I Will Have Vengeance Read Online Free PDF Page B

theater’s wardrobe department, for the principal actors she delivers the costumes directly. You’ve seen her, she’s that . . . large woman. Sicilian. Very, very capable. Anyway, she came and told me: ‘Sir, Vezzi isn’t opening the door. We knocked, we called, but he doesn’t answer.’”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œYes, she was with a young woman from wardrobe. There are thirty of them, I don’t know them all. They were bringing his Canio costume, the clown outfit that you yourself later saw the girl holding. I rushed down, in a hurry, there’s not a very long break between the end of
Cavalleria
and the beginning of
Pagliacci
, and Vezzi is . . . was . . . not always—how shall I put it?—precise and punctual. Sometimes he disappeared and we had to go looking around the theater for him, or even outside. He was one of the greats, you know: the greatest of all, onstage. But offstage, at times, he was difficult to manage. The kind who do whatever they like, and everyone else has to adapt. The privileges of talent.”
    â€œAnd did he go out tonight? Did you see him go out?”
    â€œNo, not me. But I’m always on the go, so he could have escaped my notice. In any case, I went down to the dressing room and I realized that the door was locked. That never happens. The singers, Vezzi especially, don’t get up to open the door when they’re putting on their make-up. I was worried.”
    â€œSo what did you do?”
    â€œAfter calling out to him myself, I thought Vezzi might not be feeling well so I kicked down the door. I was in the war, I’m used to seeing certain things. But I had never seen so much blood all at once. Signora Lilla came in behind me and screamed. Then everyone started running back and forth. I grabbed a stagehand and had him call you. Did I do the right thing?”
    â€œOf course. After you, did anyone else enter the dressing room?”
    â€œNo. Definitely not. I myself waited by the door until you came. I was in the army, I told you. I know how things should be done.”
    â€œOne last thing. The dressing-room door was locked, we said. But I haven’t seen the key, either on the inside or on the outside. Did you remove it?”
    Lasio ran his hands through his red hair, rumpling it even more, as he tried to remember.
    â€œNo, Commissario. The key wasn’t there, either inside or outside, come to think of it.”
    â€œThank you. You can leave the room, but don’t go away. I might need additional information. Maione, send in the two seamstresses.”
    Signora Lilla sailed into the room like an ocean liner, filling the office. She was blonde, with piercing blue eyes. Behind her was the young woman, who by contrast seemed even smaller and thinner, wearing a smock at least one size too big. The large woman crossed her arms and looked at Ricciardi belligerently. “What do you mean, ‘No one can leave the theater’? What do you think, that it was us? Look, all of us are here to work, we don’t come here to do such awful things. We’re decent people.”
    â€œNo one is saying anything. Sit down and answer my questions. Tell me what happened.”
    Heaving a sigh, the woman sat down heavily, as though having made her preliminary remarks, a weight had been lifted off her chest and she could now speak more politely. Or maybe it was because the Commissario’s determination, flashing out of those green eyes, brooked no opposition.
    â€œWe bring them down beforehand, the costumes. Long before. The normal singers try them on, ask for adjustments if needed, and that’s that. Him, instead . . . he wants twenty fittings. First it’s too short, then it’s too long. Too loose, too tight. The collar button doesn’t close. A real cross to bear. We’re on the fourth floor,
Commissa’
. If you’ll do us the honor, you’ll see for yourself how things are up there, thirty of