IM10 August Heat (2008) by Andrea Camilleri

house I’d rented, they did more damage than the fire.”
    Not a word about the illegal apartment.
    “Do you intend to inform Signora Gudrun?”
    “Of course, of course. But she certainly doesn’t know anything about this. It must have been an idea of Angelo Speciale’s. I’ll have to take care of everything myself.”
    “Are you going to apply for amnesty?”
    “Well, I don’t know if—”
    “Look, Signor Callara, don’t forget I’m a public official. I can’t just look the other way.”
    “What if—just supposing, mind you—what if I inform Spitaleri and have everything put back the way it was—”
    “Then I will charge you, Signora Gudrun, and Spitaleri with illegal construction.”
    “Well, if that’s the way it is . . .”
     
     
     
    “Look at that! Look at that!” was Signor Callara’s exclamation of wonderment as he entered through the bathroom window and saw everything ready for use.
    With flashlight in hand, Montalbano led him into the other rooms.
    “Look at that! Look at that!”
    They arrived in the living room.
    “Look at that! Look at that!”
    “See?” said Montalbano. “Even the casings are ready for installation.”
    “Look at that! Look at that!”
    As if by chance, the inspector let the beam of the flashlight fall upon the trunk.
    “And what’s that?” asked Callara.
    “Looks like a trunk to me.”
    “What’s inside? Have you opened it?”
    “Me? No.Why would I have done that?”
    “Would you lend me the flashlight a minute?”
    “Here.”
    Everything was going as planned.
    Callara opened the trunk, and when he aimed the beam inside, he did not say “Look at that,” but took a great leap backwards.
    “Ohmygod! Ohmygod!”
    The beam of the flashlight trembled in his hand.
    “What is it?”
    “But . . . but . . . there’s a . . . there’s a . . . dead person!”
    “Really?”

5
    Thus, with the dead body’s deadness now official, the inspector could look into doing something about it.
    First, however, he had to do something about Signor Callara, who, having dashed outside through the window, was now vomiting up what he had eaten the week before.
    Montalbano opened the real apartment upstairs, made Signor Callara, who was feeling very dizzy, lie down on the sofa in the living room, and went to get him a glass of water.
    “Can I go home?”
    “Are you kidding? I can’t drive you home.”
    “I’ll call my son and have him come get me.”
    “Not on your life! You have to wait for the public prosecutor! It was you who discovered the body, no? Would you like a little more water?”
    “No, I feel cold.”
    Cold? In this heat?
    “I’ve got a blanket in the car. I’ll go get it.”
    His role as Good Samaritan over, he called the station.
    “Catarella? Is Fazio there?”
    “He’ll be comin soon.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “He phoned just now sayin zackly: I’ll be there in five minutes.What I mean is, he will be here in five minutes, not me, since I’m already here.”
    “Listen, a dead body’s been found, and I want him to call me at this number.”
    He gave him the telephone number of the house.
    “Hee, hee!” said Catarella.
    “Are you laughing or crying?”
    “Laughin, Chief.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “ ’Cause normalwise iss always me tellin you when summon finds a dead body, an’ now iss you tellin me!”
     
     
     
    Five minutes later, the telephone rang.
    “What is it, Chief? You find a dead body?”
    “The head of the agency that rented the apartment to my friends found it. Luckily they’d already left before this wonderful discovery was made.”
    “Is it fresh?”
    “I don’t think so. In fact, I would rule that out. But I didn’t get a good look at it, ’cause I had to give a hand to Signor Callara, poor guy.”
    “So, it’s the same house where I sent the firemen?”
    “Exactly. Marina di Montereale, Pizzo district, the house at the end of the dirt road. Bring some support. And inform the prosecutor, Forensics, and