Angelica's Smile by Andrea Camilleri

consolation in it.
    He decided to open the letters.
    Three of them were of no importance, but the fourth . . .
    It was anonymous, and written in block capitals.
    It went as follows:
    MY DEAR INSPECTOR,
    PLEASE CONSIDER THIS LETTER A SORT OF GAUNTLET THAT I AM THROWING DOWN.
    AT ANY RATE YOU HAVE ALREADY ACCEPTED THE CHALLENGE BY TAKING ON THE INVESTIGATION PERSONALLY.
    AND SO I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF INFORMING YOU THAT, UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU, THERE WILL BE TWO MORE BURGLARIES.
    AFTER WHICH I SHALL GO BACK TO DOING WHAT I HAVE ALWAYS DONE.
    BUT I WILL HAVE HAD A LOT OF FUN.
    I’M ENTITLED TO HAVE A PASTIME LIKE ANYONE ELSE, AM I NOT?
    AND THE FACT THAT I’M DOING THIS JUST TO AMUSE MYSELF IS CLEAR FROM THE FACT THAT I LET MY COLLABORATORS KEEP ALL THE LOOT.
    IT IS UP TO YOU TO PREVENT THE NEXT TWO BURGLARIES, WHICH YOU CAN DO ONLY BY GUESSING THE TIME AND PLACE.
    CORDIALLY YOURS, AND WITH BEST WISHES.
    The letter had been sent from Montelusa the day before.
    The inspector called Fazio and handed it to him.
    Fazio read it and put it back on the desk without saying anything.
    “What do you think?”
    Fazio shook his head.
    “Bah!”
    “Come on, don’t make like the Sibyl. Speak!”
    “Chief, this letter seems totally useless to me. The guy wrote it just to write it. It has no purpose.”
    “So it would seem, to all appearances.”
    “Whereas?”
    “Well, first of all, it’s clear that the guy who sent it is pretentious. He may even be quite intelligent, but he’s definitely pretentious. And pretentious people can’t always control themselves. At some point they can’t help but try and show, whatever the cost, that they’re better than everyone else.”
    “And second?”
    “Second, he wants us to think that these burglaries are only an amusement, a pastime of his.”
    “Whereas?”
    “Whereas I’m under the impression that he’s looking for something, something specific, just one thing, the only thing he’s interested in.”
    “Something to steal?”
    “Not necessarily. Sometimes these burglaries have, well, collateral damage. When I was a deputy inspector, a house was robbed. The lady came and declared all the jewelry she lost. And then by chance, her husband saw the list. And he realized that there were a couple of earrings and a necklace that he hadn’t given her himself. It was her lover that had bought them for her. And the whole thing ended in a terrible row.”
    He spent the morning signing paper after paper, until his arm finally gave out.
    The ideal statue of a bureaucrat, he thought, should have its right arm in a sling.
    He headed off for Marinella, thinking he would find Livia on the beach, sunbathing.
    Instead he found her standing in the doorway of the house, all dressed up.
    “I have to go back to Genoa immediately.”
    “Why?”
    “They called me from the office, and two of my colleagues have called in sick. I didn’t have the heart to say no. You know how things are these days. They’re always looking for the slightest excuse to get rid of you.”
    Damn! Right when things were beginning to go so well between them.
    “Have you already changed the ticket?”
    “Yes, I’m on the five o’clock flight.”
    Montalbano glanced at his watch. It was exactly one o’clock.
    “Listen, we still have an hour at our disposal. I don’t have anything pressing to do, so I can drive you to Palermo. We can go straight away and have a quick lunch at Enzo’s, or we can . . .”
    Livia smiled.
    “Let’s do the second thing . . .” she said.
    The drive to the airport went smoothly until they reached the intersection at Lercara Freddi. Here the road was blocked, and a road policeman explained to Montalbano that two trucks had got wedged together, and they’d had to set up a detour.
    All at once they found themselves on a sort of dirt road in the middle of an ocean of snapdragons with immensely tall wind turbines rising up at regular intervals.
    Livia was spellbound.
    “You certainly have