This is a short message from inspector Mr Benedetti Angelo, born in Monza on 21st August 1987. I confess that I am the only person responsible for the murder of Mr Onofrio Palillo, which occurred in Palermo on the 18th April of this year. I also acknowledge that I murdered Mr Palillo as I had incurred a huge debt that I was unable to pay. I was the person who searched through the documents in his apartment. It was me that tore the pages that would have led to my capture, from the notebook. In the kitchen at my apartment you’ll find a set of knives from which the weapon used to kill Mr Palillo is missing. I apologize to all for what I have done and especially all those who have paid for my mistakes. I cannot live with this sense of remorse.
The last letter written by Angelo Benedetti, was corroborated by two testimonies, agent Sciurba's and deputy police superintendent Domenico Fisichella's. It left no room for doubt. The set of kitchen knives was found in Mr Benedetti’s apartment. The charges against me were dropped. Nobody apologized to me. That’s the way it goes down here in Sicily.
Mr Palillo’s henchman, Salvatore Marchese, also known as Big Jim, was finally arrested. He was charged with usury, assault and blackmailing a few days after Mr Benedetti’s death. An off duty policeman had seen him at the entrance to a betting shop near Guadagna. He had been hiding away with one of his relatives who also had a criminal record. He ended up at the Ucciardone prison where he crossed paths with my friend Pino Mistretta. Pino mentioned it in one of his letters.
According to rumours, the head of the homicide team, police commissioner Mr Aronica, was transferred to another office after the unfortunate series of events that involved both the police department and the court. Our newspaper sadistically emphasized the gravity of the situation for a few days.
We decided to have a meal to celebrate my first day as a free man. My mother, Roberto and his family (who had returned from their forced holiday) and Maria, who was relieved but not happy, were all at the table with me. The kids infected everyone with carefree joy. Rebecca wouldn’t stop talking to me and Giacomo wouldn’t let his dad eat in peace. Roberto kept me company outside the restaurant as I was smoking a cigarette. He told me details about the investigation that I hadn’t heard before and about everything Mr Fisichella had done to help us. During our conversation, my mobile phone notified me that I had received a text from Sveva. Her name made me think back to that afternoon. I deleted her text without reading it.
The following morning I hopped on my motorbike and drove towards the seaside. Mondello was already full of bathers so I avoided the beach and carried on towards Capo Gallo. A few people had chosen to sunbathe there, but I found my peace on top of an isolated rock. I knew time and solitude would be the only things to heal my scars.
“I’m pushing an elephant up the stairs,” Michael Stipe sang in my earphones.
I knew that the worst was yet to come, but I couldn’t and I didn’t want to climb up that hill with anyone.
On my way home, I finally decided to break up with Maria. She had been the most important woman in my life, but I no longer had a life. Something had broken inside me. I had to glue all the bits back together, but I wasn’t sure that I could rebuild it as it had once been.
Breaking up with a woman was one of my specialties. I knew a handful of infallible, pain-free ways of ditching a woman and I had used them all multiple times before giving up my glorious life as a single man. I knew it wouldn’t be the same with Maria. R.E.M. were right – I had to start pushing the elephant up the stairs right here, right now.
Maria was waiting for me in the living room – she was sitting in my favourite armchair reading a book by Roth. The stereo was quietly playing a tune by Pat Metheny. James, my favourite one.
Her face looked calm and relaxed – I hadn’t seen that expression for a long time. I loved her, but it wasn’t the kind of love that tears you apart. No more.
Maria stood up, dropped the book on the armchair, and walked towards me.
She smiled at me, caressed my hair and asked me to sit down. I sat on the same chair that I had sat on when I’d asked her to live with me. She got another chair and sat in front of me.
“So what?” She asked me.
“I’ve been alone for a bit, maybe that’s how it should be for now.”
Maria nodded, her arms were crossed and she was staring at me. I’d said it. Kind of. But it wasn’t enough.
“What exactly do you mean?”
“What I’ve just said – I might need to be alone for a while.”
I was hanging cowardly onto that for a while. I couldn’t stare back into her eyes.
“When did you decide that you didn’t want to share your life with me any more?” She asked in a decisive tone, without sounding bitter or angry.
“I don’t know, Maria. I don’t even know if I ever decided that. I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I want right now. I just need to try to forget and I think I’m better off doing that by myself.”
She stared at me and shook her head. Her lips, which had been a haven of peace, my hideaway, and my only desire wrinkled into an expression of slight disappointment. She had changed, my lovely Maria. I hardly recognized her.
“I love you, Fabrizio. I’m glad I’ve been part of your life,” she said. She stood up and walked out of the room.
“Wait,” I tried to speak. A few moments later, she was back in front of me holding two big bags. She’d already prepared to leave while I was away.
“I’ll come and pick up the rest of my stuff some other time when you’re not around. I’ll leave the keys with your brother.”
I stood up to walk towards her but I didn’t know what to say.
Maria caressed my cheek and then kissed it. She picked up her bags and left the house without saying anything else.
“Bye,” I muttered, as I stared at the closed door.