Antonio Tabucchi - The Missing Head of Damasceno Monteiro

— Zomig?

It’s an American remedy which has only lately come on the market here, it’s the only thing to relieve an unbearable attack of migraine. Attached to my legal statement is a medical certificate attesting to the migraine headaches I have been subject to ever since Angola, where a mine blew up right beside me and burst an eardrum. For that reason and that reason only did I leave my post, and that is the only offense, if it can be called an offense, which I shall have to answer for to the Court: that I fled the field, I who on the battlefield in Africa never left the field.

— And in so doing you left Damasceno Monteiro lying dead on the floor?

That’s what happened. I don’t know what my colleagues did after I left.

— Who were they?

I don’t wish to give any names. I have already stated them to the examining magistrate and they will be mentioned at the trial.

— And what about the corpse of Damasceno Monteiro?

You must understand the anguish, the bewilderment of two poor recruits left with a corpse on the station floor. I make no excuses for them, but I can understand why they removed it.

— But this is a criminal act, called concealment of a corpse .

Certainly, I agree with you, it is concealment of a corpse, but I say again that you must understand the anguish of two simple recruits who find themselves in that sort of situation.

— When Damasceno Monteiro’s body was found it had been decapitated.

Almost anything can happen in parks these days.

— You mean that when Damasceno’s body was removed from the station it still had a head on it?

That is something which will emerge at the trial. As far as I am concerned I will swear by my boys. I can assure you that my subordinate officers are not head-hunters.

— You mean that in your opinion Monteiro’s head was cut off in the park?

There’s a lot of odd people around in the parks of this city.

— It would be difficult to accomplish such a feat in a park, according to the autopsy the beheading was an extraordinarily clean job, as if it had been done with an electric carving knife, and electric knives have to be plugged in .

If it comes to that there are butcher’s knives that cut far cleaner even than an electric knife.

— Nevertheless it has come to our knowledge that the body of Damasceno Monteiro bore signs of having been tortured. There were cigarette burns on his chest .

We do not smoke cigarettes my dear sir, and you can put that down in your paper. No one smokes in my offices, I have expressly forbidden it, I have even put up notices to that effect on the walls. In any case you will have seen what the State has at last decided to print on every package of cigarettes? That smoking is seriously damaging to health.

“CONGRATULATIONS, YOUNG MAN, you did a good job there.”

The lawyer was deep in his armchair under the bookshelves, in the room that morning there was an unusual fresh smell, a mixture of lavender and deodorant.

“Phew, what a stench,” said Don Fernando, “the concierge has been in, she can’t bear my cigars and I can’t bear her wretched sprays.”

Firmino noticed that the cards on the card table were all in stacks face upwards.

“Did you get out your game of patience?” he asked.

“This morning I did,” replied the lawyer, “every so often I bring it off.”

“That Titânio is a slimy character,” observed Firmino. “The things he says, and the gall of the man!”

“Were you expecting anything better?” asked the lawyer, “It’s the version he will stick to in court, and in those selfsame words, because this Titânio can plainly operate on only one stylistic level, however the records of trials are not published in the newspapers, but you have already let the reader know how the Green Cricket talks. And with this in my opinion your task is finished.”

“Really finished?” asked Firmino.

“At least for the moment,” replied the lawyer, “all the documents have been registered and the preliminary examination is closed, so we only have to wait for the trial. Which will be soon, perhaps sooner than you imagine, perhaps we will have occasion to meet again at the trial, who knows.”

“You think it will come off so quickly?” asked Firmino.

“In cases such as this there are two possibilities,” replied the lawyer, “the first is that they put off the trial until doomsday, so that people will forget, in the hope that some great national or international scandal will come along to occupy the whole attention of the press. The second is to resolve matters as soon as possible, and I think they will choose this second course, because they have to demonstrate that the course of justice is swift and efficient and that the public services, in this case the police, are transparently honest and above all democratic. You get the idea?”

“I get the idea,” replied Firmino.

“Besides, you have a fiancée,” continued the lawyer, “and one can’t leave fiancées alone too long, otherwise they get dejected and pine. Go off and make love, it’s one of the best things you can do at your time of life.”

He turned his inquisitorial little eyes on Firmino as if expecting confirmation. Firmino felt himself blushing and gave a nod.

“And then there’s your study of the post-war Portuguese novel, that’s another task awaiting you, isn’t it? Go back to Dona Rosa’s and pack your bags, if you hurry there’s a train at 2:18, but it’s no great shakes, it stops even at Espinho, the next train is at 3:24, or else there are the 4:12 and the 6:10, take your pick.”

“You certainly have the train times at your fingertips,” said Firmino, “I imagine you travel that line pretty often.”

“It’s twenty-five years since I did so,” replied the lawyer, “but I like train timetables, I find they have an intrinsic interest.”

He got up and made for the bookshelves on one side of the room, where there were old books lavishly bound. He took out a slender volume bound in fine leather with silver-tipped corners, and held it out to Firmino. On the parchment fly-leaf was stamped the name of the bookbinder and a date: “Oficina Sampayo, Porto 1956.” Firmino leafed through it. The cover of the original volume, which the binder had retained, was of stiffish paper, but yellowed with time, said in French, German, and Italian: Timetable of the Swiss Railways. Firmino examined it quickly and looked inquiringly at the lawyer.

“Many years ago,” said Don Fernando, “when I was studying in Geneva, I bought that timetable, it was a commemorative publication of the Swiss railways, and the Swiss railways run on the dot as only the Swiss can make them, but the best of it is that they consider Zurich the center of the world, for example, turn to page four, after the advertisements for hotels and watches.”

Firmino looked up page four.

“It’s a map of Europe,” he said.

“With all the railway lines,” added Don Fernando, “each with its number, and each number refers to the lines in every country in Europe and the appropriate page. From Zurich you can reach the whole of Europe by train, and the Swiss railways indicate all the times for making your connection. For example, do you wish to go to Budapest? Turn to page sixteen.”

Firmino looked for page sixteen.

“The train for Vienna leaves Zurich at 9:15 from platform 4, am I right?” said the lawyer. “The connection for Budapest, the best one, which is marked with an asterisk, is at 9 PM, it is the best because it enables one to catch the train coming from Venice, the timetable informs us of the services available, in this case couchettes for four persons (the cheapest), wagonslits for two or private for one, restaurant car and possible light refreshments for the night. However, if you wish to go on to Prague, which is on the next page, you have only to choose between the various possibilities offered by the Hungarian railways, are you checking the text?”