Andrea Camilleri - The Dance of the Seagull

“Inspector, normally I know where these guys piss, how much time they take to do it, and I’m always in touch with them via radiophone. And when they’re done, they tell me they’re on their way in.”

“And so?”

“Even the captain of this boat, whose name is Maria Concetta —”

“The captain’s a woman?”

“Nossir, he’s a man.”

“So why does he have a woman’s name?”

“It’s the boat that has a woman’s name, sir. The captain’s name is Salvatore Aureli.”

“Okay, and?”

“Captain Aureli’ll tell me he’s coming in with the others, but then will put in an hour late, sometimes an hour and a half.”

“Does his boat have a slower engine?”

“Nossir, on the contrary.”

“So why’s he coming in late?”

“That’s the mystery, Inspector. I think the whole crew’s in on it.”

“In on what?”

“That sea’s full of traffic, Inspector. Worse than an autostrada, know what I mean?”

“No.”

“I think—but it’s only what I think, mind you—I think he stops somewhere to load.”

“To load what?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“Listen, Signor Rizzica, I haven’t got time for guessing games.”

“In my opinion, Inspector, they’re trafficking drugs. An’ if anyone finds out about this, I don’ want any part of it.”

“Drugs? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure, no. But, you know . . .”

“And what sort of explanations has Aureli given for being late?”

“He comes up with a new story every time. Once it was because the motor seized up, another time the net got caught—”

“Listen, perhaps it’s best if you go at once and talk to Inspector Augello about all this. But first I’d like to ask you one question.”

“Sure, by all means.”

“Have you ever happened to see a seagull die?”

Hardly expecting such a question, Rizzica gave him a bewildered look.

“What’s that got to do with—”

“It’s got nothing to do with it, nothing at all. It’s just something I’m personally curious about.”

The man thought it over briefly.

“Yes, there was one time, when I had only one trawler and was boarding the boat, I saw a gull fall down dead.”

“Did it do anything before dying?”

The man grew even more bewildered.

“What was it supposed to do, write a will?”

Montalbano got irritated.

“Listen, Mizzica—”

“Rizzica.”

“—don’t get wise with me! I asked you a serious question.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

“So, what did it do before it died?”

Rizzica thought about it for a minute.

“It didn’t do anything, Inspector. It fell like a rock into the water and just floated there.”

“Ah, so it died at sea,” said Montalbano, disappointed.

If it fell into the water, there was no way it could have performed its dance.

“I’ll show you into Inspector Augello’s office,” he said, getting up.

Was it possible that nobody else had ever seen a seagull dancing as it died? Was he the only one? Who could he ask? The telephone rang. It was Livia.

“Did you know your refrigerator’s empty?”

“No.”

“This is clearly an act of sabotage by your beloved Adelina. You told her I was coming, and the woman, who obviously hates me, cleaned it out.”

“Good lord, such strong words! She doesn’t hate you, you just don’t particularly like each other, that’s all.”

“So you put me on the same level as her?!”

“Livia, for heaven’s sake, let’s not start! There’s no need to make a big fuss over an empty refrigerator. You can come and have lunch with me at Enzo’s trattoria.”

“And how will I get there? On foot?”

“All right, then, I’ll come and pick you up.”

“How soon?”

“Jesus, Livia, I’ll come and get you when it’s time.”

“But can’t you give me even a vague idea of when—”

“I said I don’t know!”

“Listen, don’t get up to your usual tricks, I won’t stand for it!”

“And what are these usual tricks of mine?”

“When you say you’ll be there at a certain time and you show up three hours late.”

“I’ll be extremely punctual.”

“But you haven’t told me what time you—”

“Livia, stop! Are you trying to drive me insane?”

“You already are insane!”

He hung up. And less than thirty seconds later, the phone rang. He grabbed the receiver and yelled angrily:

“I am not insane! Understand?”

There was a slight pause, and then Catarella began to speak, voice quavering.

“Chief! I swear on my mortal soul an’ dead body, I nivver tought you wuz insane! I nivver said it!”

“Sorry, Cat, I thought you were someone else. What is it?”

“Iss Fazio’s wife is what it is.”

“On the phone?”

“Nossir, she’s ’ere poissonally in poisson.”

“Show her in.”

Why had Fazio sent his wife? Couldn’t he have just phoned if he was sick?

“Hello, Grazia. What’s wrong?”

“Hello, Inspector. I’m so sorry to bother you, but—”

“No bother at all. What is it?”

“You tell me.”

Good God, what did that mean?

Signora Grazia, to judge from her eyes, looked worried and troubled.

Montalbano decided at once to try to find out more, in the hopes of gaining some understanding and responding properly.

“Meanwhile, please sit down. You seem upset.”

“My husband went out last night at ten o’clock, after you called him. He said he had to meet you at the port. And I haven’t heard from him since. Usually when he stays out all night he gives me a call. But this time he didn’t, so I’m a little worried.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. But in fact he hadn’t called Fazio the night before. And they didn’t have an appointment at the port. What on earth was the good man up to?

At any rate, the first thing to do was to calm down the wife. And thus began an Oscar-caliber performance. Montalbano let out a sort of groan and slapped himself loudly on the forehead.

“ Madonna mia! I completely forgot! I’m so sorry, signora, but it totally slipped my mind!”

“What, Inspector?”

“Your husband had told me to phone you, since he couldn’t! And to think he’d repeated it to me so many times! And I, like an idiot—”

“Please don’t say that, Inspector.”

“Good God, I’m so sorry to have made you worry so! But rest assured, Grazia, your husband is just fine. He’s involved in a very delicate—”

“That’s enough for me, Inspector. Thank you.”

She stood up and held out her hand.

Fazio’s wife was a woman worthy of the man. Of few words and great dignity, she never, on the few occasions the inspector had eaten at their house (but what a terrible cook!), got involved in the two men’s conversation when they discussed work-related matters.

“I’ll see you out,” said Montalbano.

He accompanied her to the parking lot, still apologizing, and watched her get into her husband’s car. Which meant that Fazio hadn’t taken it to go wherever he’d gone.

He went back into the station and stopped in front of the closet that served as a switchboard room. He said to Catarella:

“Call Fazio for me on his cell phone.”

Catarella tried twice in rapid succession.

“Iss off, Chief.”

“Then tell Inspector Augello to come to my office at once.”

“But ’e’s still wit’ Signor Mizzica.”

“Tell him to tell the guy to fuck off.”

What could have possibly happened to Fazio? he wondered, worried, entering his office.