On the nine P.M. news program, Nicolò Zito did his job, showing the photo of the Griffos and saying that their son was worried.
The inspector turned off the television and decided to start reading the latest novel by Vázquez Montalbán, which featured Pepe Carvalho as the protagonist and took place in Buenos Aires. He read the first three lines and then the phone rang. It was Mimi.
“Am I disturbing you, Salvo?”
“Not in the least.”
“Are you busy?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“I’d like to talk to you. I’ll come over to your place.”
So Mimi’s attitude when he’d reproached him that morning was sincere, not just an act. What could have happened to the poor guy? In matters of women, Mimì was easy to please and belonged to that line of male thinking according to which every neglected woman is lost to her mate. Maybe there’d been a scene with a jealous husband. Like the time he was caught by Perez, the accountant, while kissing the naked breasts of his lawfully wedded spouse. Things turned nasty, and an official grievance was filed with the Office of the Commissioner. But Mimi had wiggled out of it, because the commissioner—the old one, that is—had managed to settle the matter. If it had been the new commissioner, Bonetti-Alderighi, that would have been all for the career of Deputy Inspector Mimi Augello.
Somebody rang the doorbell. It couldn’t possibly be Mimi, since he’d called not a moment before. But it was.
“Did you fly to Marinella from Vigàta?”
“I wasn’t in Vigàta.”
“Where were you, then?”
“Here, nearby. I called you from my cell phone. I’d been circling the area for an hour.”
Uh-oh. Mimi’d been wandering around the neighborhood before deciding to call. A sign that the matter was more serious than he had imagined.
Suddenly, a terrible thought occurred to him: What if Mimi had caught a disease from all his whoring?
“How’s your health, Mimi?”
Mimi gave him a confused look.
“My health? Fine.”
Oh God. If the burden he was bearing didn’t involve the body, then it must concern the opposite realm. The soul? The mind? Whom are we kidding? What did Mimi know about any of that?
As they were heading toward the veranda, Mimi said:
“Would you do me a favor, Salvo? Could you pour me a couple of shots of whisky, neat?”
He was trying to get up the nerve, clearly. Montalbano started to feel extremely agitated. He set the bottle and glass down in front of Mimi, waited for him to pour out a substantial serving, and then spoke.
“Mimì, I’m getting sick of this charade. Tell me what the hell is happening to you.”
Augello downed the glass in a single gulp and, looking out at the sea, said in a very low voice:
“I’ve decided to take a wife.”
Montalbano reacted on impluse, prey to an uncontrollable rage. With his left hand he swept the glass and bottle off the table, while with his right he dealt Mimì, who’d turned towards him, a ringing slap on the cheek.
“You stupid shit! What the fuck are you saying? As long as I’m alive, I’ll never let you do a thing like that! I won’t allow it! How could you ever think of such a thing? For what reason?”
Augello, meanwhile, had stood up, back against the wall, a hand on his reddened cheek, bug-eyed and terrified.
The inspector managed to get hold of himself, realizing he’d overreacted. He came towards Augello with his arms extended. Mimi managed to flatten himself even closer to the wall.
“For your own good, Salvo, don’t touch me.”
So it was definitely contagious, Mimì’s disease.
“Whatever it is you have, Mimi, it’s still better than death.”
Mimi’s jaw literally dropped.
“Death? Who ever said anything about death?”
“You did. Just now, you said: ‘I’ve decided to take my life.’ Do you deny it?”
Mimi didn’t answer, but began to slide down the wall. Now he had his hands on his belly as if in unbearable pain. Tears came out of his eyes and began to roll down beside his nose. The inspector felt a sense of panic come over him. What to do? Call a doctor? Whom could he wake up at that hour? Mimi, meanwhile, had jumped to his feet, cleared the balustrade in a single bound, recovered the whisky bottle, unbroken, from the sand, and was now guzzling its contents. Montalbano froze. Then he gave a start, as Augello began to howl. But, no, he wasn’t howling. He was laughing. What the hell was so funny? At last Mimi managed to speak.
“I said ‘wife,’ Salvo, not ‘life’!”
The inspector felt simultaneously relieved and pissed off. He went into the house, into the bathroom, put his head in the sink, turned on the cold water, and stayed there a bit. When he returned to the veranda, Augello was sitting down again. Montalbano took the bottle from his hands, brought it to his lips, and polished it off.
“I’ll go get another.”
He returned with a brand-new bottle.
“You know, Salvo, when you reacted like that, you scared the shit out of me. I thought you’d become a fag and were in love with me!”
“Tell me about the girl,” Montalbano cut in.
Her name was Rachele Zummo. He’d met her in Fela, at the house of some friends. She worked in Pavia, in the north, but was there visiting her parents.
“What’s she do in Pavia?”
“Want to hear something funny? She’s a policewoman!”
They laughed. And they kept laughing for another two hours, finishing the bottle.
“Hello, Livia? It’s me, Salvo. Were you asleep?”
“Of course I was asleep. What’s happening?”
“Nothing. I wanted to—”
“What do you mean, nothing? Do you know what time it is? It’s two o‘clock in the morning!”
“Oh, really? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late ... or so early. No, really, it’s nothing, just some silly matter, believe me.”
“Well, even if it’s some silly matter, you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“Mimi Augello said he’s going to get married.”
“Well, isn’t that the latest news! He already told me, three months ago, and begged me not to tell you.”
An extremely long pause.
“Are you still there, Salvo?”
“Yeah, I’m here. So you and Mr. Augello have your little secrets and keep me in the dark, is that how it is?”
“Oh, come on, Salvo!”
“No, Livia, allow me for once to be pissed offl”
“And you allow me the same!”
“Why?”
“Because you called marriage a silly matter, asshole! When in fact you should follow Mimì’s example! Good night!”
He woke up around six o‘clock in the morning, his mouth gluey, his head throbbing slightly. He drank half a bottle of ice water and tried to go back to sleep. No dice.
What to do? The question was answered by the ringing telephone.
At that hour? It was probably that idiot Mimi calling to tell him he’d changed his mind about getting married. He slapped his forehead. So that’s what created the misunderstanding last night! Since when does a Sicilian “take a wife?” In Sicily, one simply gets married! He picked up the receiver.
“Have you changed your mind?”
“No, Chief, I haven’t. That’d be rather difficult, since I don’t know what I would’ve changed my mind about. Care to tell me?”
“Sorry, Fazio, I thought you were someone else. What’s up?”
“Sorry to wake you at this hour, but ...”
“But?”
“We can’t find Catarella. He disappeared yesterday afternoon, leaving the office without saying where he was going. And nobody’s seen him since. We even asked at Montelusa Hospital ...”