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Hey everyone, it's Joe.

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This week, we're going to have a brief intermission

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in the investigation. But trust

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me, there are so many more

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twists and turns to come. And

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I am reporting on this every single

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day and night, both here and with

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the help of our stringers in Sicily. But

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first I want to give you a little snippet

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of the book that's inspired by this

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story. It's a novel, it's fiction.

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I made it all up. We talk a

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lot here about how my aunts

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and uncles and family members are

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myth makers and storytellers sometimes

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liars. Well, so

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am I, my friends. I am a novelist.

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I make things up. And so I

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wrote the novel The Sicilian Inheritance. In

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the midst of the pandemic. We

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were all locked away in our houses with our

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families, and we all

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wanted to escape,

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and so I wrote a delicious adventure

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and a murder mystery inspired by

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Lorenzo's story as my own escape.

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I wanted to transport both myself and

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my readers to the gorgeous, beautiful,

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and often broken island

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of Sicily. I do want

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to tell you there's no spoilers here. People

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are asking me if they can listen to the podcast and

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read the book at the same time. And the answer

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is yes, yes, yes, one

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is fiction, one is real, and they're

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both designed just to give you a little

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more Sicily. For the book

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The Sicilian Inheritance, I did imagine

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an American woman returning to Sicily

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to solve her family member's murder, and

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I did imagine exactly

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what that murder may have looked

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like in a police report. We

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thought it might be interesting to share with you the

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fictional version that I imagined of this

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murder. And as we keep

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reporting here and as you keep listening,

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we will see if my twisted brain

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matches up with the truth. Okay,

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I'm just going to set the scene for a second.

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Right now, our modern day woman, Sarah

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is in the village of Caltibalessa. As

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you can probably figure out, this is

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the fictional version of Caltabalota.

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Just changed a couple letters, and she's

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about to go to dinner at a delicious restaurant

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that may or may not be very similar

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to the one we just went to in our

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episode. She's with a local woman

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named Juicy, who is ultimately

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going to help her figure out how to solve

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this crime. We

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wove through the labyrinthian alleys and archways

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so low they touched the top of my head.

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The difference in town after siesta was striking.

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Even the stone walls vibrated with a newly

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awakened energy. A trio

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of little girls chased after us with sparkly

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fairy wands as we emerged into

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a raucous square filled with tables and chairs,

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all of them crowded with smartly dressed people

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eating and drinking. Each

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door and window overlooking the piazza

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was flung open. Waiters

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in crisp white shirts and black ties

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scurried around with trays of orange

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cocktails and maroon wine. This

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can't be real, I murmured,

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It isn't juicy, scoffed. They

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set it all up because they knew you were coming.

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Ha ha come.

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In the middle of the piazza, a large fountain

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gurgled around a statue of a woman holding

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a child. We took

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a left on the other side of the piazza and

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finally stopped in front of a rough wooden

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door with a bold brass knocker in

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the shape of a dragon's head. An

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Italian tricolored flag shuddered

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in the breeze from a pole above the door,

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but a much larger Sicilian flag

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eclipsed it. I gazed

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up at the billowing yellow fabric. Juicy

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smirked, I love that the

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head of Medusa is on our flag. Don't

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you She was a monster?

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I replied, Is

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she, Jucy said? Or

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was she a brilliant woman with the ability

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to turn men to stone when they abused

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her or tried to take everything

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from her? I had

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never thought about it like that. Juicy

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placed both her palms flat on the door and

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pushed the host to the server just

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waited beyond the entryway. He

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was so handsome. I stumbled a little as

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I followed him through the crowded room to

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the one empty table. Jucy

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caught me and pinched my hip. I

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get it, it's hard to look at him, she

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whispered. He's a beautiful sexy

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man. You think he'd leave this town

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already. But he has a sick mama and a slutty

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sister, and nieces and nephews with no papas,

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and they need the money and a man to stay

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with them. The

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beautiful sexy man pulled out both of our

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chairs and whisked away the centerpiece,

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a bowl holding absurdly large

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plastic fruit. There

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is no menu. He'll bring things,

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Juicy explained, and placed her elbows

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on the in front of her so she could

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lean closer to me. Juicy

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was the town gossip and travel guide you always

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wanted to meet on a trip but never did. With

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her, everything was either insanely beautiful

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or a terrible disaster. Cecily's

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beaches were the most gorgeous in the world, but

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two crowded with fat tourists and

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trash washing down from the filthy

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mainland. They also had

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the most magnificent beach clubs, if

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you didn't mind dancing with a bunch of coked

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up Brits. I

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absolutely had to visit the cursed village

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just ten miles to the north. A priest

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had recently performed an exorcism by helicopter

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to save all ten thousand souls

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who lived there from their utter depravity.

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As Juicy promised, the food began to

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just appear. No one asked if we

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had preferences, or nut allergies

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or gluten free diets. I

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loved it. The beautiful sexy

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man brought platters of anything he wanted

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from inside the kitchen. Eggplanned

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prepared seven different ways stuffed

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cuttlefish and anchovy's fried and crispy

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breadcrumbs. By

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the third caraffe of house wine, Juicy

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began to reveal secrets to me. Just

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then, a platter of what looked like a deconstructed

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cannoli, a pyramid of cannoli

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shells, separated by thin layers

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of amaretto cream and smothered

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in dark chocolate sauce, grased

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our table. A new

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guest pushed his way through the beaded entryway.

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He had to duck as he entered and shift his

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body sideways because his torso

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was as wide as two men.

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This man didn't just fill the doorway,

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he filled the entire room.

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The waiter led him to a table in the corner.

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Now that's who you need to talk to, Juicy

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nodded in the man's direction. What

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about what? He's the detective

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in charge of the local police.

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Her words startled me. I glanced

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nervously over at him. Why

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would I need to talk to police? Non

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so care la fronte stringere

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iltuo bucco doculo. Don't

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furrow your brow, Juicy said,

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you'll clench your asshole, and no

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one wants to walk around with a clenched asshole.

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I'd had too much wine and it was scrambling

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my thoughts. But when Jucy looked

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at me, her gaze was sharp, like

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something inside her brain had just decided to

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wake up, and I grasped that I

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was much much drunker than my host. I

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was a woman alone in a strange country, without

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a full grip on my faculties. I

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cursed myself for making such bad decisions,

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for always making bad decisions.

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Juicy kept talking. You

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go over there and talk to that man. I

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don't understand what you're telling me. When

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she spoke again, I realized Juicy knew much

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more about me and why I'd come to Sicily

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than she'd previously let on. She

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stared me dead in the eye. Who

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else are you going to ask about

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Sarah's murder? Now

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we're going to skip ahead a little bit,

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just a little bit. This is me, This is Joe editorializing.

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Now the two women are able to

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obtain the police report, and

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here it is. It was a photocopy

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of something that looked like a police report, all

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scribbled in Italian official

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looking type, marched across the top. Polizia

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di Menisipale, Commune dicotoballesa,

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thick lines, redacted entire sections.

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The words swam in front of my eyes. Eighteen

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Lulio, nineteen twenty five,

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am Chidio murder.

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I sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm

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the intense emotions welling up inside of

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me. Do you want me to translate

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it, she asked, I

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can do it. I focused harder

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on the page and translated in my head. I

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didn't want to hear the words out

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loud. I

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read about an unnamed witness who discovered

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the female victim approximately

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a half a mile from town. A

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hand drawn map had an actual

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X marking the spot. According

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to the witness, the woman's body was tied

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by the neck to a stake outside

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the entrance of a small cave.

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Come oncapra japertato al

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masacro like

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a goat, led to slaughter. I

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couldn't stop until I reached the end. As

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my aunt Rosie used to say to me, when

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you've stepped in the shit, you've got no choice

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but to keep walking until you get

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home to clean yourself up. I

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kept reading. The

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victim was naked from the waist down.

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Her left ankle was shattered with something

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heavy, possibly a rock. There

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were slash marks from a dull knife

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up the insides of both of her thighs.

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Her midsection was partially sliced

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through. There were purple bruises

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on her neck, a smashed

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windpipe stranglomento

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question mark strangulation.

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Whoever blacked out the document did a terrible

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job. The name of the victim was missing

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from the top of the page, but not the bottom.

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Victim Age thirty two. Name

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Sarah Fina, my

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great grandmother. And

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that's it. That is how I imagined

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this happened. We are finding

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out new details every day about

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what actually happened to Lorenza,

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who when I created a fictional

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version of her story, I named her Sara Fina.

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I think all of you will love this book. It

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is a murder mystery, It is an adventure. It is filled

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with delicious food and delicious wine,

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and most of all, it is

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going to make you want a book a trip to Sicily. The

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New York Times actually said that in their book

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review. They said, it will make you want

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to fly to Sicily. Maybe we're all going to

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go together. Maybe that is our plan. So

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please stay tuned to this podcast. Like

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I said, we have so many more episodes, with

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twists and turns and brand new details

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emerging every single day. I

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love that you're joining us on this adventure, my

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adventure. Stay subscribed

11:20

for the next installment.