Free Judge Surra by Andrea Camilleri, Joseph Farrell Page A

entrance.
    Before leaving him, the clerk handed him a card from the prefect. It informed him that in the stables on the far side of the street, opposite the entrance to the house, a carriage, a mule and coachman by the name of Attanasio, a trustworthy person, had been put at his disposal.
    The judge changed his clothes and crossed to the stables.
    â€œAt your service. I am Attanasio. Do you require the carriage?” Asking the questions was a curly-haired man of some forty years of age with intelligent eyes, dressed in livery.
    â€œNo, I’d rather go on foot. But would you mind doing me two favours?”
    â€œYou have only to ask, your Excellency.”
    â€œI require the services of a woman to clean the apartment and keep it tidy. And to prepare my meals, because I don’t like eating out.”
    â€œExcellency, I will tell my wife, Pippina.”
    â€œIf she could come tomorrow morning at seven-thirty …”
    â€œVery well.”
    â€œAnd then I would like to purchase a pointer dog, but you would need to look after it for me somewhere else.”
    â€œI will have three or four dogs brought along no later than tomorrow, and you can make your choice. And I will be happy to look after it.”
    The judge thanked him and was about to go when Attanasio gave himself a slap on the forehead.
    â€œAh, Excellency, I forgot. Earlier today, a servant from the Bontadini Palace gave me this, and said to tell you he found it under the main door.”
    He pulled out a letter and handed it to him.
    Surra looked at him in amazement. How could this be? They knew his address even before he had arrived.
    The letter had been delivered by hand. The address was printed and read: To His Excellency Efisio Surra, Palazzo Bontadini, The City.
    The judge was certain the letter would be anonymous. Indeed it was.
    Excellency, what happened to the papers relating to the hearings in the cases of Milioto, Savastano, Curreli and Costantino? Why not discuss it with Don Emanuele Lonero, known as Don Nené?
    A friend of Justice
.
    He slipped it into his pocket and went off to meet the prefect.
    Who did not have good news for him.
    Of all the court’s staff, only the head clerk, three assistant clerks, two ushers, four court officers, two presiding judges and four judges were prepared to cooperate with the new government.
    In principle, the court was capable of being reactivated, but in practice it was not at all easy to see how this would work. The prefect assigned to the court a corps of one maresciallo and four carabinieri. It was the best he could do. Judge Surra asked for the address of the previous president of the court, Fallarino, and then told maresciallo Solano, who had in the meantime been introduced to him, to instruct those who were willing to work with him to present themselves at the court the following morning at nine o’clock.
    Since the invitation from the prefect was for dinner, he was left with some time on his hands. He wrote to the ex-president of the court, Saverio Fallarino, requesting the pleasure of a meeting, and told one of the carabinieri to deliver it.
    The reply was brought by the same man: President Fallarino would meet him at his house at five o’clock the following day.
    *
    When the judge left the prefecture, it was after nine o’clock.
    It was such a lovely night that he felt inclined to go for a stroll along the
corso
. He was surprised to find so many people about, weaving in and out in a continual ballet of deft moves, bows, smiles and compliments.
    The thing which most powerfully attracted his attention was the window of a big caffè with its display of multi-coloured cakes. The judge had one vice, a badly kept secret: anoverwhelming fondness for sweet things. It had been the cause of many quarrels with his wife, who feared for his health. He saw before him a pile of strange sweets – brownish tubes of crisp pastry of about twenty centimetres in length, filled