'Of course. It was part of his seduction strategy. He enjoyed it Anyway, he took me to a trattoria in Montelusa, and I could tell from his expression that he was afraid I might order expensive dishes. And then he complained when the bill came'
'You said it was part of his strategy. Don't you think it was because you're beautiful? I think all men like to be seen with a girl like you at their side.'
'Thanks for the compliment I don't want to seem mean, but I have to tell you he also took Mariastella out to dinner. And the next day Mariastella was in a complete daze, a beatific smile on her face, not knowing if she was coming or going, walking around the office knocking into furniture. And you know something?'
'Tell me'
'Mariastella reciprocated. She invited him to dinner at her place. And Gargano went, or so I gathered, at least since Mariastella didn't say anything but merely cooed with contentment lost in the clouds'
'Does she have a nice house?'
'I've never, been there. It's big house, a villa, just outside Vigata, pretty isolated. She used to live there with her parents. Now she's all alone.'
Is it true that Mariastella keeps on paying the rent and telephone bills for the office?'
'Absolutely.'
'Does she have money?'
'Her father must have left her something. You know what? She wanted to pay me, out of her own pocket, for the two missing pay cheques. "The ragioniere will reimburse me later," she said. Actually, no. In fact, she blurted out, "Emanuele will reimburse me later," and then turned red as a beet. She's just crazy about the man and doesn't want to accept reality.'
'And what's the reality?'
'That in the best of cases, Gargano's living it up on some Polynesian island. And in the worst, he's being eaten by the fish in the sea.'
They arrived. Michela gave Montalbano a kiss on the cheek and got out. Then she leaned into the open window and said:
'Actually I have three exams to take in Palermo.' 'Good luck,' said Montalbano. 'Let me know how it goes.'
He went straight home to Marinella. As soon as he stepped inside, he noticed that Adelina had returned to work. The linen and shirts were on the bed, ironed and folded. He opened the fridge and found it empty, except for some black olives, fresh anchovies dressed in olive oil, vinegar, and oregano, and a generous slice of caciocavallo cheese. His mild disappointment vanished when he opened the oven: inside was a casserole of the legendary pasta 'ncasdata! Four servings' worth. Slowly and with perseverance, he shovelled it all down. Then, since the weather permitted, he settled himself in on the veranda. He needed to think. But he didn't do any thinking. Before long, the sound of the surf gently lulled him to sleep.
Good thing I'm not a crocodile, or I'd drown in my own tears.
This was the last meaningful, or meaningless, thought that came into his head.
By four he was back in his office, and Mimi immediately popped in.
'Where were you?' the inspector asked him.
'Out doing my job. As soon as I heard the news, I rushed to the scene and made myself available to Guamotta. On your behalf, according to our commissioner's guidelines. That's our turf, isn't it? Did I do the right thing?'
When he put his mind to it, Augello could show them all a thing or two.
'Absolutely. Well done.'
'I told him I was only there in a supporting role. If he wanted, I would even go buy cigarettes for them. He was very appreciative.'
'Did they find Gargano's body?'
'No, and they're discouraged. They consulted a fisherman from the area, and he told them that unless Gargano's been held up by some rock, by this point, with all the strong currents they've got around there, that body's already sailing to Tunisia. So, if they don't find anything by tonight, they're going to stop looking.'
Fazio appeared in the doorway. The inspector signalled to him to come in and sit down. Fazio had a solemn look on his face. It was obvious he could barely hold himself back.
'And so?' Montalbano asked Mimi 'So Guarnotta's scheduled a press conference for tomorrow morning.'
'Know what he's going to say?'
'Of course. Why else do you think I dashed all the way out to that horrible place? He's going to say that both Gargano and Pellegrino are victims of a vendetta by the Mafia, which our ragioniere had taken for a ride.'
'But how, I ask you, could this blessed Mafia have possibly known a day in advance that Gargano was going to bail out on his commitments, and then killed him? If they'd killed him on the first or second of September, I would understand. But to kill him the day before, doesn't that seem just a teeny little bit odd to you?'
'Of course it seems odd to me. Extremely odd. But don't ask me, ask Guarnotta.'
The inspector, smiling broadly, turned to Fazio.
'And where have you been hiding yourself?'
'I'm packing,' said Fazio, dead serious. 'Big guns.'
What he meant was that he had some high cards to play. Montalbano asked him no questions, letting Fazio take his time and savour his achievement. Fazio took a little piece of paper out of his pocket, consulted it, and resumed speaking.
'I succeeded in finding out what I wanted to know, and it cost me a lot.'
'Did you have to pay? asked Augello.
Fazio shot him an annoyed glance.
'I meant it cost me a lot of talk and patience. Banks refuse to give information on their clients' little business ventures, especially when these ventures have a bad smell about them. But I managed to talk an official into spilling the beans anyway. He got down on his knees and asked me not to repeat his name. Are we in agreement on that?'
'Yes' said Montalbano. 'Especially since this is isn't our case. We're acting out of pure and simple curiosity. Call it private curiosity.'
'So' said Fazio. 'On the first of October of last year, at the bank where he deposited his monthly pay cheque, a wire transfer of two hundred million lire was credited to the account of Giacomo Pellegrino. A second transfer of the same amount came in on the fifteenth of January of this year. The last such transfer, this time for three hundred million, was made on the seventh of July. Seven hundred million lire in all, Pellegrino didn't have any other accounts at any other bank in Vigata or Montelusa.'
'Who was wiring these transfers?' asked Montalbano.
'Emanuele Gargano.'
'Wow' said Augello.
'But from the bank where he kept his personal account, not the one he used for King Midas' Fazio continued. 'Therefore the money sent to Pellegrino had nothing to do with Midas's business dealings. It was clearly a personal matter'
When Fazio had finished speaking, he was wearing a long face. He was disappointed that Montalbano showed no surprise. The information seemed to have left the inspector indifferent, Fazio, however, refused to give up and tried again.
'And you want to know something else I discovered? Every time he received a new transfer of funds, the next day Pellegrino would turn the money over to--'
'--to the construction company building his house' Montalbano concluded.
There's an old story that tells how, once upon a time, the King of France, sick and tired of hearing his wife, the Queen of France, tell him he didn't love her because he never got jealous, asked a gentleman of the court to come into the queen's bedchamber the following morning, throw himself at her royal feet, and pledge his undying love to her. The king would then barge in a few minutes later and, seeing what was transpiring, throw a terrible jealous fit in front of his wife. And so the following morning the king took up position behind the queen's door, waited for the courtier to come in, counted to one hundred, unsheathed his sword and burst into the room. But what he saw were the queen and courtier, naked on the bed, rucking with such gusto that they didn't even notice he'd come in. The poor king left the room, put the sword back in its sheath, and said: 'Damn! They ruined my scene!'
Fazio did exactly the opposite of the King of France. Seeing Montalbano ruin his scene, he bolted out of his chair, turned br
ight red, cursed, and stormed out of the room, muttering to himself.
'What's with him?' asked Augello, surprised.
'The fact is that sometimes I'm kind of an idiot,' said Montalbano.
"You're telling me!' said Augello, himself a frequent victim of Montalbano's idiocy.
Fazio returned almost immediately. One could see he'd gone out to wash his face.
'Sorry about that,' he said.
'No, I'm the one who's sorry,' the inspector replied in all sincerity. Then he continued: 'So the villa was entirely paid for by Gargano. The only question is: why?'
Mimi opened his mouth, but a gesture from the inspector made him close it again.
'I first want to know if I'm remembering something correctly,' said Montalbano, turning to Fazio. 'Was it you who told me that when Pellegrino rented a car in Montelusa he specified that he wanted one with a spacious boot?'
'Yes,' said Fazio.
'And at the time we thought it was for his suitcases?'
'Yes.'
'Which was incorrect, because he left his suitcases at his new house.'
'Then what did he want to put in the boot?' Augello cut in.
'His motorbike. He rented the car in Montelusa, put his motorbike in the boot, drove out to Punta Raisi to do his little number with the plane tickets, drove back to Montelusa, returned the rented car, and came back to Vigata on his motorbike.'
'That doesn't seem very important to me,' Mimi commented.
It is, in fact, very important Because I've learned, among other things, that he'd once put his motorbike in the boot of Gargano's car.'
'OK, but--'
'Let's forget the motorbike for a moment Let's return to the question of why Gargano paid for the construction of Pellegrino's new house. Bear in mind that I've also learned -- and I trust my source -- that Gargano was a skinflint, always careful not to waste any money.'
Augello spoke first
'Why couldn't it have been for love? From what you've told me yourself, there was more than just sex between them.'
'What do you think?' Montalbano asked Fazio. Inspector Augello's explanation could be right But, and I can't really say why, I'm not convinced. I would lean more towards blackmail' 'Blackmail over what'
'I dunno, maybe Pellegrino threatened to tell everyone they had a relationship -- that Gargano was gay...'
Augello burst out laughing. Fazio gave him a puzzled look.
'Come on, Fazio! How old are you? Nowadays, thank God, nobody gives a shit if you're gay or not!'
'Gargano made a point of not letting it show,' Montalbano cut in. 'But I don't think it would have been such a big deal even if there had been some danger of the fact becoming known. No, that sort of threat would not have made someone like Gargano succumb to blackmail.'
Fazio threw his hands up and stopped defending his hypothesis. Then he stared at the inspector. Augello, too, started staring at him.
'What's wrong with you two?'
'What's wrong with us is that it's your turn to talk,' said Mimi
'All right,' said the inspector. 'But let me preface this by saying that what I'm about to describe is a novel. In the sense that there isn't the slightest trace of proof for any of it. And, as in all novels, as the story gets written, events sometimes go their own way, leading to unforeseen conclusions.'
'OK,'said Augello.
'We begin with something we know for certain: Gargano organizes a scam that, by definition, cannot be pulled off over the course of a week, but requires a long time to develop. Not only that: he also needs to set up a genuine business with offices, employees, and so on. Among the employees he hires in Vigata is a kid named Giacomo Pellegrino. After a while, the two begin to have an affair. They sort of fall in love; it's not just a one-night stand. The person who told me this added that, though they tried to hide it, their relationship became visible in their behaviour. Some days they'd smile at each other and seek each other out, while other days they'd pout and snub each other. Exactly the way lovers do. Isn't that how it is, Mimi? You know about these things, don't you?'
'Why, you don't?'
'The point is,' Montalbano continued, 'you're both right. Their story begins in ambiguity and is played out in ambiguity. Pellegrino is one of those partial intelligences that--'
'Stop right there,' said Mimi 'What does that mean?'
'By partial intelligence I mean the intelligence of someone who works in money. Not in farming, business, industry, construction, or what have you, but in money for its own sake. These people know or sense everything there is to know about money, every hour, every minute of the day. They know it as well as they know themselves. They know how it pissed today, how it shat, ate, and slept, how it woke up this morning. They know its good days and its bad days, they know when it wants to give birth -- that is, when it wants to produce more money -- or when it's contemplating suicide, when it wants to remain sterile, and even when it wants to have sex without commitments. They know when it will take off, they know when it will go into free fall, as the specialists on the TV news like to put it. These partial intelligences are called things like financial wizards, big bankers, big brokers, big speculators. Their brains, however, function only on that one wavelength. In every other respect they're ill equipped, awkward, limited, backward, even downright stupid. But never naive.'
'Your portrait seems a little excessive to me,' said Augello.
'Oh, yeah? And in your opinion that guy who was found hanged under Blackfriars Bridge in London wasn't a partial intelligence? How about that other guy, the one who faked being kidnapped by the Mafia, shot himself in the leg, and then drank a cup of poisoned coffee in prison? Give me a break!'
Mimi didn't dare contradict him.
To return to Giacomo Pellegrino,' said Montalbano. 'He's a partial intelligence who meets up with an even more partial intelligence, that is, the ragioniere Emanuele Gargano, who senses their elective affinity right off the bat. So he hires him and begins to assign him various tasks that he's careful not to give to his other two employees. Then the relationship between Gargano and Pellegrino changes; they discover that their elective affinity is not limited to money, but can be extended as well to the emotional sphere. I said these people are never naive, but there are always different levels of naivety. Let's just say that Giacomo is a little shrewder than Gargano. But this slight difference is more than enough for the kid.'
In what sense? asked Augello.
In the sense that Giacomo must have discovered almost immediately that there was something going on at King Midas that didn't add up. But he kept it to himself, with the intention, however, of carefully following every move and transaction his employer made. So he starts compiling data, and begins to connect the dots. And maybe, in their more intimate moments, he even asks a few questions that appear to be offhand but which actually have a precise goal in mind, which is to work his way further and further into Gargano's schemes.'
'And Gargano's so in love with the kid that he never gets suspicious?' Fazio interjected with a tone of scepticism.
'You hit the nail on the head,' said the inspector. 'And this is the most delicate point in the novel we're writing. Let's see if we can understand how the Gargano character acts. Remember that at the beginning I said their relationship was marked by ambiguity. I am convinced that at some point Gargano sensed that Giacomo was getting dangerously close to understanding the workings of his scam. But what can he do? Firing him would make things worse. So he plays the fool, as the saying goes, to avoid going to war.'
'So he hopes Pellegrino will be satisfied with the gift of the house and won't ask for anything else?' enquired Mimi.
'Yes, in a way, because he's not sure whether Giacomo is bkckmailing him or not. The kid probably persuaded him by insisting how wonderful it would be to have their own love nest, a place where they could even go and five together after Gargano retires ... He probably set his mind at rest this way. But they both know -- though they never let on -- how the whole t
hing will end. Gargano will flee abroad with the money, and Giacomo, not being in any way involved in the scam, can enjoy his new house in peace.'
'I still can't understand why he told his uncle he was leaving for Germany,' said Fazio as if to himself.
'Because he knew the uncle would tell us once we started looking for Gargano; meanwhile we were supposed to sit around waiting for him to return before investigating any further. Then he would finally turn up, innocent as a baby, and tell us that, yes, he'd been to Germany, but it had all been a trick on Gargano's part to get him out of the way, since he was the only person who might understand, in time, that Gargano was about to haul in the nets. He would tell us that no money had ever been wired to the banks where Gargano had sent him.'
im6 The Scent of the Night (2005) Page 14
