TE23 Double Feature

A Conspiracy of Talkers

Gaetano Savatteri

opinion.” “Your Honor, I have to go to the station,” the chief said to the judge. “If you want to go home after concluding the formalities with Corporal Nanìa, don’t worry. We’ll handle things. It’s damp out tonight.” The judge was stunned by this maternal solicitude. If anything, Chief Perez had always harbored a bit of envy for the judge, for the home where his wife had by now filled a bedwarmer with hot coals and placed it under the sheets. “Damp, yes. Nice weather for the dead.” The judge barely uttered the phrase before realizing how inappropriate it was. But he’d only meant the festival, with its sweets made of dried figs and almonds that heralded the coming winter. “Don’t worry, Your Honor, we’ve already notified the family. Go get some rest. We’ll be here.” “He’s hot on the trail,” thought the judge, who loved the tales and terminology of the hunt, even if he himself had not taken aim at a rabbit recently. Appearing in the countryside carrying a rifle had lately become too perfect an opportunity for anyone who wanted to get 318

rid of you, shedding tears afterwards over the unfortunate accident. Chief Perez left in a hurry, crossing the piazza. His ample shadow sliced through the yellow light from the shops still open. In front of the cathedral, he stopped to speak to two men. All three disappeared around the corner, heading towards the police station. “The righteous one pays for the sinner,” thought the judge. The phrase suddenly erupted from childhood memories. Those words bore the rhythm and tone of his mother when she spoke them, of helpless resignation and complacent suffering. The judge turned back to the mayor’s corpse. He was struck by the terrifying idea that here before him was an act of justice, substantial and concrete. Unlike his judgments. “Shall we conclude the formalities, Your Honor?” the voice of Nanìa roused him. “Let’s conclude, Corporal, let’s conclude.”

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