The Patience of the Spider (14 page)

Do you know whats up at TeleVig?

No. Why?

Theyve interrupted all their programming. Theres only

a notice saying that in ten minutes theres going to be a special

edition of the news.

I guess theyre acquiring a taste for it.

He hung up and rang Nicolto.

Whats this business about a special news broadcast at
TeleVig?

I dont know anything about it.

Have the kidnappers got back in touch with you?

No. But since we gave them no satisfaction last time . . .

The inspector went to the cafear the station. The television
was on, displaying a notice for the upcoming broadcast.
Some thirty people had gathered round, also awaiting the special
edition. Apparently word had spread fast. The notice then
disappeared, and the TeleVig News logo appeared, with the
words Special Edition underneath. When all this disappeared,
the chicken-ass face of Pippo Ragonese appeared.

Dear viewers, about an hour ago, in the morning mail, our
editorial offices received a perfectly normal-looking envelope,
posted in Vig, with no return address, and with our address
written in block letters. Inside was a Polaroid snapshot of Susanna
Mistretta, who is being held prisoner. We cannot show it
to you because we had it sent immediately to the magistrate
conducting the investigation, as it was our legal duty to do. On
the other hand, we believe it is our journalistic duty to inform
you of this development. Susanna is shown at the bottom of
some sort of dry well, wearing a heavy chain around her ankle.
She is neither blindfolded nor gagged. She is sitting on the
ground, atop some rags, her arms around her knees, and looking
up with tears in her eyes. On the back of the photo, also in
block letters, are the enigmatic words: To the person concerned.

He paused, and the camera zoomed in on him. A very
close close-up. Montalbano had the distinct impression that at
any moment a nice warm egg might come out of Ragoneses
mouth.

The instant we first learned of the girls kidnapping, our
hard-working editorial staff sprang into action. What point was
there, we asked ourselves, in kidnapping a girl whose family is in
no way able to pay any ransom? Thus we immediately steered
our investigation in what turned out to be the right direction.

Like hell you did, asshole! Montalbano said to himself. You
immediately fingered the immigrants!

And today weve come up with a name, Ragonese continued,
his voice sounding like something out of a horror
film. The name of the person who is in a position to pay the
ransom demanded. He is not the girls father, but perhaps her
godfather. The words on the back of the photo, To the person
concerned, are addressed to him. Out of our longstanding and
continuous respect for privacy, we wont mention his name.
But we implore him to intervene, as he can and must, without
any further delay.

Ragoneses face disappeared, and a hush came over the
cafMontalbano left and returned to his office. The kidnappers
had got what they wanted. Hed barely sat down when
Minutolo called again.

Montalbano? The judge just sent me the photo that asshole
was talking about. Do you want to see it?

Minutolo was alone in the villas living room.
Wheres Fazio?

He went into town. He had to go sign something for
some bank account of his, Minutolo replied, handing him
the photo.

Wheres the envelope?

Forensics kept it.

The photo looked a bit different from the way Ragonese
had described it. First of all, it was obvious she was not in a
well, but in some sort of cement vat or cistern a good ten feet
deep. It clearly hadnt been used for a long time, because on
the left-hand side there was a long crack that started at the
very top and ran about a foot and half downward, growing
wider at the end.

Susanna was in the position hed described, but she wasnt
crying. On the contrary. In her expression Montalbano noticed
a determination even stronger than hed seen in the
other photo. She was sitting not on rags, but on an old mattress.
And there was no chain around her ankle. Ragonese had
made it up, no doubt to add color. In any case, never in a million
years could the girl escape on her own. Beside her, but almost
outside the frame, were a dish and a plastic glass. She was
wearing the clothes shed had on when she was abducted.

Has her father seen this?

Are you kidding? Not only have I not let him see the
photo, I havent let him watch TV. I told the nurse not to let
him out of his room.

Did you inform the uncle?

Yes, but he said he couldnt come for another two
hours.

As he asked his questions, the inspector kept looking at
the photograph.

Theyre probably keeping her in a rainwater cistern thats
no longer in use, said Minutolo.

Out in the country?

Well, yes. They probably used to have these kinds of
tanks here in town, but now I dont think its very likely. Anyway,
shes not gagged. She could scream if she wanted to. If
she was in some inhabited area, people would hear her.

Shes also not wearing a blindfold, for that matter.

That doesnt mean anything, Salvo. They could put on
ski masks when they go visit her.

They must have used a ladder to put her down there,
said Montalbano. Which they lower whenever she needs to
come up. And they probably feed her by lowering a basket on
a rope.

If were in agreement, then, said Minutolo, Ill ask the
commissioner to intensify the searches across the countryside.
Especially around farmhouses. The photo, at least, was good
for one thing: We know now shes not being held in a cave.

Montalbano was about to hand back the photograph, but
changed his mind and continued to study it carefully.

Something not look right to you?

The light, replied Montalbano.

They probably just put a lamp down there.

Okay. But not just any lamp.

Youre not going to tell me they used a floodlight!

No. They used one of those lights that mechanics use . . .
You know, when they need to look at a motor in a garage . . .
One of those with a long cord ...See these regular lines of
shadow that intersect? Theyre a projection of the broad-mesh
screen that protects the lightbulb.

And so?

But thats not the light that doesnt look right to me.
There must be some other light source, because its casting a
shadow on the rim across from it. See? The person taking the
photo is not standing on the edge, but beside it, and hes leaning
forward to take the shot of Susanna below. This means
that the sides of the cistern are quite thick and slightly above
ground level. To cast this sort of shadow, the man taking the
snapshot must have some kind of light behind him. But, mind
you, if it was an intense light, the shadow would be deeper and
more sharply defined.

I dont see what youre getting at.

There was an open window behind the photographer.

So?

So does it seem logical to you for them to photograph a
kidnapped girl with the window open and not put a gag on
her?

But that merely confirms my hypothesis! Theyre holding
her at some godforsaken country farmhouse, and she can
scream all she wants! Nobody will hear her, even with all the
windows open!

Bah, said Montalbano, flipping the photo over.

to the person concerned

Written in block letters with a ballpoint pen by someone
clearly accustomed to writing in Italian. Still, there was something
odd, something forced, about the handwriting.

I also noticed, said Minutolo. He didnt try to falsify
his handwriting. It looks rather like somebody left-handed
trying to write with his right hand.

To me it looks like it was written slowly.

What do you mean?

I cant really explain it. Its as though somebody with
bad, almost illegible handwriting had forced himself to trace
every letter clearly, and thus had to slow down his normal
writing speed. Then theres another thing. The letter T beginning
the word the is written over something, as if to correct
it. One can clearly see that a W was written there first.
Hed probably intended to write To whom it may concern,
then changed it to To the person concerned. Which is more
precise. The person who kidnapped Susanna or masterminded
the operation is not just any old thug but someone who understands
the importance of words.

You really are very good, said Minutolo. But as things
stand now, where do your deductions lead us?

As things stand now, nowhere.

Then shall we try to think about what we need to do? In
my opinion, the first thing is to get in touch with Antonio Peruzzo.
Do you agree?

Absolutely. Have you got his number?

Yes. While I was waiting for you, I did a little research.
At present Peruzzo has three or four businesses that are subsidiary
to a kind of central office in Vig, called Progresso
Italia.

Montalbano sneered.

Whats wrong?

How could it be otherwise? In perfect keeping with the
times. Italys progress is in the hands of a crook!

Youre wrong, because officially everythings in his
wifes name, Valeria Cusumano. Although Im convinced the
lady has never set foot in that office.

Okay, call him up.

No, you call him. Set up an appointment and go talk to
him. Heres the number.

The scrap of paper Minutolo handed him had four phone
numbers on it. The inspector chose to dial the one for Senior
Management.

Hello? This is Inspector Montalbano. I need to speak
with Antonio Peruzzo.

Mr. Peruzzos out.

Montalbano felt his nerves begin to fray.

Outof the office? Outof town? Outof his mind?Out
of

Out of town, the secretary cut him off coldly, sounding
a bit miffed.

When will he be back?

I wouldnt know.

Where did he go?

To Palermo.

Do you know where hes staying?

At the Excelsior.

Has he got a cell phone?

Yes.

Please give me the number.

I really dont know if

Okay, you know what Im going to do? Montalbano
said in the sinister tone of someone unsheathing a dagger in
the shadows. Im going to go there and ask him for it myself.

No! Okay, here it is.

He wrote it down and phoned the hotel.

Im sorry, Mr. Peruzzo is not in his room.

Do you know when hell be back?

Actually, he wasnt even here last night.

The cell phone was turned off.

Well, what do we do now? asked Minutolo.

We jerk off big-time, said Montalbano, still on edge.

At that moment Fazio appeared.

The whole towns abuzz with rumors! Everybodys talking
about Engineer Peruzzo, the girls uncle. Even though
they didnt say his name on TV, everyone knew they meant
him. Two factions have formed; one group says the engineer
has got to pay the ransom, and the other says hes under no
obligation to his niece. But the first groups a lot bigger. They
almost came to blows at the Cafastiglione.

Well, theyve managed to screw Peruzzo, was Montal-
banos comment.

Im going to have the phones bugged, said Minutolo.

It didnt take long for the rain falling from heaven onto Antonio
Peruzzo to turn into the Great Flood. And this time, the
engineer hadnt had enough time to build himself an ark.

To all the faithful who went to the church to ask him his
opinion, Father Stanzillthe oldest and wisest priest in town,
said there was no doubt about it, human or divine: The uncle
must pay the ransom, since he was made the childs godfather
at her baptism. Moreover, by shelling out the money the kidnappers
were asking, he would only be repaying the girls

mother and father the huge sum he had pried away from them
by deceit. And the priest told everyone about the two-billion-
lire loan, a matter he knew all about, down to its finest details.
In short, headdedagooddoseof fuel to thefire.Itwasagood
thing for Montalbano that Livia didnt have any churchgoing
girlfriends who could tell her what Father Stanzillhought of
the whole affair.

On the Free Channel News, Nicolto announced to one
and all that Antonio Peruzzo, in the face of this specific obligation,
was suddenly nowhere to be found. Once again, the
engineer had behaved true to form.This flight from a life-and-
death matter, however, not only did not absolve him of his responsibility,
it made it weigh all the more heavily upon him.

On TeleVig, Pippo Ragonese proclaimed that since Peruzzo
was a victim of the communist judiciary who had managed
to remake his fortune thanks to the new governments
initiatives to spur private enterprise, it was his moral duty to
show that the confidence the banks and institutions had
placed in him was well-founded. Especially since rumor had
itand it was certainly no secretthat he was considering
running for public office among the ranks of those currently
renovating Italy. Any gesture that could be interpreted as a rejection
of public opinion on his part could have fatal consequences
for his political aspirations.

Titomanlio Giarrizzo, venerable former presiding judge of the
Court of Montelusa, declared in an unwavering voice to his
associates at the local chess club that if the kidnappers had appeared
before his bench, he would have condemned them to
the harshest of punishments but also praised them for having
exposed the true face of that notorious scallywag, Engineer
Antonio Peruzzo.

And Signora Concetta Pizzicato, who had a stand at the fish
market with a sign that read cuncetta the clairvoyant
fortune-tellers live fish, replied to any and all who asked if
Peruzzo would pay the ransom: Cu al sangu s mali / mori
mangiatu da li maiali, or He who harms his own flesh and
blood/ shall be eaten by pigs and die.

Hello? Progresso Italia? This is Inspector Montalbano. Have