IM2 The Terra-Cotta Dog (2002)

by Andrea Camilleri

  I found a piece of cardboard, from a package or, rather, from a large box, the kind used for shipping.

  You tell a secret, I tell a secret: I once found a red button.

  What an asshole you are! Im not going to say any more.

  Aw, come on, honeybuns, dont be offended.

  On this piece of cardboard are some printed letters. I found it under the wooden underframe of the cave; it must have slipped through one of the interstices between the planks.

  What was that word you said?

  Underframe?

  No, after that.

  Interstices?

  Yes. My, my, arent we educated? And so well-spoken! Did you find anything else under this whatever-it-was you called it?

  Yes. Rusted nails, a button, in factbut this one was blacka pencil stub and some scraps of paper, but the dampness had turned them all to mush. That piece of cardboard is still in good condition because it apparently had been there only a few days.

  Send it down to me. Listen, have you got an echo sounder and anyone who might know how to use it?

  Yes. We used it at Misilmesi just last week to look for three dead bodies, which we eventually found.

  Could you have it here to me in Vig by five oclock?

  Are you insane? Its four-thirty! Lets say in two hours. Ill bring it myself, along with the cardboard. But what do you need it for?

  To sound your little behind.

  Headmaster Burgio is here for you. Says if youll see him, he has something to tell you. It wont take more than five minutes.

  Show him in.

  Headmaster Burgio had already been retired for ten years or so, but everyone still called him by that title because hed been headmaster of the Vig Business School. He and Montalbano were well acquainted. The headmaster was a very cultured, energetic man, with a keen interest in life despite his age, and he sometimes accompanied the inspector on his restful walks along the jetty. The inspector stood up to greet him.

  How nice to see you! Please sit down.

  Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought Id ask if I could talk to you. If I hadnt found you in the office, I would have phoned.

  What can I do for you?

  I wanted to let you know a few things about the cave where you found those weapons. Im not sure itll be of any interest, but

  Are you kidding? Tell me everything you know.

  Well, let me state first that what Im about to say is based on what Ive heard on the local TV and read in the newspapers. Its possible they got a few things wrong. In any case, somebody said that the boulder covering the cave entrance had been made into a door by mafiosi or by whoever was trafficking in weapons. Its not true. This work of... lets call it adjustment, was done by the grandfather of a very dear friend of mine, Lillo Rizzitano.

  How long ago? Do you know?

  Of course I know. It was around 1941, when oil, flour, and wheat were growing scarce because of the war. At that time, all the land around the Crasto and the Crasticeddru belonged to Giacomo Rizzitano, Lillos grandfather, who had made a lot of money in America by less-than-legitimate means, or at least thats what people in town said. Anyway, it was Giacomo Rizzitanos idea to seal off the cave by turning that boulder into a door. And inside the cave they kept all sorts of good things, selling them on the black market with the help of his son Pietro, Lillos father. They were unscrupulous men, whod been implicated in other affairs which decent people at the time never talked about, including, apparently, some acts of violence. Lillo, on the other hand, had turned out differently. He was sort of literary, he wrote nice poems and read a lot. It was he who first introduced me to Paveses Paesi tuoi, Vittorinis Conversazione in Sicilia,and so on. I used to go visit him, usually when his folks werent there, in a small house right at the foot of the Crasto, on the seaward side.

  Was it demolished to build the tunnel?

  Yes. Or, more precisely, the earthmovers working on the tunnel merely got rid of the ruins and foundations, since the house was literally pulverized during the bombings that preceded the Allied landing in 1943.

  Think you could track down this Lillo friend of yours?

  I dont even know whether hes dead or alive, or where hes lived since then. I say this because you should bear in mind that Lillo was, or is, four years older than me.

  Tell me, Mr. Burgio, have you ever been inside that cave?

  No. I once asked Lillo, but he said no. He had strict orders from his father and grandfather. He was very afraid of them; the fact that hed even told me the secret of the cave was already a lot.

  Officer Balassone, despite his Piedmontese name, spoke Milanese dialect and always wore a haggard face worthy of the Day of the Dead.

  Ll di mort, alegher! Montalbano thought upon seeing him, reminded of the title of a poem by Delio Tessa.

  After half an hour of fussing about with his instrument at the back of the cave, Balassone removed his headset and gave the inspector an even more disconsolate look than usual, if that was possible.

  I was wrong, thought Montalbano, and now Im going to look like a stupid shit in Jacomuzzis eyes.

  Jacomuzzi, for his part, after ten minutes inside the cave, had made it known he suffered from claustrophobia and gone outside.

  Maybe because now there arent any TV cameras pointed at you? Montalbano thought maliciously.

  So? the inspector finally asked Balassone, to confirm his failure.

  Its there, behind the wall, Balassone said mysteriously. He was not only a melancholic, but also a man of few words.

  Would you please tell meif its not asking too muchexactly what is there behind the wall? asked Montalbano, who was becoming dangerously polite.

  On sit voeuij.

  Would you please have the courtesy to speak Italian?

  The appearance and tone seemed those of an eighteenth- century gentleman of the court. Baldassone had no idea that, if he went on at this rate, he was in line to have his nose rearranged. Luckily for him, he obeyed.

  Theres a hollow, he said, and its as big as this cave here.

  The inspector took comfort. Hed seen right. At that moment Jacomuzzi came in.

  Find anything?

  With his immediate superior, Baldassones tongue suddenly loosened. Montalbano gave him a dirty look.

  Yessir, said the Piedmontese. There apparently is another cave behind this one. Its like something I saw once on television. There was this Eskimos housewhat do you call

  them?oh, yes, this igloo, and right next to it was another igloo. And the two igloos were connected by a kind of passageway, a short, low corridor. Its the same here.

  At a rough glance, said Jacomuzzi, Id say the passage between the two caves must date from a good number of years ago.

  Yessir, said Baldassone, looking more and more weary. If any weapons were hidden in the other cave, theyd have to go back as least as far as the Second World War.

  The first thing Montalbano noticed about the piece of cardboard, which the crime lab had dutifully inserted in a little transparent plastic bag, was that it had the same shape as Sicily. In the middle of it were some letters printed in black: ato-cat.

  Fazio!

  At your service!

  Get Vintis to lend you the Jeep and shovels and pickaxes again. Were going back to the Crasticeddru tomorrow, you, me, Germanand Galluzzo.

  This is becoming a bad habit! Fazio cried out.

  Montalbano felt tired. In the fridge he found some boiled squid and a slice of nicely aged caciocavallo cheese. He set himself up on the veranda. When he had finished eating, he went to look in the freezer, and there he found a tub of

  lemon ice, which the housekeeper made regularly for him by following a one-two-four formula: one glass of lemon juice, two of sugar, and four of water. A finger-licking delight. Then he decided to stretch out on the bed and finish the novel by Montalb He was unable to read even a chapter. Despite his interest, sleep got the better of him. He woke up with a start less than two hours later. He looked at his watch: barely ele
ven oclock. As he was putting the watch back on the bedside table, his eye fell on the piece of cardboard, which hed brought with him. He picked it up and went into the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet in the cold fluorescent light, he studied it closely. Suddenly an idea flashed in his brain. For a moment it seemed as if the bathroom light were growing steadily in intensity, until it exploded in a luminescent burst. He started laughing.

  Is it possible ideas only come to me when Im on the john?

  He studied the piece of cardboard again and again.

  Ill try again tomorrow morning, with a cooler head.

  But it was not to be. After fifteen minutes of tossing and turning in bed, he got up, grabbed the phone book, and looked up the number of Captain Aliotta of the Customs Police in Montelusa, who was a friend of his.

  Sorry to call so late, but I urgently need some information. Have you ever done any inspections at the supermarket of a certain Carmelo Ingrassia in Vig?

  The name doesnt ring a bell. And if I cant remember, it probably means that there was an inspection, but it turned up nothing irregular.

  Thanks.

  Wait. The person responsible for these kinds of procedures is Sergeant LaganIf you want, Ill have him phone you at home. Youre at home, right?

  Yes.

  Give me ten minutes.

  He had enough time to go into the kitchen and drink a glass of ice water before the telephone rang.

  Laganpeaking. The captain filled me in. The last inspection check at that supermarket was two months ago. Everything was in order.

  Was it done at your own instigation?

  Just a routine check. Nothing out of order. In fact, its not that often we come across a store-owner with his papers in such good order. If somebody wanted to screw him, theyd have nothing to grab onto.

  And you checked everything? Accounts, invoices, receipts?

  Excuse me, Inspector, but how do you think we do our checks? asked the sergeant, starting to sound a little testy.

  For heavens sake, Sergeant, I didnt mean to cast any doubt...That wasnt the reason for my question. You see, Im unfamiliar with certain procedures, and thats why Im asking for your help. How do these supermarkets get their stocks?

  From wholesalers. They might use five or ten different ones, depending on what they need.

  I see. Would you be able to tell me who the suppliers of the Ingrassia supermarket are?

  I think so. I should have some notes around here somewhere.

  I really appreciate this. Ill call you tomorrow at the barracks.

  But Im at the barracks right now! Stay on the line.

  Montalbano heard some whistling.

  Hello, Inspector? Here we are. The wholesalers that stock Ingrassia ...theres three from Milan, one from Bergamo, one in Taranto, one in Catania. Take this down. In Milan

  Wait. Excuse me for interrupting. Start with Catania.

  The corporate name of the Catanian company is Pan, you know, like frying pan. Owned by Salvatore Nicosia, who resides at

  It didnt add up.

  Thanks, thats enough.

  Wait, heres something else Id forgotten about. The supermarket is also supplied by another wholesaler, also in Catania, for its household goods. That ones called Brancato.

  ato-cat, the piece of cardboard said. Brancato-Catania: it added up, and how! Montalbanos cry of joy thundered in the sergeants earpiece, frightening him.

  Inspector? Inspector! Oh, my God, what happened? Are you all right, Inspector?

  11

  Fresh and smiling, in jacket and tie and enveloped in a haze of cologne, Montalbano showed up at the home of Francesco Lacommare, manager of the Ingrassia supermarket, at seven oclock in the morning. The manager greeted him not only with legitimate astonishment, but also in his underwear, with a glass of milk in hand.

  What is it? he asked, turning pale upon recognizing the inspector.

  Two simple little questions and Ill get out of your hair. But, first, one very serious stipulation: this meeting must remain between you and me. If you speak to anyone at all about it, even your boss, Ill find an excuse to throw your ass in jail, and you can bank on that.

  As Lacommare was struggling to recover his breath, a shrill, annoying female voice exploded inside the apartment:

  Ciccino! Whos that at this hour?

  Its nothing, Carmelina, go back to sleep, Lacommare reassured her, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Do you mind, Inspector, if we talk over here on the

  landing? The top floor, the one right above us, is vacant, so

  theres no danger anyone will bother us.

  Who do you buy from in Catania?

  From Pan and Brancato.

  Do they have fixed delivery schedules?

  Once a week for Pan, once a month for Brancato. Weve coordinated it with the other supermarkets that use the same wholesalers.

  Very good. So, as I understand it, Brancato will load up a truck with merchandise and send it out to make the rounds of the supermarkets. Now, where on these rounds is your store situated? Let me explain better

  I understand, Inspector. The truck leaves Catania, services the Caltanissetta area first, then Trapani, then Montelusa. The Vig markets are the last ones the truck visits before heading back to Catania.

  One last question. The merchandise those thieves took and then left behind

  Youre very intelligent, Inspector.

  You are, too, if you can answer me before Ive asked you a question.

  The fact is, this whole storys been keeping me up at night. Heres the problem: The Brancato merchandise was delivered early. We were expecting it first thing the next morning, but it arrived the evening before, just as we were closing. The driver told us one of his supermarkets in Trapani had been suddenly closed for mourning, so he was ahead of

  schedule. Mr. Ingrassia, to free up the truck, had it unloaded, checked the list, and counted the crates. But he didnt have anyone open them up. Said it was too late. He didnt want to pay anybody overtime and said we could do everything the next day. A few hours later, the store was robbed. So, my question is: Who told the robbers the merchandise had arrived early?

  Lacommare was putting some passion into his reasoning. Montalbano decided to play devils advocate. After all, the manager must not be allowed to get too close to the truth; that might cause trouble. Most of all, it was obvious he was unaware of Ingrassias trafficking.

  The two things arent necessarily connected, the inspector said. The thieves could have come to rob what you already had in storage and ended up finding the freshly delivered merchandise instead.

  Yes, but then why leave it all behind?

  That was indeed the question. Montalbano was hesitant to give an answer that might satisfy Lacommares curiosity.

  But who the fuck is that anyway? asked the now enraged female voice from within.

  She must have been a woman of delicate sentiment, this Signora Lacommare. Montalbano took advantage of the interruption to leave. Hed found out what he wanted to know.

  My respects to your lovely wife, he said, starting back down the stairs.

  When he reached the front door, however, he sprang back upstairs like a tethered ball and rang the doorbell.

  You again? Lacommare had drunk his milk but was still in his underwear.

  Im sorry, I forgot something. Are you sure the truck was completely empty after you unloaded it?

  No, I didnt say that. There were still about fifteen large crates. The driver said they belonged to that supermarket in Trapani that hed found closed.

  But what is all this fucking commotion so early in the morning? Signora Carmelina shrieked from within, and Montalbano fled without even saying good-bye.

  I think Ive determined, with reasonable accuracy, the route the weapons traveled before reaching the cave. Bear with me, Mr. Commissioner. Here goes: In some way that we have yet to discover, the weapons come to the Brancato firm in Catania from some other part of the world. Brancato warehouses them and puts t
hem in big boxes with the company name on them, so they look like they contain normal electrical appliances to be sold in supermarkets. When they receive the order to deliver, the Brancato people load the boxes with the weapons onto the truck, along with the rest. As a precaution, along some stretch of road between Catania and Caltanissetta, they replace the company truck with a stolen one. That way, if anybody finds the weapons, Brancatos can claim they

  had nothing to do with it, they know nothing about it, the truck isnt theirs, and, in fact, they themselves were robbed. The stolen truck begins its circuit, dropping off the... uh... clean crates at the various supermarkets it supplies, then heads off to Vig. Before arriving, however, it stops in the middle of the night at the Crasticeddru and unloads the weapons in the cave. Early that morningaccording to Lacommare, the store managerthey deliver their final packages to the Ingrassia supermarket and then leave. On the way back to Catania, the stolen truck is then replaced by the companys actual truck, which returns home as if it has made its full journey. Maybe they take care to tinker with the odometer each time. And theyve been playing this little game for at least three years, since Jacomuzzi said that the outfitting of the cave in fact goes back three years.

  Your explanation makes excellent logical sense, said the commissioner. But I still dont understand the whole charade of the phony robbery.

  They acted out of necessity. Do you remember that gunfight between a patrol of carabinieri and three thugs in the Santa Lucia countryside, where one carabiniere was wounded?

  Yes, I do remember it, but whats that got to do with this?

  The local radio stations broadcast the news around nine p.m., right when the truck was on its way to the Crasticeddru. Santa Lucia is only about a mile and a half away from the cave. The traffickers must have heard the news on the

  radio. It would have been stupid to let themselves be spotted in a deserted place by some patrolof which there were many that night, racing to the site of the shoot-out. So they decided to push on to Vig. They were certain to run into a roadblock, but that was the lesser evil at this point, since they stood a good chance of slipping through. And thats what happened. So: they arrive well ahead of schedule and make up the story about the supermarket closed for mourning in Trapani. Ingrassia, whos been alerted of the hitch, has his employees unload the truck, which then pretends to head back to Catania. Its still carrying the weapons, those same crates which they told Lacommare, the manager, were supposed to have gone to the supermarket in Trapani. The truck is then hidden somewhere around Vig, on Ingrassias or some accomplices property.