Andrea Camilleri - The Age Of Doubt

An unlucky couple who had entered after him started showing signs of distress right after the first course. The woman raced to the restroom, perhaps to rinse out her mouth, while the man knocked back a whole bottle of wine to wash away the bad taste in his.

Back outside, he started walking, turned right as Lannec had done, then continued straight. A short while later, after crossing a side street, he saw the north entrance of the port come into view.

He headed in that direction. The moment he was past the gate, there were the Ace of Hearts and the Vanna , right in front of him.

Lannec and the sea.

The inspector became convinced that the Frenchman had come to the port to meet someone, not knowing he would meet his death instead. He had made a journey to go to the last appointment of his life.

Then, all at once, the bad lunch bubbled up in Montalbano’s throat in a burst of burning, acidic reflux. There was only one thing to do. He walked over to a stack of wooden crates, took cover behind them, stuck two fingers into his throat, and vomited.

He walked out of the port, retracing the steps he had taken, got in his car, and headed to Enzo’s trattoria. He went into the bathroom, rinsed out his mouth, then sat down at a table.

“What would you like, Inspector?” Enzo asked.

“The best thing you’ve got.”

“Ahh Chief! Ahh Chief Chief! Dacter Latte rang four times lookin f’ yiz!”

That colossal pain in the ass of the ruined documents.

“I’m not back yet. Is Augello here?”

“Nah, ’e ain’t onna premmisses.”

“How about Fazio?”

“Yessir, ’e’s ’ere.”

“Send him to me.”

The first thing the inspector noticed about Fazio was that he had a black eye.

“What happened to you?”

“A fist.”

“Whose?”

“Our friend Zizì’s, late last night.”

“Sit down and tell me what happened.”

“Chief, some time after nine o’clock last night I staked out a spot near Giacomino’s tavern and waited for the crew of the Vanna to show up. They didn’t come by until past eleven.”

“Who was it?”

“The whole crew. Alvarez, Ricca, Digiulio, and Zizì. I went in about half an hour later. They were talking and laughing, eating and drinking. Zizì was drinking more than the others. At a certain point he got up and started walking over to my table. Digiulio tried to stop him, but the Arab shoved him out of the way. I was just looking at him. So he planted himself in front of me with his legs spread and said: ‘What the fuck you lookin’ for, fucking cop?’ He spoke pretty good Italian. He’s one of those types who’s always looking for trouble.”

“And what did you do?”

“What could I do, Chief? I couldn’t just pretend nothing was happening. Everyone in the tavern had heard him. It wasn’t the kind of thing I could just let slide. I barely had time to stand up when the guy punched me so hard in the face I flew back against the wall. Then it was Ricca who tried to stop him, but he got punched himself. That Zizì’s a bull. But I was able to take advantage of the momentary distraction when he was busy with his friend, and I dealt him a swift kick in the balls. He fell to the floor, writhing in pain, and I slapped the handcuffs on him.”

“And what did you do with him?”

“I brought him here to the station and locked him up.”

“And where’s he now?”

“Still in the same cell.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“Let him be for now. When he wakes up, bring him to me. By the way, I want to show you something.”

He pulled out the passport and handed it to Fazio, who started thumbing through it.

“And who’s this Lannec?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s the body in the dinghy.”

And he told him the whole story, starting with his visit with Pasquano, continuing with his visit to Zito, and ending with his culinary nightmare at the Pesce d’Oro.

Fazio came out with one of his rare witty remarks.

“Chief, maybe the poor guy did go to eat at the Pesce d’Oro but they deny it because they poisoned him themselves.”

“Listen, can you recall whether we’ve had any dealings with this Lannec in the past?”

“I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“Because the name doesn’t seem entirely unfamiliar to me.”

“You could have met him anywhere, Chief, but I’m sure it wasn’t here.”

“Ahh Chief Chief! Jesus Christ, Chief! Jesus Christ and Mary and Joseph, Chief! I can’t hardly breathe, Chief!”

Catarella had knocked in his usual way, practically breaking down the door, and now he was acting like he’d been bitten by a tarantula.

“Calm down! What’s going on?”

“Iss Liutinnint Sferlazza!”

“On the phone?”

“Nah, Chief, ’e’s ’ere, poissonally in poisson!”

“What’s he want?”

“To talk t’yiz. But be careful, Chief, eyes open at all times!”

“Why?”

“’Cause ’e ain’t wearin’ a uniform, ’e’s in civvies!”

“And what does that mean, in your opinion?”

“‘When a carabiniere’s outta uniform, ’e’ll makes ya pay twice the norm!’ A’ss wha’ they say, Chief!”

“Don’t worry, show him in.”

Montalbano and the lieutenant had known each other for some time. And, though they might not admit it, they rather liked each other. After they shook hands, Montalbano had him sit down.

“Sorry to bother you,” the lieutenant began.

“Not at all! What can I do for you?”

“I was told that a certain Mr. Shaikiri, who’s one of the crew of a yacht called the Vanna , attacked one of your men, who then arrested him. Is that right?”

“Yes. On the other hand, I believe the carabinieri also arrested him, when he pissed on one of your cars.” The inspector paused a moment. “Then you released him almost at once.”

The lieutenant seemed a little uneasy.

“That’s just it. When he was inside, we received a phone call from the Regional Command, specifically about Shaikiri.”

“What did they want?”

“They wanted to know if we’d arrested him.”

Montalbano balked.

“How did they find out about it in Palermo?”

“Dunno.”

“It really doesn’t seem to me like the kind of thing that would interest the Regional Command.”

“Exactly.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I confirmed the arrest and they told me to hold him at headquarters, saying someone would be coming from Palermo the following morning to interrogate him.”

“For pissing on a squad car?”

“I was a little surprised myself. But I did as they said.”

“And did this person come?”

“Actually, no. They called me back and said the person who was supposed to question him had a problem and couldn’t come. And they said I should act in accordance with the law as far as Shaikiri was concerned. So I filed a report on him and then let him go.”

“And why did you come to see us today?”

“Because that person finally came. He’s at our station now and wants to talk with Shaikiri.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to turn the Arab over to you?”

“That’s right.”

“Out of the question.”

The lieutenant grew even more uneasy.

“The person who came-”

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. Apparently he’s from the antiterrorism unit. Anyway, as I was saying, that person, as soon as he found out you’d arrested Shaikiri, had also expected… well, that you would refuse to turn him over to us.”

“It was pretty easy to figure that out. So what’s he plan to do?”