August Heat

August Heat Page 12

by Andrea Camilleri

  Five minutes later, the other telephone rang. 'Aaah, Chief! Iss the c'mishner says he emergently needs to—' 'Tell him I'm not in.'

  'And where should I tell him you went to?'

  'The dentist's.'

  'You got a toothache?'

  'No, Cat, it's the excuse I want you to give him.' The c'mishner was harrying him even on 15 August.

  As he was signing some papers that Fazio explained had been piling up for a few months, he happened to look up. In the corridor he saw Catarella coming towards his office. But what was it that looked so strange about the way he was walking? The inspector knew the answer as soon as he'd asked the question.

  Catarella, as he walked, was dancing. That was it. Dancing. He was on tiptoe, arms stretched away from his body, hinting at a half-pirouette every few steps. Had the heat indeed gone to his head? As he entered the office, the inspector noticed he was keeping his eyes closed. O matte santa, what had happened to him? Was he sleepwalking? 'Catarella!'

  Catarella, who had come up to the desk, opened his eyes, stunned. He had a faraway look. 'Huh?' he said. 'What's got into you?'

  'Ah, Chief, Chief! There's a girl here you gotta see with your eyes! She's the spittin' image of the poor girl that got killed! Mamma mia, she's so beauty-full! I never seen anyting like 'er.'

  It was Beauty, with a capital B, that had given Catarella's step a dancing lilt, his gaze a dreamy look.

  'Send her in and inform Fazio.'

  He saw her coming from the end of the corridor.

  Catarella walked in front of her, literally bent over, making a bizarre movement with his hand as if he was cleaning the floor where she was about to set her foot. Or maybe he was unrolling an invisible carpet.

  And as the girl approached and her features, eyes and hair colour became more and more distinct, the inspector slowly stood up, feeling himself drowning happily in a sort of blissful nothingness.

  Head of pale gold With eyes of sky blue,

  Who gave you the power

  To make me no longer myself ?

  It was a quatrain by Pessoa, singing in his head. He collected himself and emerged from the nothingness to return to his office.

  But he had succeeded only by dealing himself a low, malicious blow as painful as it was necessary: she's young enough to be your daughter.

  'I'm Adriana Morreale.'

  'Salvo Montalbano.'

  'Sorry I'm late, but...'

  She was half an hour late.

  They shook hands. The inspector's was a little sweaty, Adriana's was dry. She was cool and fresh and smelled of soap, as if she wasn't coming in from outside but had just stepped out of the shower.

  'Please sit down. Catarella, did you inform Fazio?'

  'Huh?'

  'Did you inform Fazio?' 'Straight aways, Chief.'

  He walked out with his head turned backwards, gawping at the girl for as long as he could.

  Montalbano took the opportunity to observe her, and she let herself be observed.

  She must have been used to it.

  Jeans clinging to very long legs, low-cut light blue blouse, sandals. One point in her favour: her navel was not exposed. She was clearly not wearing a bra. And there wasn't a trace of makeup on her face. She had done nothing to make herself beautiful. What else could she do, after all?

  After a good look at her, one could see a few differences with respect to the photograph of her twin sister, due, no doubt, to the fact that Adriana was six years older, and they couldn't have been easy years. The eyes had the same shape and colour but the innocence that shone in Rina's gaze was gone from Adriana's. And the girl sitting in front of the inspector also had a faint line at each corner of her mouth.

  'Do you live with your parents in Vigata?'

  'No. I quickly realized that my presence was a source of suffering to them. They couldn't help but see my missing sister in me. So, when I enrolled at the university — I'm studying medicine — I bought an apartment in Palermo. But I come back often. I don't like to leave them alone for long.'

  'What year are you in?'

  'I've signed up for the third.'

  Fazio came in and, although he'd been prepared by Catarella, his eyes popped out the moment he saw her. 'Hi, my name's Fazio.'

  'I'm Adriana Morreale.'

  'Perhaps it'd be best if you shut the door,' said the inspector.

  Once news got round that a beautiful girl was in his office, in five minutes the hallway would be jammed with more traffic than a city street at rush-hour.

  Fazio closed the door and sat down in the other chair in front of the inspector's desk. But this brought him face to face with the girl. He decided to pull back until he was off to one side of the desk, slightly closer to Montalbano.

  'Forgive me for not allowing you to come to my home, Inspector.'

  'Not at all. I understand perfectly.'

  'Thank you. You can ask me all the questions you want.'

  'Prosecutor Tommaseo told us it was you who had to perform the painful task of identifying the body. I'm very sorry, but my job requires me, and I want to apologize for it now, to ask you certain questions that—'

  Then Adriana did something that neither Fazio nor Montalbano was expecting. She threw her head back and laughed. 'My God, you talk like he does! You and Tommaseo use exactly the same words! Do they make you take a special course?'

  Montalbano felt at once offended and liberated. Offended for having been compared to Tommaseo, and liberated because he realized the girl didn't like formality. It made her laugh.

  'I told you,' Adriana continued, 'to ask me all the questions you want. You don't have to walk on eggshells. It doesn't seem your style.'

  'Thanks,' said Montalbano.

  Fazio, too, appeared relieved.

  'You, unlike your parents, always imagined your sister was dead, is that right?' Just like that, straight to the point, the way she wanted and the way everyone preferred.

  Adriana gave him an admiring look. 'Yes, but I didn't imagine it. I knew it.'

  Montalbano and Fazio both, at the same time, leaped slightly out of their chairs. 'You knew? Who told you?' 'Nobody actually told me directly.' 'So how did you know?'

  'My body told me. And I've trained my body never to lie to me.'

  THIRTEEN

  What did she mean?

  'Could you please explain to me how... ?'

  'It's not easy. It's because we were identical twins. The phenomenon is hard to describe, but it used to happen to us now and then. A sort of confused, long-distance communication of emotion.'

  'Go on.'

  'I will, but first I want to make clear that I'm not talking about the sort of phenomenon where if one of us skinned her knee, the other, even if she was far away, would feel pain in the same knee. Nothing like that. If anything, it was more like transmitting a strong emotion. For example, on the day Grandma died, Rina was there but I was in Fela playing with my cousins. All of a sudden, I was overwhelmed by such sadness that I started crying for no apparent reason. It was as though Rina had transmitted her emotions at that moment.'

  'Did this happen all the time?'

  'No.'

  'Where were you the day your sister didn't come home?'

  'I'd left just that morning, on the twelfth, to see my aunt and uncle in Montelusa. I was supposed to stay with them for two or three days, but I came home late that evening after Papa called my uncle to tell him Rina had disappeared.'

  'Listen ... on the afternoon, or the evening, of the twelfth ... was there anything ... you know ... any sort of "communication", between your sister and you?'

  Montalbano was having trouble formulating his question. Adriana helped him out. 'Yes, there was. At seven thirty-eight in the evening. I instinctively glanced at my watch.'

  Montalbano and Fazio looked at each other. 'What happened?'

  'I had a little room of my own at my uncle's and aunt's place, and I was alone, choosing what to wear that evening because we'd been invited to dinner b
y some friends ... Just then I had this feeling, but not like the other times. It was sort of physical. She was strangled, wasn't she?'

  She was close. 'Not exactly. What did Prosecutor Tommaseo tell you?'

  'Prosecutor Tommaseo said she'd been murdered, but he didn't specify how. He also told me where she'd been found.'

  'When you went to the morgue to identify the body—'

  'I asked them to show me only the feet. That was enough. The big toe on her right—'

  'I know. But afterwards, didn't you ask Tommaseo how she died?'

  'Inspector, my only concern after identifying the body was to liberate myself as quickly as possible from Tommaseo. He started to console me by patting me lightly on the back, but then his hand was sliding downwards, too far downwards. It's not like me to play the prude, far from it, but that man was a real nuisance. What was he supposed to tell me?'

  'That your sister's throat was slashed.'

  Adriana turned pale and her hand flew to her own. 'Oh, my God!' she whispered.

  'Can you tell me what you felt at that moment?'

  'A violent pain in my neck. For a minute that seemed like for ever, I couldn't breathe. But at the time it didn't occur to me that the pain might be related to something that was happening to my sister.'

  'What did you think it was related to?'

  'You see, Inspector, Rina and I were identical, but only physically. We were completely different in the way we thought, the way we behaved. Rina would never have done anything against the rules, not even the tiniest thing, but I, on the other hand, would. In fact, I rather liked to, from around that time. I started smoking on the sly. And that day I'd had three cigarettes in a row, keeping the window in my little bedroom open. For no reason, just for the pleasure of doing it. So when I felt that pain in my throat, I naturally thought it was because of the cigarettes.'

  'And when did you realize it had to do with your sister?'

  'Immediately afterwards.' 'Why?'

  'I connected it to another thing that had happened to me just a few minutes earlier.'

  'Can you tell us what that was?' 'I'd rather not.'

  'Did you tell your parents about — about this contact with your sister?'

  'No. This is the first time I've talked about it.' 'Why didn't you tell them?'

  'Because it was a secret between Rina and me. We had sworn never to tell anyone.'

  'Did you and your sister confide a lot in each other?'

  'How could we not?'

  'Did you tell each other everything?'

  'Everything.'

  Now came the most difficult questions. 'Would you like something to drink from the cafe downstairs? I can send someone to fetch it.'

  'No, thanks. We can continue.'

  'Don't you have to go home? Are your parents alone?'

  'Thanks, but please don't worry. I asked a friend to look after them. She's a nurse, so they're in good hands.'

  'Did Rina ever mention to you that anyone, during those final weeks, was bothering her?'

  Adriana did the same thing as before. She threw her head back and laughed. 'Would you believe me, Inspector, if I told you that there wasn't a single man, from when we were thirteen, who didn't "bother" us, as you put it? I found it rather amusing, but Rina hated it and got very angry.'

  'There was one specific incident that was brought to our attention, and which we'd like to know more about.'

  'You're talking about Ralf.' 'You knew him?'

  'It would have been hard not to. While his stepfather's house was being built, he came round to our place every other day.'

  'What did he do?'

  'Well, he would come and then he would hide, waiting for our parents to go into town or down to the beach. Then, after we got up, he would spy on us through the window as we were having breakfast. I thought it was funny. Sometimes I would throw him little pieces of bread, as if he was a dog. He liked that game. Rina couldn't stand him.'

  'Was he sane?'

  'You must be joking. He was out of his mind. One day something more serious happened. I was alone in the house. The upstairs shower wasn't working so I used the one downstairs. When I came out, there he was, right in front of me, completely naked.' 'How did he get in?'

  'Through the front door. I'd thought it was closed, but it had been left ajar. It was the first time Ralf came into the house. I didn't even have a towel round me. He looked at me with a dog-like expression and asked me to give him a kiss.'

  'What did he say?'

  'He said, "Please, won't you give me a kiss?"' 'Weren't you afraid?'

  'No. That isn't the kind of thing that frightens me.' 'So, what was the upshot?'

  'I decided to humour him. I kissed him, very lightly, but on the lips. He put a hand on my breast and caressed it, then he bowed his head and collapsed into a chair. I ran upstairs and got dressed, and when I went down again he'd gone.'

  'Didn't you think he might try to rape you?' 'Not for a second.' 'Why not?'

  'Because I realized immediately that he was impotent. I could tell even from the way he looked at me. And I had my confirmation when I kissed him and he caressed me. He didn't have a ... well, any visible reaction.'

  Deep inside his ears the inspector distinctly heard the sound of his hypotheses falling noisily to pieces. Ralf forcing the girl to go into the underground apartment, raping her, killing her, then killing himself or being forced to kill himself ... He exchanged a glance of dismay with Fazio, who looked befuddled.

  Then he gazed admiringly at Adriana. How many girls had he met who could say things as straightforwardly as she? 'Did you tell Rina about this incident?'

  'Of course.'

  'So why did she run away when Ralf tried to kiss her? Didn't she know he was harmless?'

  'Inspector, I already told you that, as far as this sort of thing was concerned, we were very different. Rina wasn't afraid, she just felt deeply offended by it, and that was why she ran away.'

  'I was told that Spitaleri, the developer—'

  'Yes, he happened to drive past at that moment. He saw Rina running away and Ralf chasing her, naked. He stopped, got out of his car and punched Ralf so hard that he fell over. Then he bent over him, pulled a knife out of his pocket and told him that if he ever bothered my sister again he'd kill him.'

  'And then?'

  'Then he told her to get into his car and drove her home.'

  'Did he stay long?'

  'Rina said she gave him a cup of coffee.' 'Do you know whether Spitaleri and your sister ever saw each other again?'

  'Yes.'

  At that moment the telephone rang. 'Aah, Chief, Chief! The c'mishner wants to talk to you emergently straight aways and poissonally in poisson.'

  'But why didn't you tell him I was still at the dentist's?'

  'I made an attemptation to tell 'im you's still out, but he said, the c'mishner said, I mean, not to tell 'im you's still at the dennist's and so I said you's here in the office in poisson.'

  'Put him on the line in Augello's office, and I'll pick it up in there.' He stood up. 'You'll have to excuse me, Adriana. I'll be back as soon as I can. Fazio, you come with me.'

  In Mimí's office, into which the sun shone directly, the heat was stifling. 'Hello? What can I do for you, Commissioner?'

  'Montalbano! Have you any idea?'

  'Of what?'

  'What? You don't have any idea?' 'Of what?'

  'You didn't even deign to answer!' 'Answer what?' 'The questionnaire!'

  'About what?' Uttering any more syllables than that would have been painful.

  'The questionnaire on personnel, which I sent you a good two weeks ago! It was extremely urgent!'

  'It was filled in and despatched.'

  'To me?'

  'Yes.'

  'When?'

  'Six days ago.' A whopping lie. 'Did you make a copy?' 'Yes.'

  'If I can't find it, I'll let you know and you can send me the copy.' 'Okay.'

  When he hung up, his shirt was dr
ipping. 'Do you know anything about a questionnaire on personnel that the commissioner sent here about two weeks ago?' he asked Fazio.

  'I remember giving it to you.'

  'So where the hell did it end up? I have to find it and fill it in. He's liable to call back in half an hour. Let's look for it.'

  'But the girl's still in your office.'

  'I'll have to send her home.'

  She was in the same position as she had been when they'd left her. She seemed not to have budged.

  'Adriana, something's come up. Can we meet again this afternoon?'

  'I'm supposed to be home by five, when the nurse leaves.'

  'Shall we make it tomorrow morning?'

  'That's the funeral.'

  'Well, then, I don't know...'

  'I've got an idea. I invite you both to lunch. That way, we can continue talking. If you feel like it...'

  'Thank you very much,' said Fazio, 'but I have to be at home. It's the fifteenth of August, after all.'

  'I, on the other hand, would be delighted to come,' said Montalbano. 'Where will you take me?'

  'Wherever you like.'

  Montalbano couldn't believe it. They made an appointment to meet at Enzo's at one thirty.

  'That girl's got balls of steel,' Fazio muttered, as she went out.

  Left alone, Montalbano and Fazio searched the room and became discouraged. The desk was covered with papers, and there were stacks on the filing tray with water and glasses, on top of the filing cabinet, and even on the little sofa and the two armchairs for important visitors.

  They worked up a royal sweat and took a good half-hour to find the questionnaire. But the worst was yet to come, and they sweated even more while they were filling in the answers.

  When they had finished it was past one o'clock. Fazio said goodbye and left.

  'Catarella!'

  'Here I am.'

  'Photocopy these four pages for me. Then, if anyone from the commissioner's office should phone asking about a questionnaire, send them the copy you've made. But be absolutely certain: the copy!' 'Don' worry, Chief.'

  'Now, get the clothes you hung out to dry and bring them to me. Then go and open my car doors.'

  Undressing in the bathroom, he had the impression that he stank. It must have been all the effort he'd made searching for that damned questionnaire. He washed thoroughly, changed his clothes, gave Catarella the sweaty ones to put in the courtyard, and went into Augello's office. He knew that Mimí kept a little bottle of cologne in one of his drawers. He looked for it and found it. It was called Irresistible. He unscrewed the cap and, thinking that there was a dropper, managed to empty half the bottle over his shirt and trousers. Now what? Should he put the sweaty clothes back on? No, maybe out in the open air the cologne would evaporate. Then he had a moment of hesitation: should he bring the mini-fan? He decided against it. He would surely look ridiculous to Adriana, holding the little contraption to his face and smelling sweet as a whore.

 

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