Read Online IM10 August Heat (2008) by Andrea Camilleri - Free Book Online Page B

remember, either.”
    Montalbano thought they ought to build a great big monument, like the Vittoriano in Rome for the Unknown Soldier, to commemorate all the illegal immigrants who have died on the job for a crust of bread.
    “Well, but, you know, that business about the protective railing . . .”
    A second shot in the dark.
    “Oh, there was a protective railing, Inspector, I swear to God there was! Your colleague saw it with his own two eyes. The truth of the matter is that that Arab was totally drunk, climbed over the railing, and fell.”
    “Are you aware of the autopsy results?”
    “Me? No.”
    “No trace of alcohol was found in the blood.”
    Another whopper. Montalbano was firing blindly away.
    “But on his clothing there sure was!” said Fazio, with the usual laugh.
    He, too, was shooting blindly, come what may.
    Spitaleri said nothing. He didn’t even feign surprise.
    “Who were you talking to just now?” the inspector asked, going back to square one.
    “With the yard foreman.”
    “And what did you say to him? You don’t have to answer, of course, but it’s in your own best interests . . .”
    “First I told him that I was sure you had summoned me here to ask me about this business of the Arab, and then—”
    “That’s enough, Signor Spitaleri, say no more,” said the inspector in a magnanimous tone. “I am required to respect your privacy, you know.And I do so not out of formal observance of the law, but out of a deep sense of respect for others, which is something I was born with. If Rome tells me anything, I’ll call you back here for questioning.”
    Behind the developer’s back, Fazio mimed the gesture of clapping his hands, applauding Montalbano’s performance.
    “So I can go?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “Well, you see, I didn’t summon you here concerning the investigation into your employee’s death, but for something else entirely. Do you remember if it was you who designed and built a house in the Pizzo district at Marina di Montereale?”
    “For Angelo Speciale? Yes.”
    “It is my duty to inform you that a crime was committed. We discovered some illegal construction, an entire underground level.”
    Spitaleri could not repress a sigh of relief.Then he started laughing. Had he expected a more serious charge?
    “So, you found it! Well, you’re wasting your time. That’s pure chickenshit, if you’ll excuse my language! Look, Inspector, around here you’re practically required to engage in illegal construction just to avoid looking like an idiot in other people’s eyes! Everybody does it! All that needs to be done is for Speciale to request amnesty, and—”
    “That doesn’t change the fact that you, as builder and works superintendent, didn’t abide by the terms of the building permit.”
    “But, Inspector, I repeat, that’s all bullshit!”
    “It’s a crime.”
    “A crime, you say? I would call it a minor mistake, the kind that used to get marked in red pencil. Believe me, you would do better not to report me.”
    “Are you threatening me, by any chance?”
    “I would never do that in the presence of a witness. It’s just that, if you report me, you’ll be the laughingstock of the whole town.You’ll look like a fool.”
    He was getting bold, the motherfucking crook. Over that business about the phone call, he was practically shitting his pants, whereas illegal construction only made him laugh.
    So Montalbano decided to shoot him straight in the face.
    “Maybe you’re right. Unfortunately, however, I still have to look into that illegal apartment.”
    “But, why, can you tell me?”
    “Because we found a dead body inside.”
    “A dead . . . body?”
    “Yes, of a fifteen-year-old girl. A minor. Little more than a child.With her throat slashed. A horror.”
    He purposely stressed the words referring to the victim’s tender age.
    And, in fact, Spitaleri suddenly extended his arms, as if trying to fend off a force that was pushing him backwards, then