The Namesake (13 page)
‘Nicaso was always breaking with tradition. That is one of the reasons he lost his
gelateria
.’
Basile’s laugh was joyless and asthmatic. ‘That is not the reason he lost his
gelateria
.’ He pointed to a heavy steel cabinet with fat glass jars filled with red and green liquid. ‘My strawberry and mint is commercial concentrate, sent down from Naples. Nicaso never did that.’
Basile pulled open the door of a refrigerator as large as the backdoor of a truck, and nodded to Salvatore to lift out a deep lozenge of stainless steel brimming with bright green ice cream, which started steaming as it entered the warmer air of the kitchen. Salvatore’s hand stuck briefly to the icy zinc, and he felt momentary pain.
‘Leave it to soften, Salvatore.’
Salvatore discreetly blew on his cold hands, and adjusted his white hat.
‘Would Agazio goad the authorities into inquiring into the activities of the Society in Rome?’ asked Basile. ‘Killing in Milan, which itself requires permission, and disposing of the body in Rome and mocking a magistrate as he did so? I am supposed to think that Agazio, who has always been subtle, disrespected the families in Rome and Milan?’
‘Perhaps he obtained permission from one or two of the families.’
‘And we heard nothing about it? That would be the worst option from our point of view. We can talk at the Feast of the Madonna next week, but I hope that that is as unlikely as it seems. For Curmaci, the assassination of the magistrate’s namesake is doubly destructive. It angers other ’
ndrine
and will make the authorities determined to get him. It is better to assume this is the act of a hotheaded and rash person. To my mind, that would exclude Agazio.’
‘You realize I have great respect for Curmaci,’ said Salvatore.
‘Of course you do.’
‘I also have great respect for Maria Itria.’
‘Naturally. She is a good woman.’
‘The magistrates and police grow more despicable by the day. I believe it is quite possible they used Curmaci’s wife to generate suspicion and dissent. Indeed, we do not even know whether Maria Itria received a phone call from the magistrate or made one of her own volition.’
‘Or whether the call took place at all,’ added Basile.
‘Indeed. But would you not say that Curmaci, who is above all a man of principle, might have allowed himself to be swayed by his rage at this dishonouring of his wife and delivered an unambiguous message to the magistrate? The fact that he did not kill the magistrate himself and cause an overreaction by the authorities in Rome stands to his credit and would be typical of the man’s admirable combination of severity and subtlety.’
‘You make a plausible argument, Salvatore. Even so, where self-interest blinds many, it enlightens some, and I have always considered Agazio an enlightened man . . .’
‘Another thing we must bear in mind, Capo, is the unfortunate trend towards independence in Lombardy and Germany. That has already led to the need for punishment expeditions to the north and forceful realignments. We are constantly working to maintain the faith and loyalty of the
locali
in Milan and Germany.’
‘That is a generational problem that affects the younger men in the ’
ndrine
of Lombardy. These youths speak with Milanese accents and deal with northern separatists who despise the south. But Agazio Curmaci is in some ways the opposite. He reinforces the rituals and maintains the tradition. He is not interested in independence. He was born in Gerace.’
‘Typical of the rebels is their willingness to use persons external to the Society. It seems East Europeans were used in this case,’ said Salvatore.
‘Why did I not know that?’
‘We have only just found out.’
Basile slowly removed his apron. Although it was splashed and stained, he folded it up as neatly as if freshly washed and ironed. ‘Salvatore, it pains me to say this, but could your suspicions of Curmaci be connected to your kinship with Tony Megale? Your father and Domenico Megale’s father were cousins and blood brothers.’
‘They were, and my sister married Domenico’s martyred brother.’
‘What happened to him was tragic. Some things are not healed by time.’
Salvatore bowed his head in memory of a brother-in-law killed thirty years earlier. Then, his posture still prayerful, he said, ‘It makes no sense for Tony Megale to have done this.’
‘Who was the fool who says otherwise?’ said Basile.
‘Not a fool, Capo. I can see his name in your thoughts.’
‘So now you read my thoughts and call me a fool?’ said Basile with a smile.
‘I would ask again,’ said Salvatore, ‘what interest could Tony have in doing something such as this?’
‘To make good men like you have evil thoughts about the Curmacis,’ said Basile. ‘If he and Agazio have had another falling out, as they did in the early years, Tony might have tried to frame Agazio.’
‘I think we must appeal to Domenico,’ said Salvatore.
‘Sadly, Domenico cannot make it to Polsi this year. They say he grew old in prison, though I believe he is no older than me. If Agazio and Tony have become enemies, it may well be a battle for succession. I would not wish to put Domenico in a difficult position. He has always expressed full faith in both Tony and Agazio, and, apart from that misunderstanding many years ago when they were immature, they have since expressed full faith in each other. Curmaci’s son Ruggiero has been partly brought up by Tony’s sister-in-law. Domenico cannot be seen to choose the wrong side, and it is inhuman to ask him to. It may be a decision we have to take for him. For now, his very silence is a message.’
‘We do nothing?’
Basile tested the thawing of the ice cream by pressing a small indent with his thumb. ‘Quarrels would not last long if the fault were on one side only. It might be both are to blame, it is more likely neither is.’
‘May I speak frankly?’
Basile sighed. ‘I would prefer to have this argument done with.’
‘So would I. But we will achieve greater peace and harmony by promoting the cause of Tony Megale. I say that not because we are related, but because his father . . .’
‘Not his natural father,’ interrupted Basile.
‘Even so. The Megales are more established. The Curmacis are new. Agazio’s father was the first. They have no roots.’
‘The Megales have few people left here. Perhaps they are on the wane.’
‘They have a man, Pietro.’
‘Pietro is limited.’
‘But he is a man. Curmaci left only his woman and her children.’
‘I say we do nothing for now.’
Salvatore nodded. It was time to play his trump card. He pulled out a phone, and placed it on the counter, amid the droplets now falling from the sides of the ice-cream container. ‘As you know, the Finance Police have tapped Agazio’s home number. This conversation took place last night. I had it sent to me as a matter of urgency. A captain of the Finance Police is about to get a new car, thanks to this act of cooperation.’
He pressed a button, and a woman’s voice could be heard. ‘That’s Maria Itria. The man she is speaking to is Agazio.’
‘I recognize their voices, Salvatore. They are talking about his arrival . . . what’s incriminating about that?’
‘Wait . . . coming up now.’
Maria Itria: ‘
What do you want for your dinner on your first night home with your family? Something special? A
spezzatino d’agghjìru
. I know just the person who can get me the ingredients.’
Agazio:
‘Too fancy. And you always overspice it. A good plate of
Maccarruni cu’zugu ra Crapa e ru Porcu
. That’s what I prefer.’
Maria Itria: ‘Maccarruni
cu’zugu ra Crapa e ru Porcu?
’
Agazio:
‘?
Si. Boni!
Also, it’s legal. Imagine if some policeman were listening to us now. If they had nothing better to do than to listen to us, then maybe they’d try to arrest you for killing and cooking a dormouse for your returning husband. Better cook me some pork and pasta!’
Basile raised his hands. ‘I don’t see what’s so damning about that.’
‘Capo, that was code.’
‘It may have been a joke code, Salvatore. They know the Finance Police are listening. Agazio even teases them.’
‘It was emergency code, Capo, and you know it. He sent her a warning.’
‘My ice cream is melting, Salvatore.’
‘He was telling her to flee.’
‘He was telling her eating dormice is illegal.’
‘He was trying to cover up the shocked pause she made when he asked for
Maccarruni cu’zugu ra Crapa e ru Porcu
. He knows about the confession and he’s trying to save her.’
‘Bring the tray of ice cream out into the cooler in the bar, Salvatore.’
Salvatore did as he was told, removing his white hat and flinging it onto the counter as he left the kitchen. He dripped the tray into the slot, and picked up a star-shaped sign on the end of a short spike, and sunk it into the green mass, muttering to himself, ‘Sickly . . . sits in the stomach like a brick, tastes of . . .’
‘Did you just stick the mint sign into my pistachio ice cream?’ said Basile, his voice coming from directly behind Salvatore’s head.
Salvatore kept his head bent down and his voice casual. ‘Silly mistake, Capo. I must be preoccupied with other things.’ He stuck in the right sign, and turned to face his boss.
‘I want the children to taste my latest ice cream,’ said Basile. ‘Have a group of them brought here after football practice tomorrow morning. Remove their phones, and we shall keep them out of circulation for a few hours. Agazio’s son Ruggiero and Tony’s son Enrico must be among them. They are best friends anyhow, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, they are.’
‘Good. They can stay here all afternoon.’
‘You know Enrico’s aunt will panic immediately if Enrico misses his lunch. You know what Rosa is like.’
‘I know about Zia Rosa. She has overfed and coddled that child. It is hard to imagine he is really Tony Megale’s son. Old Megale could at least disown him as not his flesh and blood, but Tony must claim him as his own. That child needs some toughening up. Ruggiero, on the other hand, is like a reincarnation of his father. I see something in him.’
‘I agree that Enrico is hardly a worthy successor, but he’s young yet.’
‘Not so young he can’t start acting like a man. Perhaps it is time to give him some lessons in courage.’
‘As I say, Zia Rosa will certainly panic when Enrico vanishes for a few hours. That could be misconstrued.’
‘I told you, I know. We shall consider how the families react and draw conclusions later,’ said Basile. ‘If Maria Itria, who keeps her neighbours at a distance, were to start phoning and visiting them inquiring in worried tones about Ruggiero, that, too, might signal a bad conscience. Do not forewarn the Megales or any other family, Salvatore. Make sure the sons of several families are here tomorrow. We must be seen to be just.’
Milan
‘I’ll have the sea bass,’ said Magistrate Bazza. ‘And you?’
Magistrate Fossati shook his head. ‘I can never get used to the idea of fish in Milan . . .’ He looked at the menu without enthusiasm. ‘I’ll have the mix of cold cuts,’ he told the waiter. ‘Just water to drink.’
The waiter collected the menus and left.
‘You should try the fish.’
‘You know I’m from Livorno, Ezio. When I visit my parents’ graves, I eat fresh local fish. My mother used to make a fantastic
cacciucco
. Actually, I don’t usually eat at lunchtime. I’d have preferred to meet for dinner in the usual place.’
‘I wanted to meet as soon as possible,’ said Magistrate Bazza. ‘Have you got the file on the missing girl?’
‘Teresa Resca. Yes.’ Fossati glanced around the room, then handed the file to his friend.
Bazza ate breadsticks as he glanced through the pages, then handed them back.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t help.’
‘No?’
‘Definitely not organized crime. But that I can’t help is in itself an important pointer. For one, the modus operandi is needlessly complicated. From what I can see here there was a long stakeout in broad daylight, they depended on public transport and relied on a certain amount of luck. But I had my mind made up before I even looked at your file. This is not a Mafia abduction.’
‘Are you supposed to make up your mind like that before you even see the file?’ said Fossati.
‘There’s not much in that file that isn’t already in the public domain. Nothing to make me change my mind. This has nothing to do with the Ndrangheta or any other Mafia.’
‘Don’t the bastards you deal with ever reserve unpleasant surprises for you? Don’t they ever act out of character? I mean if you really knew everything about how they operate . . .’
‘You know how it works, Francesco. Intelligence gets you only so far. We know a hell of a lot but can’t act upon it. The Northern League and Berlusconi have cut our funding. Did you know that my colleagues in Calabria have to wash their own cars? And they can get fined for insubordination if they don’t. Then that creep Maroni with his pervert’s moustache and red glasses comes on TV and says his Ministry has done more to combat . . .’