Read Online The Potter's Field by Andrea Camilleri - Free Book Online Page B

of—”
    â€œRoasted.”
    â€œWill that be all, Inspector?”
    â€œNo. Have you got purpiteddro a strascinasali ?”
    â€œBut, Inspector, that’s an antipasto.”
    â€œAnd if I eat it as a post-pasto, what’ll happen? Will you start crying?”
    He left the trattoria feeling rather aggravated , as the ancient Romans used to say.
    The customary stroll to the lighthouse repaired only some of the damage.

    The pleasure of his feast immediately vanished when he entered the station. Upon seeing him, Catarella bent over as if to search for something on the floor and greeted him from that position, without looking at him. A rather ridiculous, infantile move. Why didn’t he want to show his face? The inspector pretended not to notice, went into his office, and called him on the phone.
    â€œCatarella, could you come into my office for a moment?”
    As soon as he entered the room, Montalbano looked at him and realized his eyes were red and moist.
    â€œDo you have a fever?” he asked him.
    â€œNo, Chief.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong? Were you crying?”
    â€œA li’l bit, Chief.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIss nuthin’, Chief. I’s jess cryin’.”
    And he blushed from the lie he’d just told.
    â€œIs Inspector Augello here?”
    â€œYessir, Chief. Fazio’s ’ere too.”
    â€œGet me Fazio.”
    So now even Catarella was hiding things from him? And suddenly nobody was his friend anymore? Why was everyone giving him the runaround? Had he perhaps become the old, tired lion who gets kicked around even by donkeys? This latter hypothesis, which seemed the most likely, made his hands tingle with rage.
    â€œFazio, come in, shut the door, and sit down.”
    â€œChief, I’ve got two things to tell you.”
    â€œNo, wait. First I want to know why Catarella was crying when I came in just now.”
    â€œDid you ask him?”
    â€œYes, but he didn’t want to tell me.”
    â€œSo why are you asking me?”
    So Fazio, too, was kicking him around now? A rage so furious came over him that the room started spinning about like a merry-go-round. Instead of crying out, he roared. A kind of low, deep roar. And, with a leap he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of making anymore, in a flash he found himself standing upright on top of the desk, from where he then flew like a bullet at Fazio—who, eyes bulging in terror, tried to stand up, got tangled in his chair, which fell, and so failed to get out of the way in time. Thus bearing the full brunt of Montalbano’s body, he crashed to the floor with the inspector on top of him. They lay there for a moment with their arms around each other. If someone walked in he might even think they were doing lewd things. Fazio didn’t move until Montalbano got up with some effort and, ashamed, went over to the window and looked outside. He was breathing heavily.
    Without a word, Fazio set the chair back upright and sat down in it.
    A moment later, Montalbano turned around, went up to Fazio, put his hand on his shoulder, and said:
    â€œI apologize.”
    Fazio then did something he would never have dared to do in ordinary circumstances. He lay his hand, palm down, on top of the inspector’s hand and said:
    â€œI’m the one who should apologize, Chief. I provoked you.”
    Montalbano went and sat back down behind his desk. They looked each other long in the eye. Then Fazio spoke.
    â€œChief, for a while now, it’s been unlivable around here.”
    â€œYou mean Augello?”
    â€œYeah, Chief. I see you’ve caught on. He’s completely changed. He used to be a cheerful, happy-go-lucky guy, whereas now he’s always gloomy, he takes offense at the smallest things, he criticizes everything and insults everyone. Vaccarella wanted to go to the union for help, but I managed to talk him out of it. But things can’t go on like this much