mind you, I said I would lean. Conditional mood.'

  'So, in short, you don't feel you could go from the conditional to another grammatical mood such as the present indicative?'

  'Frankly, no.'

  'It keeps getting worse and worse,' Fazio said bitterly, when the inspector hung up.

  Montalbano remained pensive.

  Fazio continued, 'Chief, do you remember when you said to me that when you catch the killer, you want to smash his face in?'

  'Yes. And I reiterate the promise.'

  'Can I join the party?'

  'You're perfectly welcome to. Did you summon Dipasquale?'

  'For six o'clock this evening, after he gets off work.' As Fazio was leaving the room, the telephone rang again.

  'Chief ? Iss Proxecutor Dommaseo onna line.' 'Put him on,' said Montalbano. Then, to Fazio, 'You listen, too,' and he turned the speaker back on. 'Montalbano?' 'Judge?'

  'I wanted to let you know that I've been to the Morreale home to give them the terrible news.' His voice was sorrowful, emotional.

  'Very well done, sir.'

  'It was awful, you know.'

  'I can imagine.'

  Tommaseo, however, wanted to tell him about his ordeal.

  'Poor Signora Francesca, the mother, fainted. And the father, you wouldn't believe it, he was wandering about the house, talking to himself, and could hardly stand on his own two legs.'

  Tommaseo was waiting for a comment from Montalbano, who obliged him. 'Poor things!'

  'They'd been hoping, for all these years, that their daughter was still alive ... What's the expression? That hope...'

  .. is always the last thing to die’ Montalbano finished his sentence, obliging him again and cursing to himself for having had to use a cliche.

  'That's so true, dear Montalbano.'

  'So they were in no condition to identify the body.'

  'No, it was identified, anyway.' The dead girl is indeed Caterina Morreale!'

  Montalbano and Fazio looked at each other in bewilderment. Why had Tommaseo suddenly pulled out this twittering voice that sounded as if it was coming from a little bird? It wasn't a pleasant matter he had dealt with, after all.

  'I made a point of taking Adriana myself in my car,' Tommaseo continued.

  'Wait a second. Who's Adriana?'

  'What do you mean, "Who's Adriana"? Wasn't it you who told me the victim had a twin sister?'

  Montalbano and Fazio looked at each other in disbelief. What was the man talking about? Maybe he was trying to turn the inspector's trick against him.

  'You were right’ Tommaseo continued, his tone now of excitement, as if he'd just hit the jackpot. 'The girl is absolutely gorgeous!'

  That explained the twittering.

  'She studies medicine at Palermo — did you know? Mostly, she's a really strong girl with a lot of character, even though, after identifying the body, she had a little crisis and I had to comfort her.'

  One could only imagine just how ready the good prosecutor had been to comfort her with every means at his disposal.

  They said goodbye and hung up.

  'But that's not possible!' said Fazio. 'You must have known there was a twin sister!'

  'I swear to you I didn't. But it's an important thing to know. The victim probably confided in her. Could you telephone the Morreale home and ask if I can drop in tomorrow morning around ten?'

  'Even though it's the fifteenth of August?'

  'Where do you think they're going to go? They're in mourning.'

  Fazio went out and came back five minutes later. 'Adriana herself answered the phone. She said it's probably better if you don't go to their place. Her parents are very upset and they're not in any condition to talk. She suggested she come here, to the station, at the same time tomorrow morning.'

  As the inspector was waiting for Dipasquale, he phoned the Aurora estate agency. 'Mr Callara? Montalbano here.'

  'Is there any news, Inspector?'

  'I haven't any. How about you?'

  'Yes.'

  'I bet you informed Signora Gudrun Speciale about the illegal floor we discovered.'

  'Good guess! I called her the moment I had recovered a little from the shock I got opening that trunk. Damn my curiosity!'

  'What can you do, Signor Callara? That's the way it goes, unfortunately.'

  'I've always been curious. You know, once when I was a little boy—'

  'But you were telling me about your phone call to Signora Gudrun...' The last thing he needed was Signor Callara's childhood memories.

  'Ah, yes. But I didn't tell her about the poor girl who was killed.'
>
  'You were right not to. What did Signora Gudrun decide?'

  'She instructed me to take the necessary steps to obtain the amnesty and to send her the papers so she can sign them.'

  'That sounds like the most sensible thing.'

  'Yes, but then she faxed me a letter telling me that afterwards I'm to sell it. But do you know? I've got half a mind to buy that house myself. What do you think?'

  'You're the estate agent. I'm sure you'll make the right decision. Goodbye.'

  'Wait. There's more. When I was honestly advising her not to sell the house...' honestly in the sense that, if she sold it, Callara would lose his percentage of the rent '... she said that she didn't want to hear another word about it.'

  'Did you ask her why?'

  'Yes. She said she'd write to me about it. And just this morning a fax came in explaining why she wants to sell. I think it might be of interest to you.'

  'To me?'

  'Yes. She says her son, Ralf, is dead.' 'What?'

  'Yes, they found his remains about two months ago.'

  'His remains? You mean he died a long time ago?'

  'Yes. Apparently he died on his way back to Cologne with Mr Speciale. She even sent a German newspaper clipping with a translation.'

  'When can I see it?'

  'This evening, when I close the office. I'll come to the station and drop it off with the man at the desk’

  And why had it taken them six years to find this other body, or what remained of it?

  ELEVEN

  The look Dipasquale gave the inspector as he entered the office was more surly than ever.

  'Please sit down.'

  'Will this take long?'

  'As long as is needed. Mr Dipasquale, before we talk about the house in Pizzo, I'd like to ask you, now that I've got you here, where and how I might find the watchman of the construction site in Montelusa.'

  'Are you still stuck on that damned business about the Arab? Inspector Lozupone himself—'

  Montalbano pretended he hadn't heard his colleague's name. 'Tell me where I can find him. And give me his full name again. You told me last time, but I've forgotten it since I didn't write it down. Fazio, be sure to make a note of this.'

  'Inspector.'

  Not bad, as improvised theatre.

  'Inspector, I'll tell the watchman you want to talk to him. His name's Filiberto Attanasio.'

  'I'm sorry, but how are you going to contact him when the site is closed?'

  'He's got a mobile phone.'

  'Please give me the number.'

  'It doesn't work. The other night ... the other day, I mean, it fell on the ground and broke.' 'Okay, so tell him in person.'

  'AH right, but I should warn you, he won't be able to come for two or three days.' 'Why not?'

  'He's had an attack of malaria.'

  They must have scared the watchman pretty comprehensively.

  'Tell you what, when he's feeling better, tell him to give us a call. Now, back to us. I asked you to come in because this morning I questioned two masons, named Dalli Cardillo and Micciche, who worked on the house in Pizzo—'

  'Inspector, don't waste your breath. I know exactly what happened.' 'Who told you?'

  'Spitaleri. Micciche went into his office acting as if he was out of his mind and punched him so hard he gave him a bloody nose. He was convinced Spitaleri wanted to set him up. The man oughta be caged with wild animals!

  Well, he can start begging now, 'cause he won't find it easy to get any more work as a mason.'

  'Spitaleri's not the only builder in town,' said Fazio.

  'Maybe, but all it'll take is a word from me or Spitaleri—'

  'To have him on the streets?'

  'You said it.'

  'I shall make a note of what you just told me and take proper action,' said Montalbano.

  'What does that mean?' asked Dipasquale, alarmed. More than the threatening tone, what frightened him most was the inspector's use of correct Italian.

  'It means that you said, in our presence, that you will see to it that Micciche remains unemployed. You threatened a witness.'

  'Witness? What witness? I think you mean witless.''

  'You will not speak to me in that fashion!'

  'Anyway, if I'm threatening him, it's not for what he said here but for punching Spitaleri!'

  Quick and clever, was the foreman.

  'For now, let's not get away from the subject. Spitaleri told us that work on the Pizzo house ended on the twelfth of October. Which you confirmed. But the work didn't end until the morning of the following day, as we found out from Micciche.'

  'What's the difference?'

  'That's for us to decide. Spitaleri could not have known that the work had carried over into the next day because he'd already left. But did you know?' 'Yes.'

  'In fact, wasn't it you yourself who made the decision to prolong it?' 'Yes.'

  'Why didn't you tell us?' 'It slipped my mind.' 'Are you sure?'

  'Anyway, last time I came in, you didn't tell me about the girl that was killed.'

  He was trying to counterattack, the idiot.

  'Dipasquale, we're not here to play "you tell me one thing, and I'll tell you another". At any rate, when you walked in you already knew, of course, about the dead girl, because Spitaleri had told you about her. And yet you acted as if nothing had happened.'

  'What was I supposed to say? Nothing.'

  'No, no! You did say something.'

  'What?'

  'You tried to create an alibi for yourself. You said that four days before the work in Pizzo was completed, Spitaleri sent you to Fela to start on a new site. So why is it that, on the eleventh and twelfth of October, in the afternoon, you were at Pizzo and not in Fela?'

  Dipasquale didn't even try to come up with an excuse. 'Inspector, you've got to understand. I was really scared when Spitaleri told me about the dead body so I made up that story about being sent to Fela. But I knew that sooner or later you'd find out it was a lie.'

  'Then tell us exactly what happened.'

  'Well, at eleven o'clock I went into that damned apartment. I wanted to see if it was damp or if there was any seepage. I even went into the living room, but I didn't see nothing strange.'

  'What about the next day, the twelfth?'

  'I went back there in the afternoon. I told Micciche not to dismantle the tunnel. Then he left and I stayed another half-hour to wait for Mr Speciale.'

  'Did you go inside to check everything?'

  'Yessir. An' everything was in order.'

  'In the living room, too?' asked Fazio.

  'In the living room, too.'

  'And then?'

  'Finally Mr Speciale arrived.' 'How did he come?'

  'By car. He'd rented it when he got here.'

  'Was his stepson with him?'

  'Yessir.'

  'What time was it?' 'Probably around four.' 'Did you go downstairs?' 'All three of us.' 'How could you see?'

  'I had a powerful torch. And Mr Speciale had one, too. Mr Speciale checked everything very closely. He's a very fussy man. A stickler. Then I asked him if we could close up the passage and level the ground, and he said okay. He gave one last look, and then we went outside, Mr Speciale and me. We said goodbye, and I left.' 'What about Ralf?'

  'The boy asked his stepfather for the torch and stayed downstairs.'

  'To do what?'

  'Dunno. He just liked being underground. He looked at all the wrapped-up window frames and laughed. Didn't I tell you he was crazy?'

  'So, when you left, Speciale and Ralf stayed behind in Pizzo?'

  'That's where I left 'em. Anyway, Mr Speciale had the keys to the apartment, which was habitable.'

  'Do you remember more or less what time it was when you left?'

  'Around five.'

  'Why did you wait until nine o'clock that night to inform Micciche that he could take down the tunnel?'

  'I phoned him at least three times, and there was never any answer. I didn't
reach him till the evening.'

  It made sense. Micciche and his wife had spent the afternoon and early evening at Montelusa hospital.

  'What did you do after you left Pizzo?'

  Dipasquale gave a slight chuckle. 'You want an alibi?'

  'You'll be better off if you've got one.'

  ‘I have. I went into Mr Spitaleri's office. He was supposed to be ringing us — the secretary and me — between six and eight o'clock.'

  'But he hadn't landed in Bangkok,' said Fazio.

  'Of course not. But the flight was making a stop in some place whose name I can't remember. Spitaleri knows the route. He goes to those places often.'

  'Did he ring?'

  'Yes.'

  'Was it an important phone call?'

  'It was pretty important. It was about a government contract we was supposed to be getting. If we got it, then I'd have to deal with a few things.'

  Such as, for example, doling out to the Sinagras, the Cuffaros, the mayor and anyone else in charge the wads of money they had coming to them, thought the inspector. But he didn't say anything.

  'So, I'm curious to know, did you get it?' asked Fazio.

  'By the twelfth they hadn't decided. They decided on the fourteenth.'

  'In your favour?' Fazio asked again.

  'Yes.'

  How could you go wrong? 'And did you tell Spitaleri?'

  'Yes, the following day. We rang him at his hotel in Bangkok.'

  'Who's we?'

  'The secretary and me. Anyway, to conclude, if you want to know what happened at Pizzo after I left, you'll have to call Mr Speciale in Germany.'

  'He's dead. Didn't you know?'

  'What? Heart-attack, was it?'

  'No, he fell down the stairs at his home.'

  'Well, you can always ask Ralf.'

  'He's dead, too. I found out half an hour ago.'

  Dipasquale staggered.

  'Whaaat?

  'He got on the train with his stepfather but never arrived in Cologne. He must have fallen off.'

  'So that house in Pizzo is cursed!' the foreman said, disturbed.

  You're telling me! Montalbano thought. He grabbed the printout with the photo from his desk and handed it to him. Dipasquale took it, looked at the photograph, and his face turned flaming red.

  'Do you know her?'

  'Yes. She's one of the twin girls who lived in the last house on the dirt road at Pizzo, before the one we built.'