I dont understand.
Well, let me explain, my innocent friend. The quickest way to make people forget a scandal is to talk about it as much as possible, on television, in the papers, and so on. Over and over you flog the same dead horse, and pretty soon people start getting fed up. Theyre really dragging this out! they say. Havent we had enough? After a couple of weeks the saturation effect is such that nobody wants to hear another word about that scandal. Now do you understand?
I think so.
If, on the other hand, you hush everything up, the silence itself starts to talk, rumors begin to multiply out of control until you cant stop them anymore. You want an example? Do you know how many phone calls weve received at the studio precisely be
cause of our silence? Hundreds. So is it true that Mr. Luparello used to do two women at a time in his car? Is it true that Mr. Luparello liked to do the sandwich, fucking a whore while a black man worked on him from behind? Then the latest, which came in tonight: is it true that Luparello used to give all his prostitutes fabulous jewels? Apparently somebody found one at the Pasture. Speaking of which, do you know anything about this story?
Me? No, thats just bullshit, the inspector calmly lied.
See? Im sure that in a few months some asshole will come to me and ask if its true that Luparello used to bugger little four-year-olds and then stuff them with chestnuts and eat them. The slandering of his name will become eternal, the stuff of legend. That, I hope, will help you understand why I agreed to sweep it all under the rug.
And whats Cardamones position?
I dont know. That was very strange, his election. In the provincial secretariat they were all Luparellos men, you see, except for two, who were Cardamones, but they were there just for the sake of appearances, to show that they were democratic and all. Clearly the new secretary could have been and should have been a follower of Luparello. Instead, surprise: Rizzo stands
up and proposes Cardamone. The other members of the clique were speechless but didnt dare object. If Rizzos talking this way, it must mean theres something lurking beneath all this which could turn dangerous; better follow the counselor down that path. And so they vote in favor. Cardamone gets the call, accepts the post, and himself proposes that Rizzo work alongside him, to the great dismay of his two representatives in the secretariat. But here I understand Cardamone: better to have Rizzo aboardhe must have thoughtthan at large like a loose cannon.
Zito then proceeded to tell him about a novel he was planning to write, and they went on till four.
As he was checking the health of a succulent plant, a gift from Livia that he kept on the windowsill in his office, Montalbano saw a blue government car pull up, the kind equipped with telephone, chauffeur, and bodyguard, the latter of which got out first and opened the rear door for a short, bald man wearing a suit the same color as the car.
Theres someone outside who needs to talk to me, he said to the guard. Send him right in.
When Rizzo entered, the inspector noted that the upper part of his left sleeve was covered by a broad
black band the width of a palm: the counselor was al
ready in mourning for the funeral.
What can I do to win your forgiveness?
For what?
For having disturbed you at home, at so late an hour.
But you said the matter was improcr
Improcrastinable,yes.
Such a clever man, Counselor Pietro Rizzo!
Ill come to the point. Late last Sunday night a young couple, highly respectable people, having had a bit to drink, decided to indulge an imprudent whim. The wife persuaded the husband to take her to the Pasture. She was curious about the place and what goes on there. A reprehensible curiosity, to be sure, but nothing more. When the pair arrived at the edge of the Pasture, the woman got out of the car. But almost immediately people began to harass her with obscene propositions, so she got back in the car and they left. Back at home she realized shed lost a precious object she was wearing around her neck.
What a strange coincidence, muttered Montalbano, as if to himself.
Excuse me?
I was just noting that at around the same time, and in the same place, Silvio Luparello was dying.
Rizzo didnt lose his composure, but assumed a grave expression.
I noticed the same thing, you know. Tricks of fate.
The object you mention, is it a solid-gold necklace with a heart studded with precious stones?
Thats the one. Im here to ask you to return it to its rightful owners, with the same discretion, of course, as you showed when my poor Mr. Luparello was found dead.
Youll have to forgive me, said the inspector, but I havent the slightest idea of how to proceed in a case like this. In any event, I think it would have been a different story if the owner herself had come forward.
But I have a proper letter of attorney!
Really? Let me see it.
No problem, Inspector. You must understand, before bandying my clients names about, I wanted to be quite sure that you had the same object they were looking for.
He reached into his jacket pocket, extracted a sheet of paper, and handed it to Montalbano. The inspector read it carefully.
Whos this Giacomo Cardamone that signed the letter?
Hes the son of Dr. Cardamone, our new provincial secretary.
Montalbano decided it was time to repeat the performance.
But its so strange! he mumbled again almost inaudibly, assuming an air of deep contemplation.
Im sorry, what did you say?
Montalbano did not answer at once, letting the other stew a moment in his own juices.
I was just thinking that in this whole affair, fate, as you say, is playing too many tricks on us.
In what sense, if you dont mind my asking?
In the sense that the son of the new party secretary happens to be in the same place at the same time as the old secretary at the moment of his death. Curious, dont you think?
Now that you bring it to my attention, yes. But I am certain there is not the slightest connection between the two matters, absolutely certain.
So am I, said Montalbano, adding, I dont understand this signature next to Giacomo Cardamones.
Thats his wifes signature. Shes Swedish. A rather reckless woman, frankly, who seems unable to adapt to our ways.
How much is the piece worth, in your opinion?
Im no expert, but the owners said about eighty million lire.
Then heres what well do: Later this morning Im going to call my colleague Jacomuzzihes got the necklace at the momentand have it sent back to me. Tomorrow morning Ill send it over to your office with one of my men.
I dont know how to thank you
Montalbano cut him off.
And you will give my man a proper receipt.
But of course!
As well as a check for ten million lireIve taken the liberty of rounding off the value of the necklace which would be the usual percentage due anyone who finds valuables or large sums of money.
Rizzo absorbed the blow almost gracefully.
That seems quite fair. To whom should I make it out?
To Baldassare Montaperto, one of the two street cleaners who found Luparellos body.
The lawyer carefully wrote down the name.
9
Rizzo had no sooner finished closing the door than Montalbano already began dialing Nicoltos home phone number. What the lawyer had just told him had set in motion a mechanism inside his brain that outwardly manifested itself in a frantic need to act. Zitos wife answered.
My husband just walked out. Hes on his way to Palermo.
Then, suddenly suspicious:
But didnt he stay with you last night?
He certainly did, signora, but something of importance occurred to me just this morning.
Wait, maybe I can still get him. Ill try calling him on the intercom.
A few minutes later he heard his friends panting, then his voice:
What do
you want? Wasnt last night enough for you?
I need some information.
If you can make it brief.
I want to know everythingbut really everything, even the most bizarre rumorsabout Giacomo Cardamone and his wife, who seems to be Swedish.
No seems about it. Shes a statuesque six-footer with tits and legs like you wouldnt believe. But if you really want to know everything, that would take time, which I havent got right now. Listen, lets do this: Im going to leave now. On the way Ill give it some thought, and as soon as I arrive Ill send you a fax.
Send a fax to police headquarters? Here we still use tom-toms and smoke signals!
I meant Ill send a fax for you to my Montelusa office. You can even pass by later this morning, or around midday.
He had to do something, so he went out of his office
and into the sergeants room.
Hows Tortorella doing?
Fazio looked over at the desk of his absent colleague.
I went to see him yesterday. Theyve apparently decided to release him from the hospital on Monday.
Do you know how to get inside the old factory?
When they built the enclosure wall after shutting it down, they put in a tiny little door, so small you have to bend down to pass through it, an iron door.
Whos got the key?
I dont know. I can find out.
Dont just find out. I want it before noon.
He went back into his office and phoned Jacomuzzi, who let him wait a bit before deciding to answer.
Whats wrong, you got dysentery?
Cut it, Montalbano. What do you want?
What have you found on the necklace?
What do you think? Nothing. Actually, fingerprints, but there are so many of them and theyre such a mess theyre indecipherable. What should I do?
Send it back to me before the end of the day. Understood? Before the end of the day.
He heard Fazios irritated voice shout from the next room:
Jesus Christ! Is it possible nobody knows who this Sicilchim belonged to? It must have some sort of bankruptcy trustee, some official custodian! And, as soon as he saw Montalbano enter, Itd probably be easier to get the keys to St. Peters.
The inspector told him he was going out and wouldnt be gone more than two hours. When he returned, he wanted to find that key on his desk.
As soon as she saw him in the doorway, Montapertos
wife turned pale and put her hand over her heart.
Oh my God! What is it? What happened?
Nothing that you should worry about. Actually, I have good news for you, believe it or not. Is your husband home?
Yes, he got off early today.
The young woman sat him in the kitchen and went to call Saro, who had lain down in the bedroom at the babys side, hoping to get him to close his eyes for just a little while.
Sit down, the inspector said to Saro when he appeared, and listen to me carefully. Where were you thinking of taking your son with the money you would have got from pawning the necklace?
To Belgium, Saro promptly replied. My brother lives there, and he said we could stay at his house for a while.
Have you got the money for the journey?
Scrimping and saving here and there, weve managed to put a little aside, said the woman, without repressing a hint of pride in her voice.
But its only enough for the trip.
Excellent. Now I want you to go to the station,
today, and buy the tickets. Actually, no, take the bus
and go to Raccadaliis there a travel agency there?
Yes. But why go all the way to Raccadali?
I dont want anyone here in Vig to know what youre planning to do. While youre doing that, your wife should be packing for the journey. You mustnt tell anyone where youre going, not even family. Is that clear?
Perfectly clear, as far as that goes. But excuse me, Inspector, is there anything wrong in going to Belgium to have your son treated? Youre telling me to do all these things on the sly, as if we were doing something illegal.
Youre not doing anything illegal, Saro, no need to worry about that. But there are a lot of things I want to be absolutely sure about, so youll have to trust me and do exactly as I say.
All right, but maybe you forgot. What are we going to Belgium for if the money weve got is barely enough to get us there and back? To go sightseeing?
Youll get the money you need. Tomorrow morning one of my men will bring you a check for ten million lire.
Ten million? What for? asked Saro, breathless.
Youve earned it. Its the percentage youre entitled to for turning in the necklace you found. You can spend
the money openly, without worry. As soon as you get
the check, cash it immediately and then leave.
Whos the check from?
From Counselor Rizzo.
Ah, said Saro, turning pale.
You mustnt be afraid. Its all legitimate, and in my hands. Still, its best to be as careful as possible. I wouldnt want Rizzo to change his mind, out of the blue, like some bastards. Ten million lire, after all, is still ten million lire.
Giallombardo told him the sergeant had gone to get the key to the old factory but wouldnt be back for at least two hours; the custodian, who was not in good health, was staying with a son in Montedoro.The policeman also informed him that Judge Lo Bianco had phoned,looking for him, and wanted to be called back by ten oclock.
Ah, Inspector, excellent, I was just on my way out, I have to go to the cathedral for the funeral. And I know I will be assaulted, literally assaulted, by influential people all asking me the same question. Do you know what question that is?
Why hasnt the Luparello case been closed yet?
You guessed it, Inspector, and its no joke. I dont want to use harsh words, and I dont want to be misun
derstood in any way ...but, in short, if youve got something concrete in hand, then out with it. Otherwise close the case. And let me say I simply dont understand: what do you think youre going to discover? Mr. Luparello died of natural causes.And you,I have the impression, are digging your heels in only because he happened to die in the Pasture. Im curious. If Luparello had been discovered at the side of the road, would you have found anything wrong with that? Answer me.
No.
So where do you want to go with this? The case must be closed by tomorrow. Understood?
Dont get angry, Judge.
Well, I am indeed angry, but only at myself. Youre making me use a word, the word case, that really should not properly be used in this case. By tomorrow, understood?
Could we make it Saturday?
What are we doing? Bartering at the market? All right. But if you are so much as an hour late, your superiors will hear about this.
Zito kept his word, and the Free Channel office secretary handed him the fax from Palermo. Montalbano read it as he headed off to the Pasture.
Young Mr. Giacomo is a classic example of the spoiled rich kid, very true to the model, from which he hasnt the imagination to deviate. His father is notoriously honorable, except for one peccadillo (more of which below), the opposite of the late lamented Luparello. Giacomino lives with his second wife, Ingrid Sjostrom, whose qualities I have already personally described to you, on the second floor of his fathers villa. I shall now enumerate his exploits, at least those I can remember. An ignorant dolt, he never wanted to study or apply himself to anything other than the precocious analysis of pussy, but nevertheless he always passed with flying colors, thanks to the intervention of the Eternal Father (or more simply, his father). He never attended any university courses, though enrolled in the medical school (just as well for the public health). At age sixteen, driving his fathers powerful car without a license, he ran over and killed an eight-year-old boy. Giacomino, for all practical purposes, never paid for this, but the father did, and handsomely at that, compensating the childs family. As an adult he set up a business in services. Two years later the business failed, Ca
rdamone lost not a penny, and his business partner nearly shot himself. A revenue officer trying to get to the bottom of things found himself suddenly transferred to Bolzano. He is currently in pharmaceuticals (imagine that! Daddys
the brains behind it, of course) and throws around a lot more money than he probably takes in.
An enthusiast for race cars and horses, he has founded a polo club (in Montelusa!) where not a single game of that noble sport has ever been played, but there is plenty of snorting to make up for this lack.
If I had to express my sincere opinion of the man, I would say that he represents a splendid specimen of the nincompoop, of the sort that flourish wherever there is a rich and powerful father.At age twenty-two he contracted matrimony (isnt that how you say it?) with one Albamarina (Baba, to friends) Collatino, from a wealthy Palermo business family.Two years later Baba went to the Rota with a request for annulment, on the grounds of manifest impotentia generandi on the part of her spouse. I forgot to mention that at age eighteen, that is, four years before the marriage, Giacomino got one of the maids daughters pregnant, and the regrettable incident was, as usual, hushed up by the Almighty.Thus there are two possibilities: either Baba was lying or the maids daughter was lying. In the uncensurable opinion of the holy Roman prelates, it was the maid who had lied (how could it be otherwise?), and Giacomo was incapable of procreating (and for this we should thank the Lord in heaven). Granted her annulment, Baba got engaged to a cousin with whom
shed already had relations, while Giacomino headed
toward the foggy lands of the North to forget.
In Sweden he happened to attend a treacherous sort of rally race, the course of which ran around lakes, crags, and mountains.The winner was a tall, beautiful blonde, a mechanic by profession, whose name is, of course, Ingrid Sjostrom. How shall I put it, my friend, to avoid having it all sound like a soap opera? Coup de foudre, followed by marriage.They have now been living together for five years, and from time to time Ingrid goes back home and enters her little auto races. She cuckolds her husband with Swedish ease and simplicity. The other day at the polo club, five gentlemen (so to speak) played a party game. One of the questions asked was Will anyone who has not made it with Ingrid please stand? All five remained seated.They all had a good laugh, especially Giacomo, who was present, though he didnt take part in the game.There is a rumor, totally unverifiable, that even the austere Dr. Cardamone p has wet his whistle with his daughter- in-law. And this is the peccadillo I alluded to at the start. Nothing else comes to mind. I hope Ive been enough of a gossip for your purposes. Vale
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