Read Online The Brewer of Preston by Andrea Camilleri - Free Book Online Page A

stevedore who worked at the port, had gone to bed at nightfall, after the Angelus bell, as he had done for years, aching all over from the toil of loading more than two hundred full sacks a day onto his shoulders and carrying them from wharf to boat. He had slept barely six hours when he was awakened by a loud knocking on the door of the hovel where he lived with his entire family, a single room some twelve by twelve feet on the ground floor with one small window, beside the door, as the sole source of air.
    â€œTuriddru Macca!”
    He sat up in bed, scared, and set his hand down on the mattress, but only ended up crushing the face of his son Pasqualino, who moaned in his sleep. The knocking grew louder.
    â€œTuriddru Macca!”
    Turiddru stretched his legs in order to get up and in so doing kicked his daughter Annetta, who fell out of bed but, being accustomed to falling, climbed back in without even opening her eyes. The knocking continued, leaving Turiddru no time to collect himself. He slid out of bed, stepping directly on the liver of his son Minicuzzo, who was sleeping on the floor. Staggering blindly towards the window, he stumbled and very nearly fell on his son Antonino, who was asleep on a straw pallet.
    â€œTuriddru Macca!”
    His wife, Carolina, opened one eye and sat up, careful not to suffocate her six-month-old daughter Biniditta, who had fallen asleep still attached to one of her tits.
    â€œWhoozat?
Madonna santa
, who could it be at this hour?”
    â€œI dunno. Shut up and sleep,” Turiddru ordered her, feeling nervous.
    When he opened the window, a blast of frigid air assailed him. The night had taken a turn for the worse.
    â€œWhoozat?”
    â€œIss me, Turi, Gegè Bufalino.”
    â€œWhat the hell do you want at this hour? What’s going on?”
    â€œWha’ss going on is your mother’s house is on fire. Hurry up and get dressed.”
    Gegè Bufalino was someone who was never to be trusted, whether his belly was full of wine or he hadn’t drunk a drop.
    â€œGegè, I’m warning you: if it turns out you’re making this thing up, I’m gonna bust your ass.”
    â€œI swear it on my own eyeballs! Lemme die by murder if I’s lyin’,” Gegè vowed. “Iss the holy Gospel truth.”
    Turiddru got dressed in a hurry. The night was pitch-black, but every now and then a flash dispersed the darkness. Towards the center of town, around the new theatre, and right behind it, where his mother Gnà Nunzia’s house was, a great big red glow lit up the sky. Fire, no doubt about it. Turiddru started running.

    Once past the cordon of mounted soldiers arrayed in a circle around the area on fire, Herr Hoffer decided, at a glance, that there was nothing more to be done for the new theatre. Fire had already eaten up half of it. He ran behind the building: a small alley not three yards wide was all that separated the theatre from a two-story house that itself was ablaze.
    â€œ
Uber hier!
Dis way!” Hoffer cried to his men, who arrived in a flash with the fire-extinguishing machine.
    A man approached holding a wet handkerchief over his nose to protect himself from the smoke.
    â€œI’m Lieutenant Puglisi, police. Who are you, and what are you trying to do?”
    â€œMein name ist Hoffer, I been ein engineer. Minink engineer. I haff a machine I infented to outputten fires hier. Will you helf me?”
    â€œYes, of course,” said the lieutenant, who’d given up hope when he’d seen the damage. He was quick to accept anything, even chickenshit, that might be of use.
    â€œGoot. You must ko und make a chain of men vit buckets von hier to the sea. They take the sea vater and put it in the machine. The machine alvays neets new vater.”
    â€œAll right,” said Puglisi, who ran off to organize the effort.
    As his men stoked the wood fire under the boiler to create the pressure necessary to force the cold