Death and the Olive Grove (10 page)

‘Me? I'm a pimp,' said Bordelli, all serious.

‘What's that?'

‘I've got a couple of girls working for me. The pay's pretty good, you don't lift a bloody finger all day long … Why are you making that face?'

‘What face?'

‘I've even got a little drug business going on the side, just to round things off.'

‘Oh, really?' Melchiorri felt uncomfortable, even scared. Bordelli lowered his voice.

‘You wouldn't need a bit o' coke now, wouldja? I just got some yesterday from Bolivia. I'll give you a good price.'

‘No, thanks … Look, I'm sorry, but I have to go and buy some bread.'

‘Listen, why don't we organise a big dinner for the whole class? I could bring my girls.'

‘Of course, why not? Let's think about it … I'm so glad to have run into you, really. We'll try to meet again, okay? But now I've really got to go.'

Melchiorri quickly said goodbye and ran away without turning round. Bordelli began to feel better at once. He lit a cigarette and continued on his way. He had never liked Melchiorri.

When he got to Santa Maria Nova, he asked the first nurse he saw for Dr Saggini. She made him wait in a long corridor lined with closed doors. The doctor arrived a few minutes later with a bouncy, athletic step and white hair combed back. He took Bordelli immediately to see Valentina's mother, but before they entered the room, he reminded him not to tire her out.

‘She's still in pretty bad shape,' he said, shaking his head.

‘Is she alone in the room?' the inspector asked.

‘There are two other patients.'

‘If she can get up, I'd rather talk to her alone.'

They entered the room. The woman was dozing in her bed. She had dark circles round her eyes, and her dirty hair clung to her cheeks. She looked as if she'd lost a lot of weight. She was like a small, abandoned child.

‘How are we feeling today?' the doctor asked her.The woman looked at him absently, then nodded as if to say she felt fine. It was clear she was under the influence of sedatives.

‘Do you think you could get up? The inspector would like to ask you a few questions.'

‘Yes,' she said. She was very weak, and unsteady on her feet. The doctor helped her stand up from the bed. They walked with her into an empty room and eased her into a chair.

‘I'll leave you two alone now,' said Dr Saggini, darting a glance at Bordelli, and then he left, closing the door behind him. The inspector sat down in front of the woman.

‘Signora Panerai, I'm sorry, but I have to talk to you about what happened,' he said.

Valentina's mother looked at him with a stupid smile on her face, not batting an eyelid. Bordelli hated questioning people in these conditions, but he knew it couldn't be helped. The slightest clue might prove important. He believed that the killer might strike again, and felt he was in a race against time.

‘May I begin?' he asked.

‘Yes.'

‘Do you have any enemies?'

‘Enemies?' she said, squinting a little. She was quite feeble minded from the drugs.

‘Someone who hates you so much they might wish to harm you in this fashion?'

‘No.'

‘What sort of work do you do?'

‘Sales.'

‘Where?'

‘With the big wholesalers.'

The woman replied slowly, and always with that hint of a smile on her lips. Bordelli left long pauses between questions, so as not to tire her.

‘Are you married?'

‘No.'

‘Do you have a boyfriend?'

‘I don't have anyone.'

Although she was thin, she sat as if her body felt very heavy to her.

‘And Valentina's father?'

‘He lives in Turin … He was already married with children, but I discovered that a little late.'

‘Is that why Valentina doesn't have her father's name?'

‘When she was born, he didn't want … how do you say it?'

‘To acknowledge paternity?'

‘Yes …' she said, shrugging slightly.

‘Why not?'

‘He didn't want any trouble for his
real
family,' the young woman said, a furrow between her eyebrows.

‘Forgive me for asking, Signora Panerai … But didn't he help you at all?'

‘He sent me a little money every month. Though that certainly wasn't what I had in mind when I met him.'

‘So, you couldn't say you've maintained good relations with him,' the inspector said.

The woman shook her head.

‘I tried every way I could to make him say that Valentina was his daughter. A few years ago I even filed a complaint against him … We ended up in court, but he kept on denying everything. He could afford a good lawyer, and so it all came to nothing … In the end I gave up,' she said, looking at him through empty eyes. Saying more than a few sentences seemed to have tired her out.

‘Did he ever come and see Valentina?'

‘Three or four times a year.'

‘Was he fond of her?'

‘What?'

‘Valentina's father … was he fond of her?'

The woman nodded faintly.

‘Her, yes … He wrote her many letters and was always giving her presents,' she said.

‘Has he been told what happened?'

‘Yes.'

‘How did he take it?'

‘He cried …' the woman said, her eyes vacant. Bordelli left her alone for a bit, to let her rest. Then he resumed.

‘I'm sorry, signora … but I have to ask you a few questions about that afternoon.'

‘Ask whatever you like,' she said, seeming tired.

‘Did you notice immediately that your daughter was missing?'

‘No.'

‘How did you lose sight of her?'

‘She did it all the time.'

‘Ran away, you mean?'

‘Yes.'

‘Why did she do that?'

‘She liked to hide,' the woman said, staring at the wall with an unhappy smile. Her eyes looked huge in her gaunt face.

‘What time was it when you last saw Valentina?'

‘I don't know … about half past five, I guess.'

The girl was found around six. And in that half-hour she had been killed.

‘Did you go often to the Parco del Ventaglio with your daughter?' Bordelli continued after another pause.

‘When it wasn't raining …'

‘Do most of the people who go to the park know each other?'

‘Yes.'

‘Lately, had you noticed anyone you hadn't ever seen there before?'

‘No,' she said, shaking her head repeatedly. Bordelli waited for her to calm down, then continued.

‘Do people sometimes come to the park alone …? I mean, people without children?'

‘A few old men with dogs.'

‘And had anyone ever bothered your daughter in the past?'

‘No.'

‘Had anyone ever bothered any other little girls?'

‘I've never heard any mention of it.'

The woman was beginning to seem impatient. She looked exhausted.

‘There wasn't anybody in the park who you think could have …'

‘No,' she said, shaking her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, then reopened them and looked out the window. The sun was still shining, but some dark clouds were approaching from the north.

‘One last thing, signora … What school did your daughter go to?'

‘Via Fibonacci.'

‘Thank you. Well, for now I don't have anything else to ask you. I'm sorry to have disturbed you.'

‘It doesn't matter,' she said.

The inspector went over to help her stand up. She had left a wet imprint on the seat of the chair, and there was a strong smell of urine.

‘Let me walk you to your room,' said Bordelli. Carla grabbed hold of his arm. After they had taken a few steps towards the door, she froze.

‘I just don't understand why,' she said, a gleam of madness in her eyes.

‘We'll catch him,' said Bordelli, squeezing her hand. He accompanied her back to her room, helped her lie down, and pulled the covers over her.

‘Goodbye, Signora Panerai,' he said, looking at her fleshless face submerged in the pillow.

‘We'll catch him …' she muttered, as if saying goodbye. At that moment a nurse came in and gave her an injection in the arm.

At one o'clock he decided to go and have a bite to eat at Da Cesare. It was already a few days since he'd last put in an appearance. So long an absence was unusual, but lately he hadn't felt like stuffing himself and was happy to eat a panino at the bar. That morning, however, his appetite had reawakened, perhaps as an antidote to the frustration he'd had to stomach over the past few days. He needed a break, to clear his head.

He slipped into Totò's kitchen, feeling relieved, and flopped on to his stool.

‘Ciao, Totò.'

‘Inspector! Where've you been hiding?' the cook yelled, coming up to him. Bordelli squeezed his arm to avoid his greasy hands.

‘I was a little busy,' he said.

‘I'm not surprised … with that maniac at large!' said Totò, making a disgusted face. The inspector tried to change the subject.

‘Cook anything good today …? No, wait. Let me guess,' he said, sniffing the air. Totò looked at him defiantly. ‘
Baccalà alia livornese?
' Bordelli asked.

‘Bravo, Inspector! Except that it's my own variation.'

‘And you've ruined it, I'm sure … And what've you got for the first course?'

‘Spaghetti
à la however I want it?

‘And how do you want it?'

‘Do you trust Totò?'

‘Absolutely.'

‘And you're right … just one minute, I'll be right back.'

Totò ran and stirred the contents of a big pot, filled five or six bowls with pasta, and set these down on the sill of the serving hatch.Then he dumped some spaghetti for the inspector into the boiling water and stirred for a good minute, humming
Stai lontana da me
¹⁰
to himself. He then put the
baccal
à
on a low flame and turned about suddenly, like a cowboy ready to draw his gun. After Casimiro, he was the shortest man Bordelli had ever seen.

While they waited for the pasta, they ate some toast and shrimp together. At a certain point Totò folded his arms on his chest and looked Bordelli straight in the eye.

‘What do you say, Inspector? Are you going to catch that maniac or not?'

‘I'm going to catch him, Totò, and soon.'

‘Let's hope so … These disgusting things happen where I come from, too … Right after the war some half-mad bloke killed the chemist's ten-year-old daughter, a beautiful little girl. They found her in a straw rick with her throat slit and all bloodied. The madman had even bro—'

‘You're not overcooking my spaghetti, are you, Totò?' said Bordelli, to make him stop talking. The last thing he wanted to hear about was murdered little girls.

‘Don't worry, Inspector, I've got a clock up here,' said the cook, pointing to his temple.

‘You never know.'

‘As was I was saying, Inspector … the madman had even broken her legs, just snapped them in two, like toothpicks. Poor little thing. I even saw her … she looked like a chicken
alla diavola
. Her parents seemed dead … they couldn't get a single word out. Thank God they caught the maniac straight away … The whole town gathered in front of the
carabinieri's
headquarters …“Out with him!” they cried. “We want the monster!” The women were raving even worse than the men … The sergeant got scared, and he fired a shot in the air and shouted to us all to go home … But nobody budged … Without too much trouble they broke down the door and pulled the madman out of his cell, dragging him by the hair all the way to the church square, where they tore him to pieces … A disgusting scene, Inspector, but not so unusual in my parts …'

‘Totò, the spaghetti …'

‘We're almost there, Inspector … Just one minute to go … Another time there was a massacre in the town next to mine, and they caught that maniac straight away, too. He'd cut up two little sisters into pieces, an' they were found in a—'

‘Excuse me, Totò, you wouldn't happen to have a drop of wine, would you?'

‘You might want for water sometimes around here, Inspector, but …' said the cook, chuckling. He went off to get a flask, and Bordelli got ready to change the subject. He wanted to enjoy the spaghetti without getting an earful of Totò's tales of the macabre. They made him feel too sad, especially at a moment like this. It grieved him also to hear that those murderers had been caught, while
his
was still free … free to kill again. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He was becoming obsessed. The cook returned with the wine and filled his glass to the brim.

‘Have a taste of this, Inspector, it's from my town.'

Bordelli took a sip.

‘Nice. Is it made by some relative of yours?'

‘My uncle. He's the artist.'

‘Oh, really? So, how does he make it?' asked Bordelli. Totò scratched his brow.

‘Inspector … don't tell me you don't know how wine is made. It'd be like saying you don't know what an arsehole is.'

Bordelli threw his hands up and played dumb. He had hit upon a subject that could distract Totò from killers of little girls, and he wanted to exploit it to the utmost.

‘I have a vague sense of it, Totò, but I'm sure there isn't only one way to make wine … How does your uncle do it?'

The cook ran to the back of the kitchen to drain Bordelli's pasta, then yelled so the inspector could hear him.

‘Making good wine begins with the pruning,' he said. ‘Some people prune only once a year; my uncle does it twice.'

‘And does it really make a difference?'

‘You bet it does!' Totò put the spaghetti in a bowl, poured an orange-coloured sauce full of clams over it, and brought it to the inspector.