“I know Giambalvo. He doesn’t want to have to shut down the Pasture or he’d lose his cut. What do you give him, a monthly wage? A fixed percentage?
How much does he get?”
Gegè smiled.
“Get yourself transferred to vice and you’ll find out. I’d like that. It’d give me a chance to help out a poor wretch like you, who lives only on his salary and goes around dressed in rags.”
“Thanks for the compliment. Now tell me about that night.”
“Well, it must have been around ten, ten-thirty, when Milly, who was working that night, saw some headlights coming from the Montelusa side near the sea, heading up toward the Pasture at a good clip.
Freaked her out.”
“Who’s this Milly?”
“Her real name’s Giuseppina La Volpe, thirty years old, born at Mistretta. She’s a smart girl.”
He took a folded-up sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Montalbano.
“Here, I’ve written out everyone’s real name. And address, too, in case you wanted to talk to somebody in person.”
“Why did you say Milly got scared?”
“Because there’s no way a car could come from that direction, unless it passed through the Canneto, which’d be a sure way to bust up your car and your ass into the bargain. At first she thought it was some brilliant idea of Giambalvo’s, a surprise roundup or something. Then she realized it couldn’t be vice: you don’t do a roundup with only one squad car. So she got even more scared, because it occurred to her it might be the Monterosso boys, who’ve been waging war on me, trying to take the Pasture away, and maybe there would even be a shoot-out. So, to be ready to hightail it out of there at any moment, she kept her eyes on that car, and her client started complaining. But she had enough time to see that the car was turning and heading straight for the bushes nearby, driving almost inside of them. And then it stopped.”
“You’re not telling me anything new, Gegè.”
“The guy who’d been fucking Milly then dropped her off and went back up the path, in reverse, to the provincial road. Milly waited around for another trick, walking back and forth. Then Carmen arrived at the spot where she’d been a minute before, with a devoted client who comes to see her at the same time every Saturday and Sunday and spends hours with her. Carmen’s real name is on that piece of paper I gave you.”
“Her address, too?”
“Yes. Before the client turned off his headlights, Carmen noticed that the two inside the BMW were already fucking.”
“Did she tell you exactly what she saw?”
“Yes. It was only a few seconds, but she got a good look. Maybe because it had made an impression on her, since you don’t usually see cars like that at the Pasture. Anyway, the girl, who was in the driver’s seat—oh, I forgot to mention, Milly said it was the girl who was driving—she turned, climbed onto the lap of the man beside her, fiddling around with her hands underneath, but you couldn’t see them, and then she started going up and down. You haven’t forgotten how people fuck, have you?”
“I don’t think so, but we can check. When you’ve finished telling me what you’ve got to tell me, drop your pants, put your pretty little hands on the trunk, and stick your ass up in the air. If I’ve forgotten anything, you can remind me. Now go on, and stop wasting my time.”
“When they were done, the girl opened the car door and got out, straightened her skirt, and shut the door. The man, instead of starting up the car and leaving, stayed where he was, with his head leaning back.
The girl passed very close by Carmen’s car, and at that exact moment a car’s headlights shined right on her.
She was a good-looking lady, blond, well dressed, and she had a shoulder bag in her left hand. Then she headed toward the old factory.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Manuele, who was making the rounds in his car, saw her leave the Pasture and walk toward the provincial road. Since she didn’t look to him like Pasture material, by the way she was dressed, he turned around to follow her, but then a car came by and picked her up.”
“Wait a second, Gegè. Did Manuele see her standing there, with her thumb out, waiting for someone to give her a ride?”
“Salvù, how do you do it? You really are a born cop.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s exactly the point Manuele’s not convinced about. In other words, he didn’t see the chick make any signal, but the car did stop. And that’s not alclass="underline" although the car was moving along at a pretty good clip, Manuele had the impression the door was already open when it put on the brakes to pick her up.
But Manuele didn’t think to take down the license number—there wasn’t any reason.”
“Right. And what can you tell me about the man in the BMW, Luparello?”
“Not much. He wore glasses, and he never took his jacket off to fuck, even though it was hot as hell.
But there’s one point where Milly’s story and Carmen’s don’t jibe. Milly says that when the car arrived, it looked like the man had a tie or a black ascot around his neck; Carmen maintains that when she saw him, he had his shirt unbuttoned and that was all. But that seems like an unimportant detail to me, since Luparello could have taken off the tie while he was fucking. Maybe it bothered him.”
“His tie but not his jacket? But that’s not unimportant, Gegè, because no tie or ascot was found inside the car.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe it fell out onto the sand when the girl got out.”
“Jacomuzzi’s men combed the area and didn’t find anything.”
They stood there in silence, thoughtful.
“Maybe there’s another explanation for what Milly saw,” Gegè suddenly said. “Maybe it was never a question of ties or ascots. Maybe the man still had his seat belt on—after all, they’d just driven along the bed of the Canneto, with all its rocks and sticks—and he took it off when the girl climbed onto his lap, since the seat belt would surely have been a bother.”
“It’s possible.”
“I’ve told you everything I was able to find out about this, Salvù. And I tell you in my own interest.
Because for a big cheese like Luparello to come and croak at the Pasture isn’t good for business. Now everybody’s eyes are gonna be on it, so the sooner you finish your investigation, the better. After a couple of days people forget, and we can all go back to work in peace. Can I go now? These are peak hours at the Pasture.”
“Wait. What’s your opinion of the whole thing?”
“Me? You’re the cop. But just to make you happy, I will say that the whole thing stinks to me. Let’s imagine the girl is a high-class whore, a foreigner. Are you gonna tell me Luparello doesn’t have a place to take her?”
“Gegè, do you know what a perversion is?”
“You’re asking me? I could tell you a few things that would make you puke on my shoes. I know what you’re going to say, that they came to the Pasture because they thought it would make it more erotic. And that does happen sometimes. Did you know that one night a judge showed up with his bodyguards?”
“Really? Who was it?”
“Judge Cosentino. See, I can even tell you the name. The evening before he was kicked out of office, he came to the Pasture with an escort car, picked up a transvestite, and had sex with him.”
“What did the bodyguards do?”
“They went for a long walk on the beach. But to get back to the subject: Cosentino knew he was a marked man and decided to have a little fun. But what interest could Luparello have had? He wasn’t that kind of guy. Everybody knows he liked the ladies, but he was always careful never to let anyone see him. And where is the woman who could make him risk everything he had and everything he stood for just to get laid? I don’t buy it, Salvù.”
“Go on.”
“If we suppose, on the other hand, that the chick was not a whore, then I really don’t know. It’s even less likely—downright impossible—they’d let themselves be seen at the Pasture. Also, the car was driven by the girl, that much is certain. Aside from the fact that no one would ever trust a whore with a car like that, that lady must have been something to strike fear in a man’s heart. First of all, she has no problem driving down into the Canneto, and then, when Luparello dies between her thighs, she gets up like nothing, closes the door, and walks away. Does that seem normal to you?”