Free The Potter's Field by Andrea Camilleri Page A

that synthesis.”
    â€œAll right, you win. And what was the other thing?”
    â€œDo you remember when I was telling you what I’d found out about Dolores Alfano, I said there was something somebody had told me but I couldn’t remember what it was?”
    â€œYes. Do you remember now?”
    â€œOne of the people I talked to was an old, retired shopkeeper who told me that Giovanni Alfano, Dolores’s husband, was Filippo Alfano’s son.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œWhen he told me, I didn’t attach any importance to it. It’s something that goes back to before you started working here. This Filippo Alfano was a big cheese in the Sinagra family. He was also a distant relative.”
    â€œWhoa!”
    The Sinagras were one of the two historic Mafia families of Vigàta. The other was the Cuffaro family.
    â€œAt a certain point this Filippo Alfano disappeared. He resurfaced in Colombia with his wife and son, Giovanni, who at the time wasn’t yet fifteen years old. Of course, Filippo Alfano didn’t leave the country legally. He didn’t have a passport, and he had three serious convictions. Around town they said the Sinagras had sent him abroad to look after their interests in Bogotá. But after he’d been there awhile, Filippo Alfano was shot and killed; nobody ever found out by whom. And there you have it.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘and there you have it’?”
    â€œI mean that’s the end of the story, Chief. Giovanni Alfano, Dolores’s husband, works as a ship’s officer and has a clean record, absolutely spotless. Why, do the sons of mafiosi always have to become mafiosi like their fathers?”
    â€œNo. So, if Giovanni Alfano is clean, then the attempt to run over his wife can’t have been an indirect vendetta or a warning. It must have been a nasty prank or drunken antic. Do you agree?”
    â€œI agree.”

    The inspector was thinking of going home to change clothes for his meeting with Ingrid when he heard Galluzzo’s voice asking permission to enter.
    â€œCome in, come in.”
    Galluzzo entered and shut the door behind him. He had an envelope in his hand.
    â€œWhat is it?” Montalbano asked.
    â€œInspector Augello told me to give you this.”
    He set the envelope down on the desk. It wasn’t sealed. On the outside, in block letters typed by the computer printer, it said: “FOR CHIEF INSPECTOR SALVO MONTALBANO.” And below: “PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL.” And on the upper left: “FROM DOMENICO AUGELLO.”
    Montalbano didn’t take the letter out. He looked at Galluzzo and asked:
    â€œIs Inspector Augello still in his office?”
    â€œNo, Chief, he left about half an hour ago.”
    â€œWhy did you take half an hour to bring me this letter?”
    Galluzzo was visibly embarrassed.
    â€œWell, I . . .” he began to say.
    â€œDid he tell you to wait half an hour before bringing it to me?”
    â€œNo, Chief, it took me that long to understand what he had written by hand on the sheet of paper he told me to type up and bring to you. A lot of stuff was crossed out and some of the words were hard to decipher. When I finished, I went back to his office to ask him to sign it, but he’d already left. So I decided to bring it to you anyway, without his signature.”
    He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a sheet of paper, and laid it down beside the envelope.
    â€œThis is the original.”
    â€œOkay. You can go.”

6
    The letter said:
    Dear Salvo,
    As I’ve already brought directly to your attention, the situation that has developed between us needs to be fully clarified, without any holding back or beating around the bush. I believe that, after so many years of working together—where I, however, have always played a subordinate role—the time has come for me to have my own space and autonomy. I am convinced that the investigation