Read Online The Terra-Cotta Dog by Andrea Camilleri - Free Book Online Page B

sorrowfully.
    â€œImagine that, Mr. Ingrassia. I’d asked him if he could give me some more details about what he’d seen the night of the robbery, we’d agreed to meet again, and now this . . .”
    Ingrassia threw his hands up in the air, inviting Montalbano, with this gesture, to resign himself to fate. He allowed a respectful pause to elapse, then:
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said, “but what other details could the poor cavaliere have given you? He’d already told you everything he saw.”
    Montalbano wagged his forefinger, signaling “no.”
    â€œYou don’t think he told you everything he saw?” asked Ingrassia, intrigued.
    Montalbano wagged his finger again.
    Stew in your own juices, scumbag , he was thinking.
    The green Ingrassia started to tremble like a leafy branch in the breeze.
    â€œWell, then, what did you want him to tell you?”
    â€œWhat he thought he didn’t see.”
    The breeze turned into a gale, the branch began to lurch.
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œLet me explain. You’re familiar, are you not, with a painting by Pieter Brueghel called Children’s Games ?”
    â€œWho? Me? No,” said Ingrassia, worried.
    â€œDoesn’t matter. But you must be familiar with the works of Hieronymus Bosch?”
    â€œNo sir,” said Ingrassia, starting to sweat. Now he was really getting scared, his face starting to match the color of his outfit, green.
    â€œNever mind, then, don’t worry about it,” Montalbano said magnanimously. “What I meant was that when someone sees a scene, he usually remembers the first general impression he has of it. Right?”
    â€œRight,” said Ingrassia, prepared for the worst.
    â€œThen, little by little, a few other details may start coming back to him, things that registered in his memory but were discarded as unimportant. An open or closed window, for example, or a noise, a whistle, a song—what else?—a chair out of place, a car where it’s not supposed to be, a light . . . That sort of thing. You know, little details that can later turn out to be extremely important.”
    Ingrassia took a white handkerchief with a green border out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face.
    â€œYou had me brought here just to tell me that?”
    â€œNo. That would be inconveniencing you for no reason. I would never do a thing like that. I was wondering if you’d heard from the people who, in your opinion, played that joke on you, you know, the phony robbery.”
    â€œNot a word from anyone.”
    â€œThat’s odd.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause the best part of any practical joke is enjoying it afterward with the person it was played on. Well, if you do hear from anybody, please let me know. Good day.”
    â€œGood day,” muttered Ingrassia, standing up. He was dripping wet, his trousers sticking to his bottom.
    Fazio showed up all decked out in a shiny new uniform.
    â€œI’m here,” he said.
    â€œAnd the pope is in Rome.”
    â€œI know, Inspector, I know: today is not your day.”
    He started to leave but stopped in the doorway.
    â€œInspector Augello called, said he had a terrible toothache. He says he’s not coming unless he has to.”
    â€œListen, do you have any idea where the wreck of Cavaliere Misuraca’s Fiat ended up?”
    â€œIt’s still here, in our garage. If you ask me, it’s just envy.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œInspector Augello’s toothache. It’s just a bout of envy.”
    â€œWho’s he envious of?”
    â€œYou. Because it’s your press conference and not his. And he’s probably also pissed off because you wouldn’t tell him who you’d arrested.”
    â€œWould you do me a favor?”
    â€œAll right, all right, I’m going.”
    When Fazio had closed the door well, Montalbano dialed a number.