im6 The Scent of the Night (2005) Read online

  'Cuckoo! Cuckoo!'

  He turned around at once and saw Emanuele Gargano-- he, too, long dead, face covered with green sea moss, algae twisting around his arms and legs. The current was making his body spin slowly around, as though he was mounted on a spit and roasting. Every time Gargano's face, or what remained of it, turned upwards and faced Montalbano, the mouth opened and said: 'Cuckoo! Cuckoo!'

  Tearing himself with difficulty from the dream, he woke up all covered in sweat. He turned on the light. And he had the impression that another light, violent and swift as lightning, had flashed for a moment inside his head.

  He completed the sentence that Zito's phone call had interrupted: Miss Mariastella Cosentino behaved as if she knew exactly where Emanuele Gargano was hiding.

  FIFTEEN

  After that last thought, he was barely able to get any sleep. He would drift off only to wake up again less than half an hour later with Mariastella Cosentino on his mind. Of the other two King Midas employees he'd been able to get a clear sense, even though he'd never seen Giacomo except as a corpse. At seven o'clock he got up, put in the videocassette that the Free Channel had made for him, and watched it carefully. Mariastella appeared twice in it, both times during the inauguration of the Vigata office, both times at Gargano's side, showering him with adoring glances. A love at first sight, therefore, which over time had become total, absolute. He had to speak with the woman and had a good excuse for doing so. Since his assumptions were gradually being borne out, he would ask her if relations between Gargano and Pellegrino had grown tense towards the end. If she said yes, then this assumption, too -- that is, that the men had conspired to pretend they were at odds -- would prove to have been correct. Yet before going to see her, he decided he needed to know more about her.

  He got to headquarters around eight and immediately summoned Fazio.

  'I need some information on Mariastella Cosentino'

  'O Gesu biniditto!' said Fazio.

  'What's so shocking about that?'

  'What's shocking, Chief, is that lady might look alive, but she's really dead! What do you want to know?'

  'Whether there is or was any gossip about her circulating in town. Like what she did or where she worked before Gargano hired her. And who her father and mother were. Where she lives and what her habits are. We know, for example, that she has no television, but does have a phone.'

  'How much time have I got?'

  'Report back to me no later than eleven.'

  'All right, Chief, but you have to do me a favour.'

  'Gladly, if I can.'

  You can, Chief, you can.'

  He went out and returned at once with half a ton of documents in his arms.

  At eleven on the dot Fazio knocked on the door and came in. The inspector was pleased to see him. He'd managed to sign three-quarters of the papers, and his arm was getting stiff.

  'Get these papers off my desk' 'Even the ones you haven t signed?' "Them too'

  Fazio picked them up, took them to his office, and came back.

  'I didn't find out much,' he said, sitting down.

  He pulled from his pocket a sheet of paper densely covered with scrawl.

  'Fazio, before you begin, I implore you to rein in your records office complex as much as possible. Tell me only the essentials. I don't give a shit about where and when Mariastella's parents were married. OK?'

  'OK' said Fazio, wrinkling his nose.

  He read the sheet over twice, then folded it up and put it back in his pocket.

  'Miss Cosentino is the same age as you, Chief. She was born here in February 1950. Only child. Her father was Angelo Cosentino, in the wood business, solid citizen, well respected and admired. Came from one of the oldest families in Vigata. When the Americans arrived in '43, they made him mayor. And he remained mayor till 1955. After that he wanted to leave politics. The mother, Carmela Vasile-Cozzo--'

  'What'd you say?' said Montalbano, who until that moment had been following him distractedly.

  Vasile-Cozzo' Fazio repeated.

  She was probably related to Signora Clementina! If so, that would make everything easier.

  'Wait a minute' he said to Fazio. 'I have to make a phone call'

  Signora Clementina sounded happy to hear Montalbano's voice.

  'How long has it been since you last came to see me, you naughty man?'

  'Please forgive me, signora, but work, you know ... Listen, are you by any chance a relative of Carmela Vasile-Cozzo, the mother of Mariastella Cosentino?'

  'Of course. First cousins, the daughters of two brothers. Why do you ask?'

  'Signora Clementina, would you mind if I dropped by for a visit?'

  'You know very well how much I enjoy seeing you. Unfortunately I can't invite you to lunch, because my son, his wife, and my grandson are here. But if you want to come by around four in the afternoon

  'Thank you. See you later'

  He hung up and looked pensively at Fazio.

  'You know what I say? I say I don't need you anymore. Just tell me what the gossip is on Mariastella.'

  'What gossip? There's just the fact that she fell head over heels for Gargano. But they also say that there was never really anything between them.'

  'OK, you can go'

  Fazio went out, muttering to himself.

  'The blessed guy made me waste the whole morning!'

  At the Trattoria San Calogero the inspector ate so listlessly that even the owner noticed.

  'Got worries?'

  'A few.'

  He left and went for a walk along the jetty, out to the lighthouse.

  He sat down on his customary rock and lit a cigarette. He didn't want to think about anything. He just wanted to sit there and listen to the sea swashing between the rocks. But thoughts come even when you do all in your power to keep them away. And the thought that came into his mind concerned the Saracen olive tree that had been cut down. Now he had only the rock for a refuge. All at once, though he was out in the open air, he felt strangely as though he was suffocating, as though the space allotted to his existence had suddenly shrunk. By a lot.

  After they'd had their coffee and sat down in the living room, Signora Clementina began to speak.

  'My cousin Carmela got married at a very young age, to Angelo Cosentino, who was a nice, educated, open-minded man. They had only one child, Mariastella. She was a pupil of mine, and had a peculiar temperament.'

  In what sense?

  Well, she was very closed, reserved. Almost sullen. She was also very formal She later got an accounting degree at Montelusa. I think the fact that she lost her mother when she was only fifteen must have had a rather negative effect on her. From that moment on, she devoted herself to her father. She never went out of the house anymore.'

  Were they well off financially?'

  'They weren't rich, but I don't think they were poor, either. Five years after- Carmela's death, Angelo also died. Mariastella was twenty at the time, so she was no longer a little girL But she acted like one.'

  'What did she do?'

  'Well, when I found out that Angelo had died, I went to see Mariastella. I was with some other people, men as well as women. Mariastella came up to greet us, dressed in her usual fashion. She didn't wear black, not even when her mother died. Being her closest relative, I embraced her and tried to console her. But she stepped back from me and looked at me. "Why, who died?" she asked. My blood ran cold, my friend. She couldn't accept that her father was dead. The problem continued--'

  For three days,' said Montalbano.

  'How did you know?' Clementina Vasile-Cozzo asked, astonished.

  The inspector looked at her, even more astonished than she.

  'Would you believe me if I told you that I don't know?

  'Well, it lasted indeed three days. We all tried to find ways to convince her, all of us: the priest, her doctor, me, the people from the funeral home. Nothing doing. Poor Angelo's body lay there on the bed, and Mariastella could not be persuaded to
turn him over to the undertakers. Then--'

  'Right when you were about to resort to force, she gave in' said Montalbano.

  'Well,' said Mrs Vasile-Cozzo, 'if you know the story already, what point is there in my telling it to you?'

  'Believe me, I don't know the story' said the inspector, feeling uneasy. 'Yet it's as though somebody'd already told me the same story. Except that I can't remember how or where or why. Let's conduct an experiment. It seems to me that, if I ask you, say, "Did you all begin to think that Mariastella was crazy?," I already know your answer. "We didn't think she was crazy. We thought there was an explanation for why she was behaving that way."'

  'You're right,' said Signora Qementina, surprised. 'That's exactly what we thought. Mariastella was rejecting reality with all her might. She was refusing to be an orphan, without another person to lean on in life.'

  But, good heavens, how did he know even the thoughts of the characters in the story? Around 1970, he and his father had already been away from Vigita for years, and had no relatives or friends there, either. Therefore he couldn't have even heard the story from someone who'd experienced it directly. So what was the explanation?

  'And what happened next?'

  Tor a few years Mariastella got by on the little her father had left her. Then a relative found her a position in Montelusa and she worked there up to the age of forty-five. But she no longer socialized with anyone. Then, at a certain point, she left her job. She explained -- I forget to whom -- that she'd resigned because the drive to work and back frightened her. There was too much traffic, and this upset her'

  'But it's barely six miles'

  'What can I say? And to anyone who pointed out that to go into town, she also had to drive, she would reply that she felt safer on that road because it was familiar to her'

  'And why did she decide to start working again? Did she need the money?'

  'No. The whole time she'd been working in Montelusa she'd managed to put some money aside. I also think she had a small pension. Which, though small, was more than enough for her needs. No, she went back to work because Gargano sought her out.'

  Montalbano jumped straight out of his armchair, as though shot from a bow. Mrs Vasile-Cozzo gave a start at the inspector's reaction and put a hand to her heart.

  'They already knew each other?!'

  'Please calm down, Inspector. You nearly gave me a heart attack.'

  'I'm sorry,' said Montalbano, sitting back down. 'I thought it was she who'd introduced herself to Gargano'

  'No, here's how it went The first time Emanuele Gargano came to Vigata, he enquired as to the whereabouts of Angelo Cosentino, explaining that his uncle, the one who'd lived in Milan and brought him up, had told him that when Angelo was mayor he'd helped him out a great deal and saved him from bankruptcy. In fact, I myself remember that up until the 1950s there was a salesman named Filippo Gargano living in Vigata. Anyway, Gargano was told that Angelo had passed away and that the only surviving family member was his daughter, Mariastella. Gargano was very keen to meet her and ended up offering her a job, which she accepted.'

  'Why?'

  'You know, Inspector, Mariastella came to me herself and talked to me about this job. It was the last time I saw her. She never came to my house again. In any case, after her father's death we'd probably seen each other ten times, if that. The answer to your question, Inspector, is simple: she'd fallen naively and hopelessly in love with Gargano. It was clear to me from the way she talked about him. And I don't believe she'd ever had a boyfriend. Poor thing, you know what she's like...'

  'But why?' Montalbano repeated.

  Signora Clementina gave him a puzzled look.

  'Didn't you hear what I said? Mariastella fell--'

  'No, I'm wondering why a rogue like Gargano hired her. Out of gratitude? Let's not kid ourselves. Gargano's a shark. Who would slit the throats of his fellow sharks without a second thought. He had three employees in Vigata. One of these, the one who was murdered, was a clever young man, very skilled at his job, though he pretended to be incompetent, or almost. But Gargano understood at once what he was made of. The other was a beautiful girl. In her case, too, one can understand why Gargano took her on. But Mariastella?'

  'Out of self-interest,' the woman said. 'Pure self-interest. First of all, because in the eyes of the whole town, he would seem like a man who didn't forget anyone who had done him a favour, directly or indirectly. And this favour he repaid, in a sense, by hiring Mariastella. Don't you think that's a pretty good facade for a con artist? And, secondly, because it's always convenient for a man, con artist or no, to have a loving woman at his disposal'

  He thought he remembered that the King Midas office closed at five-thirty. Chatting with Signora Clementina, he'd lost track of the time. He thanked her, said goodbye, promised to come back soon, got in his car, and left. Want to bet he would find the office already closed? Driving past King Midas, he saw Mariastella outside the already closed front door, rummaging through her purse, probably looking for the keys. He found a space almost immediately, parked the car, and got out Then everything began to happen as in a slow-motion sequence in a film. Mariastella was crossing the street, head down, without looking to either her left or her right. All at once she stopped, at the exact moment a car was coming. Montalbano heard the screech of the brakes, saw the car ever so slowly strike the woman straight on, and then saw her fall, also very slowly. The inspector started running and everything returned to its normal rhythm.

  The driver got out and bent down over Mariastella, who was lying on the ground, though moving, trying to get back up. Other people were rushing to the scene. The driver, a well-dressed man of about sixty, was scared to death and white as a sheet,

  'She suddenly stopped!' he said. 'I thought that--'

  'Are you badly hurt?' Montalbano asked Mariastella, helping her get up. Then he turned to the others: 'Go on home! It's nothing serious!'

  Recognizing Montalbano, the people in the crowd that had formed began to disperse. The driver, however, didn't budge.

  'What do you want?' Montalbano asked him as he was bending down to pick up Mariastella's purse.

  'What do you mean, what do I want? I want to take the lady to the hospital!'

  'I don't want to go to the hospital, I'm fine,' Mariastella said firmly, looking to the inspector for support,

  'No, I insist!' said the man. "What happened was not my fault! I want a medical report!'

  'Why's that?' asked Montalbano.

  'Because maybe later on, this same lady might quietly come out and say she suffered multiple fractures, and 'I'll be in hot water with my insurance!'

  'If you're not out of my sight in one minute,' said Montalbano, I'm going to punch you in the face and you can bring me the medical report on that.'

  The man did not breathe a word, but simply got back in his car and drove off with a screech of the tyres, something he'd probably never done before in his life.

  "Thank you,' said Mariastella, offering him her hand. 'Good day.'

  'What are you going to do?'

  I'm going to get in my car and go home.'

  'Out of the question! You're in no condition to drive. Can't you see that you're trembling?'

  'Yes, but that's normal. It'll pass in a few minutes.'

  'Listen, I helped you out by keeping you from going to the hospital But now you must do as I say. I'll drive you home in my car.'

  'Yes, but how will I get to work tomorrow?'

  'I promise that by this evening one of my men will have your car parked in front of your house. Now please give me the keys, so I don't forget. It's the yellow Fiat 500, isn't it?'

  Mariastella Cosentino took the keys from her purse and handed them to the inspector. As they walked towards Montalbano's car, Mariastella was slightly dragging her left leg and holding her left shoulder very high, perhaps to lessen the pain.

  'Would you like to take my arm?' 'No, thank you.'

  Polite and firm. If she'd taken the
inspector's arm, what might people think, seeing her so free and easy with a man?

  Montalbano held the car door open for her, and she got in, slowly and carefully.

  She'd clearly taken a nasty hit.

  Question: What should it have been Inspector Montalbano's duty to do?