The Snack Thief (17 page)

miliar with the Statue of Liberty and therefore when he put
the head together he already knew what to do; but he was

forced to do it that way because the puzzles designer had cut
out the pieces in a way that obliged the player to follow his
design. Is that clear so far?

Clear enough.

It would be fun, he said, if the player could actually create
his own alternative puzzle with the same pieces. Dont
you think thats an extraordinary thought for so small a
child?

Theyre precocious nowadays, said Montalbano, immediately
cursing himself for the banality of the expression.
Hed never talked about children before, and couldnt help
but to resort to clich

Nicolto gave a summary of the Tunisian governments
official statement on the fishing-boat incident. Having conducted
the necessary investigations, they had no choice but
to reject the protest of the Italian government, since the Italians
were powerless to prevent their own fishing boats from
invading Tunisian territorial waters. That night, a Tunisian
military patrol boat had sighted a trawler a few miles from
Sfax. They gave the order to halt, but the fishing boat tried to
flee. The patrol then fired a burst of warning from the ships
machine gun that unfortunately struck and killed a Tunisian
fisherman, Ben Dhahab, whose family had already been
granted substantial aid by the government in Tunis. The
tragic incident should serve as a lesson.

Have you managed to find out anything about
Franss mother?

Yeah, I have a lead, but dont get your hopes up,
replied the inspector.

If . . . if Karima were never to come back ...what...
would happen to Frans?

I honestly dont know.

Im going to bed, said Livia, abruptly standing up.

Montalbano took her hand and brought it to his lips.

Dont get too attached to him.

He delicately freed Frans from Livias embrace and laid
him down to sleep on the sofa, which had already been made
up. When he got into bed, Livia pressed her back against him,
and this time did not resist his caresses. On the contrary.

And what if the kid wakes up? Montalbano asked at
the crucial moment, still acting the swine.

If he wakes up, Ill go console him, Livia said, breathing
heavily.

At seven oclock in the morning, he slipped softly out of bed
and locked himself in the bathroom. As always, the first thing
he did was look at himself in the mirror and twist up his
mouth. He didnt like his own face. So why the hell was he
looking at it?

He heard Livia scream sharply, rushed to the door, and
opened it. Livia was in the living room; the sofa was empty.

Hes run away! she said, trembling.

In one bound, the inspector was on the veranda. He
could see him: a tiny little dot at the edge of the water, walking
towards Vig. Dressed as he was, in only his underpants,
he dashed off in pursuit. Frans was not running, but walking
with determination. When he heard footsteps coming up
behind him, he stopped in his tracks, without turning round.
Montalbano, gasping for air, crouched down before him but
said nothing.

The little boy wasnt crying. His eyes were staring into
space, past Montalbano.

Je veux maman, he said. I want Mama.

Montalbano saw Livia approaching at a run, wearing one
of his shirts; he stopped her with a single gesture, giving her
to understand she should go back to the house. Livia obeyed.
The inspector took the boy by the hand, and they began to
walk very, very slowly. For fifteen minutes neither of them
said a word. When they came to a beached boat, Montalbano
sat down on the sand, Frans sat beside him, and the inspector
put his arm around him.

Iu persi a me matri chera macari cchiu di tia, he
began, telling the child hed lost his own mother when he
was even smaller than Frans.

They started talking, the inspector in Sicilian and the boy
in Arabic, and they understood each other perfectly.

Montalbano confided things hed never told anyone before,
not even Livia.

He told him about the nights when he used to cry his
heart out, head under the pillow so that his father wouldnt

hear him, and the despair he would feel every morning,
knowing his mother wasnt in the kitchen to make him
breakfast, or, a few years later, to make him a snack to take to
school. Its an emptiness that can never be filled again; you
carry it with you to the grave. The child asked him if he had
the power to bring his mother back. No, replied Montalbano,
nobody has that power. He had to resign himself. But you had
your father, observed Frans, who really was intelligent, and
not only because Livia said so. True, I had my father. And so,
the boy asked, am I really going to end up in one of those
places where they put children who have no father or mother?

That will never happen, I promise you, said the inspector.
And he held out his hand. Frans shook it, looking
him in the eye.

When he emerged from the bathroom, all ready to go to
work, he saw that Frans had taken the puzzle apart and
was cutting the pieces into different shapes with a pair of
scissors. He was trying, in his na way, to avoid following
the set pattern. All of a sudden Montalbano staggered, as if
struck by an electrical charge.

Jesus! he whispered.

Livia looked over at him and saw him trembling, eyes
popping out of his head. She became alarmed.

My God, Salvo, what is it?

His only answer was to pick up the boy, lift him over his
head, look at him from below, put him back down, and kiss him.

Frans, youre a genius! he said.

Entering the office, he nearly slammed into Mimugello,

who was on his way out.

Ah, MimThanks for the puzzle.

Mimnly gaped at him, dumbfounded.

Fazio, on the double!

At your service, Chief !

Montalbano explained to him in great detail what he
was supposed to do.

Galluzzo, in my office!

Yes, sir.

He explained to him in great detail what he was supposed
to do.

Can I come in?

It was Tortorella, pushing the door open with his foot since
his hands were busy carrying a stack of papers three feet high.

What is it?

Dids complaining.

Didwas the administrative manager of the Police Com-
missioners Office of Montelusa. He was nicknamed The
Scourge of God and The Wrath of God for his punctiliousness.

Whats he complaining about?

Says youre behind. Says you gotta sign some papers.
And he dropped the stack of papers on the desk. Better take
a deep breath and get started.

179

After an hour of signing, with his hand already beginning to
ache, Fazio came in.

Youre right, Chief. The Vig-Fiacca bus makes a stop
just outside of town, in the Cannatello district. And five minutes
later, the bus coming from the other direction, the
Fiacca-Vig, also stops at Cannatello.

So somebody could, in theory, get on the bus for Fiacca
in Vig, get off at Cannatello, and, five minutes later, get on
the Fiacca-Vig bus and return to town.

Of course.

Thanks, Fazio. Well done.

Wait a minute, Chief. I brought back the ticket man
from the morning line, the Fiacca-Vig. His name is Lopip.
Should I have him come in?

By all means.

Lopip, a reed-thin, surly man of about fifty, was keen
to point out at once that he was not a ticket man, but a driver
whose duties included collecting tickets. As the tickets were
bought in tobacco shops, he did nothing more than collect
them once the passengers had boarded the bus.

Mr. Lopip, everything thats said in this room must
remain confidential.

The driver/ticket man brought his right hand to his
heart, as if taking a solemn oath.

Silent as the grave, he said.

Mr. Lopro

Lopip, he corrected, stressing the penultimate syllable.

Mr. Lopip, do you know Mrs. Lapra, the lady
whose husband was murdered?

I sure do. Shes got a season ticket for that line. She goes
back and forth to Fiacca at least three times a week. She goes
to visit her sister whos sick; shes always talking about her on
the bus.

Im going to ask you to make an effort to remember
something.

Ill give it my best, since you ask.

Last Thursday, did you see Mrs. Lapra?

No need to make any effort. I certainly did see her. We
even had a little run-in.

You quarreled with Mrs. Lapra?

Yessir, I sure did! Mrs. Lapra, as everybody knows, is
a little tight. Shes cheap. Well, on Thursday morning she
caught the six-thirty bus for Fiacca. But when we stopped at
Cannatello, she got off and told Cannizzaro, the driver, that
she had to go back because she forgot something she was
supposed to take to her sister. Cannizzaro, who told me all
this that same evening, let her out. Five minutes later, on my
way to Vig, I stopped at Cannatello, and the lady got on
my bus.

What did you argue about?

She didnt want to give me a ticket for going from
Cannatello to Vig. She claimed she shouldnt have to use
up two tickets for a little mistake. But I gotta have a ticket for
every person on the bus. I couldnt just look the other way,
like Mrs. Lapra wanted me to.

Its only right, said Montalbano. But tell me something.
Lets say the lady manages in half an hour to get what
she forgot at home. Hows she going to get to Fiacca that
same morning?

She catches the Montelusa-Trapani bus, which stops in
Vig at exactly seven-thirty. Which means she would arrive
in Fiacca only an hour late.

Ingenious, Fazio commented after Lopip had left.
How did you figure it out?

The little kid, Frans, tipped me off when he was
working on a jigsaw puzzle.

But why did she do it? Was she jealous of the Tunisian
maid?

No. Mrs. Lapras a cheapskate, as the man said. She
was afraid her husband would spend everything he had on
that woman. But there was something else that triggered the
whole thing.

What was that?

Ill tell you later. As Catarella says, Aravice is a nasty
vice. It was greed, you see, that brought her to Lopips attention,
when she should have been making every effort to
remain unnoticed.

First it took me half an hour to find out where she lived,
then I wasted another half hour trying to persuade the old

lady, who didnt trust me. She was afraid of me, but she
calmed down when I asked her to come out of the house and
she saw the police car. She made a small bundle of her things
and then got in the car. You should have heard how the kid
cried with delight when, to his surprise, she appeared out of
nowhere! They gave each other a big hug. And your lady
friend was also very moved.

Thanks, Gall

When do you want me to come by to drive her back to
Montelusa?

Dont worry about it, Ill take care of it.

Their little family was growing without mercy. Now
Grandma Aisha was also at Marinella.

He let the phone ring a long time, but nobody answered. The
widow Lapra wasnt home. She must certainly be out
shopping. There might, however, be another explanation. He
dialed the number to the Cosentino household. The security
guards likable, mustachioed wife answered, speaking in a soft
voice.

Is your husband asleep?

Yes, Inspector. Do you want me to call him?

Theres no need. You can give him my regards. Listen,
signora: I tried calling Mrs. Lapra, but there was no answer.
Do you know by any chance if she

You wont find her in this morning, Inspector. She
went to Fiacca to see her sister. She went today because

tomorrow morning, at ten oclock, shes got the funeral of

the dear

Thanks, signora.

He hung up. Maybe this would simplify what needed to
be done.

Fazio!

At your orders, Chief.

Here are the keys to Lapras office, Salita Granet 28.
Go inside and take the set of keys that are in the middle
drawer of the desk. Theres a little tag attached to them that
says home. It must be an extra set that he used to keep at the
office. Then go to Mrs. Lapras house and let yourself in
with those keys.

Wait a second. What if shes there?

Shes not. Shes out of town.

What do you want me to do?

In the dining room theres a glass cupboard with dishes,
cups, trays, and whatnot. Take something from it, anything
you like, but make sure its something she cant deny is hers.
The ideal would be a cup from a complete set. Then bring it
here. And dont forget to put the keys back in their drawer at
the office.

And what if the widow notices a cup is missing when
she comes back?

We dont give a fuck. Then you must do one more
thing. Phone Jacomuzzi and tell him that by the end of the
day, I want the knife that was used to kill Lapra. If he
doesnt have anyone who can bring it to me, go get it yourself.

Montalbano? This is Valente. Could you be here in Maz

by four oclock this afternoon?

If I leave immediately. Why?

The captain of the fishing boat is coming, and Id like
you to be there.

Thanks, I appreciate it. Has your man managed to find
anything out?

Yes, and it didnt take much. He said the fishermen are
quite willing to talk.

What did they say?

Ill tell you when you get here.

No, tell me now, so I can give it some thought on the
way.

Okay. Were convinced the crew knew little or nothing
about the whole business. They all claim the vessel was just
outside our territorial waters, that it was a very dark night,
and that they clearly saw a vessel approaching them on the
radar screen.

So why did they keep going?

Because it didnt occur to any of the crew that it might
be a Tunisian patrol boat or whatever it was. I repeat, they
were in international waters.