What is it?'
The man dictated it to Fazio, who wrote it down. It wasn't the same. It seemed more like a number from the Montereale area.
'Are you from around here, Mr Pellegrino?'
‘ No, I've got a house near Montereale.'
'So why did you have a house built between Vigata and Montelusa?'
He'd just put his foot deep in his mouth, and he realized this at once. Fazio hadn't told him where the villa was located. And indeed the sergeant began staring at the inspector, his eyes narrowing to tiny little slits. But Pellegrino probably thought the two cops had already discussed things when Fazio was called out of the room; he did not seem surprised by the question.
It's not mine. It belongs to my nephew, one of my brother's boys. He's got the same name as me.'
'Ah!' said Montalbano, feigning astonishment. ‘ Now I get it. Your nephew's the young man who worked for King Midas Associates, right?' ‘ Yes sir, that's him.'
‘I’ m sorry, but why are you reporting the crime instead of your nephew, who's the owner? ’
'Mr Pellegrino has power of attorney,' Fazio cut in.
'I guess your nephew works too much and can't look after—'
‘ No,' said the man. ‘I’ll tell you what happened. About a month ago, on the same morning that son of a bitch Gargano was supposed to come back—'
'What, did he take your money too?'
‘ Yessir, he did, everything I owned. The morning before that, my nephew came out to Montereale to tell me Gargano'd called him and ordered him to go to Germany for some business. His plane was leaving from Palermo at four in the afternoon. My nephew told me he'd be away for at least a month and asked me to look after the construction. He should be back any day now.'
'So if I need to talk to him I won't find him in Vigata?'
'No sir.'
'Do you have an address or a phone number in Germany where I can reach your nephew?' 'Are you kidding?'
FIVE
Why was it that ever since Garzullo the land surveyor, rest his soul, came into the Vigata office of King Midas, revolver in hand, threatening to commit a massacre, the inspector couldn't make a move without running into someone or something connected in one way or another to ragioniere Gargano? As he was contemplating this string of coincidences of the sort that one finds both in second-rate detective novels and in the tritest everyday reality, Fazio came in.
'Awaiting your orders, Chief. But please explain one thing for me first. How did you know where Pellegrino's villa was? I never told you. Care to tell me, for curiosity's sake?' ‘ No.'
Fazio threw his hands up. The inspector had decided to play it safe. With Fazio, it was better to be cautious. The guy was a true cop.
'And I also know that they broke all the windows on the ground floor, smashed Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to dust, and wrote "arsehole" on all four walls,' the inspector added. 'Am I right?'
‘ You ’ re right. They used a sledgehammer and a can of green spray paint they found at the house.'
'Terrific So what do you make of that? Think I talk to spirits? Have a crystal ball? Have magical powers?' asked Montalbano, getting more and more enraged with each question.
'No, sir. But there's no need to get angry.'
‘ But of course I get angry! I drove by there this morning. I wanted to see how the olive tree was doing.'
‘ Was it doing well?' Fazio asked with a hint of irony. He knew about the tree as well as the rock on the jetty, the two places where his boss sometimes sought refuge.
It's not there anymore. They chopped it down to make room for the house.'
Fazio turned very serious, as though Montalbano had just informed him of the death of someone very dear to him.
‘I understand,' he said softly.
'You understand what?'
'Nothing. Got any orders to give me?'
'Yes. Now that we know that Giacomo Pellegrino is living it up in Germany, ‘I’ d like you to find me the address of this Miss or Mrs Michela Manganaro who worked for Gargano.'
‘I’ll have it for you in
The man dictated it to Fazio, who wrote it down. It wasn't the same. It seemed more like a number from the Montereale area.
'Are you from around here, Mr Pellegrino?'
‘ No, I've got a house near Montereale.'
'So why did you have a house built between Vigata and Montelusa?'
He'd just put his foot deep in his mouth, and he realized this at once. Fazio hadn't told him where the villa was located. And indeed the sergeant began staring at the inspector, his eyes narrowing to tiny little slits. But Pellegrino probably thought the two cops had already discussed things when Fazio was called out of the room; he did not seem surprised by the question.
It's not mine. It belongs to my nephew, one of my brother's boys. He's got the same name as me.'
'Ah!' said Montalbano, feigning astonishment. ‘ Now I get it. Your nephew's the young man who worked for King Midas Associates, right?' ‘ Yes sir, that's him.'
‘I’ m sorry, but why are you reporting the crime instead of your nephew, who's the owner? ’
'Mr Pellegrino has power of attorney,' Fazio cut in.
'I guess your nephew works too much and can't look after—'
‘ No,' said the man. ‘I’ll tell you what happened. About a month ago, on the same morning that son of a bitch Gargano was supposed to come back—'
'What, did he take your money too?'
‘ Yessir, he did, everything I owned. The morning before that, my nephew came out to Montereale to tell me Gargano'd called him and ordered him to go to Germany for some business. His plane was leaving from Palermo at four in the afternoon. My nephew told me he'd be away for at least a month and asked me to look after the construction. He should be back any day now.'
'So if I need to talk to him I won't find him in Vigata?'
'No sir.'
'Do you have an address or a phone number in Germany where I can reach your nephew?' 'Are you kidding?'
FIVE
Why was it that ever since Garzullo the land surveyor, rest his soul, came into the Vigata office of King Midas, revolver in hand, threatening to commit a massacre, the inspector couldn't make a move without running into someone or something connected in one way or another to ragioniere Gargano? As he was contemplating this string of coincidences of the sort that one finds both in second-rate detective novels and in the tritest everyday reality, Fazio came in.
'Awaiting your orders, Chief. But please explain one thing for me first. How did you know where Pellegrino's villa was? I never told you. Care to tell me, for curiosity's sake?' ‘ No.'
Fazio threw his hands up. The inspector had decided to play it safe. With Fazio, it was better to be cautious. The guy was a true cop.
'And I also know that they broke all the windows on the ground floor, smashed Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to dust, and wrote "arsehole" on all four walls,' the inspector added. 'Am I right?'
‘ You ’ re right. They used a sledgehammer and a can of green spray paint they found at the house.'
'Terrific So what do you make of that? Think I talk to spirits? Have a crystal ball? Have magical powers?' asked Montalbano, getting more and more enraged with each question.
'No, sir. But there's no need to get angry.'
‘ But of course I get angry! I drove by there this morning. I wanted to see how the olive tree was doing.'
‘ Was it doing well?' Fazio asked with a hint of irony. He knew about the tree as well as the rock on the jetty, the two places where his boss sometimes sought refuge.
It's not there anymore. They chopped it down to make room for the house.'
Fazio turned very serious, as though Montalbano had just informed him of the death of someone very dear to him.
‘I understand,' he said softly.
'You understand what?'
'Nothing. Got any orders to give me?'
'Yes. Now that we know that Giacomo Pellegrino is living it up in Germany, ‘I’ d like you to find me the address of this Miss or Mrs Michela Manganaro who worked for Gargano.'
‘I’ll have it for you in
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