The news knocks the wind out of Talaia’s sails. “But I am informed his yacht is moored in the Villa Igiea, in Palermo. My officers tell me the port authority record shows that he arrived a week ago. He was seen in Palermo.”
“His yacht may be there, Commissario, but I can assure you he isn’t.”
Talaia sits up and glares at him. “How do you know this, Signor Ross?”
“Because, Commissario, Claudio Maggiore is lying dead in a pumice warehouse near Porticello. I heard someone kill him a week ago.”
“You heard someone kill him?” Talaia mocks. “Was it a very loud gunshot?”
Ric expects him to be sceptical, so he holds his peace.
“Signor Ross, I heard San Bartolo’s effigy is made of silver, but I’m not about to try and lift it to find out if it is true.” He chuckles, “Although I believe the Germans found this out when they tried to steal it.” Then he, too, waits and watches.
When, eventually, the detective realises Ric is being serious, he sighs. “Va bene, tell me.”
Ric relates the curious episode of his arrival at Lipari: how he tied up to the bent and rusted stanchion of the old wharf; how he sat in the mist and listened to a man plead for his life; and how, when his explanations, excuses and apologies had all been taken into account, the man was strangled. When he’s finished, he too sits back once more and folds his arms.
Talaia smirks, clearly believing Ric is being over-imaginative in his story telling. “You know,” he says, “it is strange the tricks a mind can play on a man when he is fatigued. You say you heard voices? Did you recognise either of them? Was, perhaps, San Bartolo one of them?”
“Not that I recall, no.”
“Then how do you know if it was Claudio Maggiore who was being killed?”
“Because I’ve seen his dead body.”
“Oh, I see,” Talaia replies, dragging out his response to suggest he doesn’t see, at all. “You have not only heard this man being murdered, you have also seen his corpse.” He holds up his hands in surrender and looks up at Officer Paolo as if waiting for his confirmation that the story is too far-fetched to carry even the slightest ring of truth. He looks back, “Okay, Signor Ross, if you have seen Signor Maggiore’s corpse, where exactly is it?”
“Buried under a pile of rubble in the old La Cava warehouse at Pietra Liscia.”
“Spiaggia di Pietra Liscia,” Talaia repeats. He quiets for a moment and turns his attention to the surface of the desk. “The beach of smooth stones, you say? It sounds like a nice place. Do you know where this beach is?”
“Of course! It’s the last beach up the coast before Porticello.”
“I see; the last beach before Porticello?”
“Yes.”
Commissario Talaia smirks, briefly, and then stiffens. He blinks and rubs his eyes. “And does this killing of Signor Maggiore Claudio have any connection with this Beretta?”
“No, I had the gun on the Mara at that time. It was the last time I saw it. Listening to Claudio’s screams prompted me to retrieve it from the locker in case I was next. In the end I didn’t need it, so I replaced it. I probably put the Beretta down grip first, which is why it would have had my thumbprint near the muzzle.”
“Okay, Signor Ross,” Talaia decides, “I truly give up. I must say this was not what I expected; another corpse. Now I have two to deal with.”
Ric chuckles a little nervously and says, pretty much to himself, “At least they’ll make up for the two empty graves in the cemetery.”
Talaia looks up sharply, “Empty graves? What empty graves?”
“Long story, Commissario.”
“Aren’t they all? So, what we do from here is we have to go to Pietra Liscia to see for ourselves the body of Maggiore Claudio.” He turns in his seat and stares out the window for a few seconds: “Come to the sunny Aeolian islands,” he mutters. “Paolo, sai qual è la Spiaggia Pietra Liscia?”
“Si, Commissario.”
“Va bene. Prendi l’auto, per favore.”
The tall officer leaves the room.
To Ric he says, “Come, we will go find your corpse, if he hasn’t already drowned.”