Free Game of Mirrors by Andrea Camilleri Page A

phone ring. It was Fazio.
    “Sorry to bother you, Chief, but I wanted to let you know that another bomb went off this morning.”
    He cursed the saints. Were these people acquiring a taste for it?
    “In front of a shop or apartment building?”
    “No, in front of a warehouse.”
    “Anyone hurt?”
    “A passerby was injured. He was taken to Montelusa Hospital.”
    “Anything serious?”
    “Nah.”
    “Is Augello with you?”
    “Yessir.”
    “Then there’s no point in me coming. I’ll see you later at the station.”
         
    Liliana was waiting at the gate. Fresh, well rested, and scented, beaming a big smile brighter than the sun. She wasn’t in slacks and blouse, but wearing one of her little home-wrecking dresses.
    “Ciao.”
    As soon as she got in the car, she turned towards Montalbano and kissed him on the cheek.
    “Sleep well?” she asked.
    “Not too badly; how about you?”
    “I slept great. Like a log, despite the arancini.”
    One could see that it did her good. At least this time she didn’t mention babies.
    “Shall I leave you at the bus stop?”
    “Yes, but first, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go for a minute to the Caffè Castiglione. I want to buy some cannoli for a salesgirl. It’s her birthday today.”
    When they got there, she said:
    “You come in, too. I’ll treat you to a coffee.”
    One should never refuse a coffee. The café was packed with people eating breakfast, a few of whom greeted the inspector. Liliana ordered ten cannoli at the bar and, as they were drinking their coffee, came so close to him that her hip grazed his.
    Then she went over to the cash register to pay while the inspector stayed behind, talking to someone he knew.
    “Salvo, do you have two euros by any chance?” Liliana called out loudly to him.
    Montalbano said good-bye to his acquaintance, went over to the cash register, gave Liliana two euros, and they got back in the car.
    After he’d dropped her off at the bus stop and was heading for the office, all Montalbano could do was smile.
    How skillful Liliana had been in showing everyone in the café that she and the inspector were close friends! And perhaps even more than friends.
    He would have bet the family jewels that her pursewas full of coins, and she’d done what she did just so she could call him by name in front of everyone.
    Little by little, the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place.
         
    “Ahh Chief Chief! Ahh Chief!”
    This was the special litany that Catarella intoned whenever there’d been a call from Mr. C’mishner.
    “Did the commissioner call?”
    “Yessir, ’e did, not ten minutes ago. ’E wannit a talk t’yiz or Isspector Augello, an’ seein’ as how ya wasn’t onna premisses yet, I put the call true to Isspector Augello, ’oo was hisself onna premisses, afore ’e left immidiotly after talkin’ to him, him bein’ him, meanin’ the same one, hizzoner the c’mishner.”
    Entering his office, the inspector found Fazio already there.
    “Do you know what the commissioner wanted?”
    “No.”
    “So, tell me about this bomb.”
    “Well, Chief, it was exactly the same as the one in Via Pisacane. Stuck inside a cardboard box, which they put in front of the metal shutter of a warehouse in Via Palermo.”
    “What kind of warehouse?”
    “That’s just it. It was another empty warehouse.”
    “Really?!”
    “It’s been unlet for three months.”
    “Who does it belong to?”
    “It used to belong to a retiree by the name of Agostino Cicarello, a postal employee. He died last month. I talked to his wife. It was his only possession.”
    “So we have to rule out the protection racket?”
    “Of course. And I would add that there’s really no chance of a mistake in this case, because the warehouse is isolated. There are no other houses or apartment blocks nearby.”
    “But what are they trying to prove?”
    “No idea,” said Fazio, standing up.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To Montelusa to