IM10 August Heat (2008) (15 page)

“What’s the difference?”

“That’s up to us to decide. Spitaleri could not have known that the work carried over into the next day, because he’d already left. But did you know?”

“Yes.”

“In fact, wasn’t it you yourself who made the decision to prolong it?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It slipped my mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Anyway, last time I came in, you didn’t tell me about the girl that was killed.”

He was trying to counterattack, the asshole.

“Dipasquale, we’re not here to play ‘you tell me one thing, and I’ll tell you another.’At any rate, when you walked in, you already knew, of course, about the dead girl, because Spitaleri had told you about her. And yet you acted as if nothing had happened.”

“What was I supposed to say? Nothing?”

“Not at all! You did say something.”

“What?”

“You tried to create an alibi for yourself. You said that four days before the work in Pizzo was completed, Spitaleri sent you to Fela to start on a new worksite. So, why is it that, on the eleventh and twelfth of October, in the afternoon, you were at Pizzo and not in Fela?”

Dipasquale didn’t even try to come up with an excuse.

“Inspector, you gotta understand. I got really scared when Spitaleri told me about the dead body. So I made up that story about being sent to Fela. But I figured that sooner or later you’s gonna find out it was a lie.”

“Then tell us exactly what happened.”

“Well, at eleven o’clock I went into that goddamned apartment. I wanted to see if it was damp or if there was any seepage. I even went into the living room, but I didn’t see nothing strange.”

“What about the next day, the twelfth?”

“I went back there in the afternoon. I told Miccichè not to dismantle the tunnel. Then he left and I stayed another half hour to wait for Mr. Speciale.”

“Did you go inside to check on everything?”

“Yessir. An’ everything was in order.”

“In the living room, too?” asked Fazio.

“In the living room, too.”

“And then?”

“Finally, Mr. Speciale arrived.”

“How did he come?”

“By car. He’d rented it when he got here.”

“Was his stepson with him?”

“Yessir.”

“What time was it?”

“Probably ’round four.”

“Did you go downstairs?”

“All three of us.”

“How were you able to see?”

“I had a powerful flashlight. And Speciale had one, too. Speciale checked everything very closely. He’s a real fussy man. A stickler. Then I asked him if we could close up the passage and level the ground, and he said okay. He gave one last look, and then we went outside, Mr. Speciale and me.We said good-bye, and I left.”

“What about Ralf ?”

“The kid asked his stepfather for the flashlight and stayed downstairs.”

“To do what?”

“Dunno. He just liked being underground. He looked at all the wrapped-up casings and laughed. Didn’t I tell you he was crazy?”

“So, when you left, Speciale and Ralf stayed behind in Pizzo?”

“That’s where I left ’em. Anyways, Speciale had the keys to the apartment, which was habitable.”

“Do you remember more or less what time it was when you left?”

“Around five o’clock.”

“Why did you wait until nine o’clock that night to inform Miccichè that he could take down the tunnel?”

“I called him at least three times, and there was never any answer! I didn’t reach him till evening!”

It made sense. Miccichè and his wife had spent the afternoon and early evening at Montelusa Hospital.

“What did you do after you left Pizzo?”

Dipasquale gave a slight chuckle.

“You want an alibi?”

“You’re better off if you’ve got one.”

“I got one. I went into Spitaleri’s office. He was supposed to be calling us—the secretary and me—between six and eight o’clock.”

“But he hadn’t landed in Bangkok yet!” said Fazio.

“Of course not. But the flight was making a stop in some place whose name I can’t remember. Spitaleri knows the route. He goes to those places often.”

“Did he call?”

“Yes.”

“Was it an important phone call?”

“It was pretty important. It was about a government contract we was supposed to be getting. If we got it, then I would have to take care of a few things.”

Such as, for example, doling out to the Sinagras, the Cuffaros, the mayor, and anyone else in charge the wads of bills they had coming to them,
thought the inspector. But he didn’t say anything.

“So, I’m curious to know, did you get it?” asked Fazio.

“By the twelfth they hadn’t decided yet. They decided on the fourteenth.”

“In your favor?” Fazio asked again.

“Yes.”

How could you go wrong?

“And did you tell Spitaleri?”

“Yes, the following day. We called him ourselves at his hotel in Bangkok.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“The secretary and me. Anyways, to conclude, if you wanna know what happened at Pizzo after I left, you’ll have to call Mr. Speciale in Germany.”

“Don’t you know? He’s dead.”

“What? D’he have a heart attack?”

“No, he fell down the stairs at his home.”

“Well, you can always ask Ralf.”

“Ralf ’s dead, too. I just found out half an hour ago.”

Dipasquale balked.

“Wha . . . aat?”

“He got on the train with his stepfather but never got to Cologne. He must have fallen off.”

“So that house in Pizzo is cursed!” the foreman said, disturbed.

You’re telling me!
Montalbano thought to himself.

The inspector grabbed the printout with the photo on his desk and handed it to him. Dipasquale took it, looked at the photograph, and his face turned flaming red.

“Do you know her?”

“Yes. She’s one of the twin girls who lived in the last house on the dirt road at Pizzo, before the one we built.”

So that was why the missing-persons report was made in Fiacca. At the time, Montereale fell within its jurisdiction.

“This is the girl that was killed?” asked Dipasquale, still holding the printout in his hand.

“Yes.”

“I am positive that . . .”

“Speak.”

“You remember what I told you last time? This is the girl Ralf chased around naked and that Spitaleri saved.”

Suddenly Dipasquale realized he’d made a mistake.Talking without thinking, he’d dragged Spitaleri into it. He tried to set things right.

“Or maybe not. In fact, there’s no ‘maybe’ about it. I got it wrong.This is the twin sister, I’m sure of it.”

“Did you see the twins often?”

“Often, no. Now and then. There was no way to get to Pizzo without driving by their house.”

“How come Miccichè said he’d never seen her before?”

“Inspector, the masons would come to the worksite at seven o’clock in the morning, when I’m sure the girls were still asleep. An’ they got off work at five-thirty, when the girls were still down on the beach. But me, I would go back and forth, to and from the worksite.”

“How about Spitaleri?”

“He came less often.”

“Thanks, you can go,” Montalbano concluded.

“What do you make of Dipasquale’s alibi?” Fazio asked after the foreman had left.

“It could be true or it could be false. It rests entirely on a phone call from Spitaleri that we don’t know was ever really made.”

“We could ask the secretary.”

“Are you kidding? The secretary will do and say exactly what Spitaleri tells her to do and say. Otherwise she’ll find herself one hundred percent sacked. And with the shortage of work these days, don’t imagine she’s gonna put her job in jeopardy.”

“I get the feeling we’re not making any progress.”

“I’ve got the same feeling. Tomorrow we’ll hear what Adriana has to say.”

“Would you explain to me why you want to talk to Filiberto?”

“But I don’t want to talk to him. I just wanted to see what Dipasquale’s reaction would be. Whether he had any suspicions about us being the two who paid Filiberto a visit the other night.”

“It looks to me like we haven’t entered their minds.”

“Sooner or later they’ll come to that conclusion.”

“And what will they do then?”

“In my opinion, they won’t show their hand. Spitaleri will go complain to his little friends who protect him, and they’ll do something.”

“Like what?”

“Fazio, we’ll wait for them to come and bust our heads, and then we’ll start crying.”

“Okay,” Fazio began, “I’m gonna g—”

A boom as loud as a cannon blast interrupted him. It was the door slamming against the wall. Catarella was standing there with one arm raised and his fist closed, holding an envelope in his other hand.

“Sorry ’bout the noise, Chief. Somebuddy just now brought a litter.”

“Give it to me and get out of here before I shoot you.”

It was a big envelope, and in it were two pages faxed from Germany and addressed to Callara’s agency.

“Stay and listen, Fazio. This contains the news of Ralf ’s death. Callara sent it over to me.”

Montalbano began reading aloud.

 

The translation of the news item went as follows:

 

“This fall from the train doesn’t convince me,” said Fazio.

“Me neither. The police say Ralf got up to go to the john. What, is he gonna do it naked? What if he runs into someone in the corridor?”

“So what do you think?”

“Bah. It’s all guesswork, as you know. We’ll never have any proof or confirmation. Maybe Ralf spotted a pretty girl on the train and decided to strip down naked and try to kiss her, the way Dipasquale said he used to do. And maybe he ran into her husband, father, or boyfriend, who threw his ass out of the train window.”

“That sounds like a bit of a stretch to me.”

“There’s another possible explanation. Suicide.”

“For what reason?”

“Let’s make an argument based on the fact that, on the afternoon of October the twelfth, Angelo Speciale and his stepson remained in Pizzo alone, as Dipasquale says. Say Angelo goes out onto the terrace to enjoy the sunset, while Ralf goes for a walk in the direction of the Morreale house. Don’t forget that Dipasquale told us that Ralf had tried to grab Rina once. He happens to run into her, and this time he doesn’t want to let her get away. He threatens the girl with a knife and forces her to go with him into the underground apartment. And that’s where the tragedy occurs. Ralf wraps up the girl’s body, puts it in the trunk, takes her clothes, hides them in the house, and then goes out on the terrace to keep Angelo company. The stepfather, however, finds the girl’s clothes, maybe on their last day there. Maybe they were even stained with her blood when he was killing her.”

“But hadn’t he made her take her clothes off ?”

“We don’t know. It’s possible he only stripped her afterwards. There was no need for her to be completely naked for him to do what he wanted to do.”

“So how does it end?”

“It ends as follows: During the train ride back to Germany, Angelo forces Ralf to confess to the murder. And, after confessing, the kid kills himself by jumping off the train. But I can give you a variant, if you like.”

“What?”

“Angelo himself throws him off the train, killing the monster.”

“Pretty far-fetched, Chief!”

“Whatever the case, don’t forget that Signora Gudrun wrote that when her husband got back to Cologne, he said he never wanted to leave again. Something must therefore have happened to him.”