Sicily in the grip of corrupt politicians, multi-service military/police and the ever present mafia is home to Inspector Salvo Montalbano
Who is in charge here?
Two politicians had decided to send a number of detachments to Sicily for the purpose of ‘controlling the territory’, to lighten the load of the carabinieri, local police, intelligence services, special operations teams, coastguard, the highway police, railway police and port police, the anti-Mafia, anti-terrorism, anti-drug, anti-theft and anti-kidnapping commissions, and others.
Garbage men wish they hadn't found a dead man
Pino, who had chosen to work the stretch of the Pasture nearest the beach, at one point spotted the nose of a car about twenty yards away, sticking out of some bushes a bit denser than the rest. Unsure, he stopped; it wasn’t possible someone could still be around here at this hour, seven in the morning, screwing a whore. He began to approach cautiously, one step at a time, almost bent over, and when he’d reached the taillights he quickly stood straight up. Nothing happened, nobody shouted to fuck off, the car seemed vacant. Coming nearer, he finally made out the indistinct shape of a man, motionless, in the passenger seat, head thrown back. He seemed to be in a deep sleep. But by the look and the smell of it, Pino realized something was fishy. He turned around and called to Saro, who came running, out of breath, eyes bulging. ‘What is it? What the hell do you want?’ Pino thought his friend’s questions a bit aggressive but blamed it on the fact that he had run all that way. ‘Get a load of this,’ he said.
Plucking up his courage, Pino went up to the driver’s side and tried to open the door but couldn’t: it was locked. With the help of Saro, who seemed to have calmed down, he tried to reach the other door, against which the man’s body was partially leaning, but the car, a large green BMW, was too close to the shrub to allow anyone to approach from that side. Leaning forward, however, and getting scratched by the brambles, they managed to get a better look at the man’s face. He was not sleeping; his eyes were wide open and motionless. The moment they realized that the man was dead, Pino and Saro froze in terror – not at the sight of death but because they recognized him.
To whom should they report the death?
Pino got the number from the operator. Though it was still only seven forty-five, Rizzo answered after the first ring.
‘Mr Rizzo?’
‘Yes?’
‘Excuse me for bothering you at this hour, Mr Rizzo, but . . . we found Mr Luparello, you see, and . . . well, he looks dead.’
There was a pause. Then Rizzo spoke.
‘So why are you telling me this?’
Pino was stunned. He was ready for anything, except that bizarre response.
‘But . . . aren’t you his best friend? We thought it was only right—’
‘I appreciate it. But you must do your duty first. Good day.’
Saro had been listening to the conversation, his cheek pressed against Pino’s. They looked at each other, nonplussed. Rizzo acted as if they’d told him they’d just found some nameless cadaver.
‘Shit! He was his friend, wasn’t he?’ Saro burst out.
‘What do we know? Maybe they had a fight,’ said Pino to reassure him.
‘So what do we do now?’
‘We go and do our duty, like the lawyer said,’ concluded Pino.
They headed toward town, to police headquarters. The thought of going to the carabinieri didn’t even cross their minds, since they were under the command of a Milanese lieutenant. The Vigàta police inspector, on the other hand, was from Catania, a certain Salvo Montalbano, who, when he wanted to get to the bottom of something, he did.
Questioning the Coroner
‘Can you tell me at what time he died?’
‘You’re going to drive me crazy with questions like that. You must be watching too many American movies, you know, where as soon as the cop asks what time the crime took place, the coroner tells him the murderer finished his work at six-thirty-two p.m., give or take a few seconds, thirty-six days ago.’
An intricate puzzle of a murder. Inspector Salvo Montalbano knows much more than he tells his superiors. False facts have nearly everyone looking in other directions, innocent people are framed and other deaths confuse the case. But Salvo weaves his way through them all to reach a satisfying conclusion. And all set on the crumbling, decadent island of Sicily.
Enjoy!