Free The Scent of the Night by Andrea Camilleri Page A

you're asposta give 'im.'
    The Italian mail permitting, the c'mishner would receive the pseudo-anonymous letter the next day. That would calm him down.
    'Any other news? ’
    ‘ Nuthin' at all, Chief.'
    "Where's everybody else? ’
    ‘F azio went over to Via Lincoln for a brawl, Gallo's at the Sciacchitano store 'cause there was a little hold-up there—'
    ‘ What do you mean, "little"?'
    ‘I mean the holder-upper's a little boy, thirteen years old, with a gun as big as my arm. An' Galluzzo's at the place where they found a bomb this morning that never bombed, and Imbro and Gramaglia went to-—'
    'OK, OK,' said Montalbano. 'You were right, Cat All quiet on the western front'
    And as he went into his office, Catarella scratched his head.
    It's not too quiet in the Westerns I seen, Chief!' On the inspector's desk, Fazio had left a four-foot stack of papers to be signed, with a little note on top saying: 'Extremely urgent.' Montalbano cursed the saints, knowing there was no getting around it.
     
    When he was seated at his usual table in the Trattoria San Calogero, the owner, Calogero, came up to him with a conspiratorial air.
    ‘ We got nunn atu today, Inspector.'
    'But isn't it illegal to fish for them?'
    'Yes it is, but every now and then we're allowed to catch one crate per boat'
    'So why do you mention it as if it's some kind of secret plot? ’
    ' 'Cause everybody wants 'em and I haven't got enough.'
    'How are you going to cook them? With lemon? ’
    ‘ No, Inspector. The babies meet their maker in the frying pan, rolled into dumplings.'
    Montalbano had to wait a bit, but it was worth it. The flat, crispy dumplings were studded with hundreds of little black dots, the tiny eyes of the newborn fishlets. The inspector ate them as if participating in a sacred rite, knowing all the while he was ingesting something along the lines of a massacre. To punish himself, he decided not to eat anything else. Once outside the trattoria, as sometimes happened, the irksome voice of his conscience made itself heard.
    To punish yourself, you say? What a hypocrite you are, Montalbano! Wasn't it rather because you were afraid you might get indigestion? Do you know how many dumplings you put away? Eighteen!
    For one reason or another he went to the port and walked all the way out to the lighthouse, relishing the air of the sea.
     
    'Fazio, in your opinion, how many ways are there to get to Sicily from the mainland?'
    Three, Chief. By car, by train, or by boat. Or on foot, if you want'
    'Fazio, I don't like you when you try to be clever.'
    ‘I wasn't trying to be clever. During the last war my dad came all the way from Bolzano to Palermo on foot'
    'Have we got Gargano's licence-plate number somewhere? ’
    Fazio looked at him in surprise.
    Wasn't Augello handling this case?'
    Well, now I'm handling it Got a problem with that?'
    Why should I have a problem with it? I'm gonna go look through Inspector Augello's papers. Actually, I think I'll give him a ring. If he finds out I've been sticking my nose in his stuff, the guy's liable to shoot me. Did you sign those papers there? Yes? Then I’ll take them off your hands and bring you some more;'
    If you bring me any more papers to sign, I'll make you eat them one by one ’
    Arms full of files, Fazio stopped in the doorway and turned around.
    If I may say so, Inspector, you re wasting your time on Gargano. You want to know what I think?'
    ‘ No, but if you really must, go ahead'
    ‘ Jesus, have you got a chip on your shoulder today! What'd you do, have some food go down the wrong way?'
    And he went out, indignant, without revealing what he thought about the Gargano case. Barely live minutes had passed when the door flew open and slammed against the wall, a small piece of plaster falling to the ground. Catarella appeared, face invisible, hidden by a stack of documents over three feet high in his arms.
    ‘ Beg your pardon, Chief, had to push the door open with my foot 'cause my arms are