Free The Brewer of Preston by Andrea Camilleri

as you can see, we can’t even get close.”

    â€œStop! Halt!” the engineer suddenly shouted at his men, and Nardo closed the valve. Hoffer had noticed that the buckets of water weren’t arriving fast enough. The amount of water shooting out the hose was far greater than that which was being put in, and thus the pressure gauge was rising perilously. The boiler was in danger of exploding.
    â€œ
Schnell!
Qvick! You must verk fester! Vater, vater! More vater!” the engineer kept shouting at the long human chain, and at last the buckets began to move more rapidly.
    At that moment the great window of the apartment inhabited by Gnà Nunzia suddenly opened and an elderly woman in a white nightgown appeared. The pale apparition raised her arms to the heavens.
    â€œ
Gesuzzu beddru! Madunnuzza santa!
He said there would be fire, and fire it is!”
    â€œMamà! Mamà!” Turiddru called to her.
    The old woman made no sign of having heard him. She vanished into the house.
    â€œ
Schnell!
Qvick!” an excited Hoffer cried loudly. “Ve must safe dis olt voman!”
    He noticed that the water-level gauge was now where it was supposed to be. Perhaps it would have been best to wait just a little longer, but there was no time to lose. The joy he felt at that moment at being able to save a human life with his invention made him commit a fatal mistake. Indeed, for a brief moment Hoffer forgot he was in Vigàta, Sicily, and lost control of the mechanism in his brain that was constantly translating his thoughts from German into Italian.
    â€œ
Schnell! Kaltes Wasser!
” he cried.
    Nardo Sciascia, who was about to reopen the cold-water valve, stopped in midmotion and gave him a puzzled look.
    â€œ
Kaltes Wasser! Kalt! Kalt!
” roared the engineer.
    Now, since the Italian word for “hot” is
caldo
, an inevitable misunderstanding occured.
    â€œHe wants the hot water! Pressure!” Sciascia cried to Cecè Consolo, who was at the back of the machine. Cecè turned the pressure knob and jumped backwards. At once a violent jet of steam and boiling water gushed from the back of the boiler. The nearly statue-like group of the Pizzutos, who were still standing behind the machine, was blotted out by a white cloud from which some very loud Greek-chorus-like laments resounded.
    â€œMistake! Mistake! I vant colt vater! Colt!” Hoffer screamed.
    When the white cloud dissipated, the Pizzutos were on the ground moaning and rolling around with burns of varying degrees. Puglisi came running with two of his men.
    â€œQuick!” the policeman said to the men. “Go get some help, put them in a carriage, and take them to Dr. Gammacurta’s.”
    â€œDr. Gammacurta is nowhere to be found,” said one of them.
    â€œThen take them to Dr. Addamo.”
    â€œAddamo is up to his neck with all the ladies in hysterics over the pandemonium that broke out at the theatre, not to mention all the people who got hurt when Don Memè started shooting.”
    â€œDon’t give me any crap! I don’t want to hear about it! Just take these people to Addamo. He’ll understand right away that they’re seriously injured.”
    Meanwhile Gnà Nunzia had reappeared at the great window. In her hand she held a sheet of paper that she began to shred into many little pieces, which she then tossed as far as she could with the help of the wind.
    â€œI pray to you, O bulls of the holy sites!” she jabbered in dialect. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, drive the fire away!”
    â€œVat’s de olt lady doingk?” Hoffer asked in amazement.
    â€œNothing. Those are the papal bulls of the holy places that the friars of Terrasanta sell for money. They’re supposed to keep away fire and water.”
    The engineer gave up seeking further explanation.
    â€œMamà!” cried Turiddru.
    Again the old woman appeared neither to see nor hear him.
    â€œPatre Virga