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Cuffaros.
You did make things easy for the burglar, however. And he mustn’t be just any burglar – burglars know that you don’t just go and rob the Cuffaros. It must be someone who can
easily get his hands on the other keys, of which the board of directors owns the second set, take them for about an hour, use them, and then put them back without anyone noticing. Someone in the
family, in other words, who urgently needed some of the company’s money and therefore took it. A traitor. Who will meet the same end as other traitors to the family.’
    Head hanging against his chest, Borsellino was now having trouble holding back the tears.
    ‘Best of luck,’ said Montalbano, leaving the office.
    *
    ‘My heartfelt compliments, maestro. That was a textbook interrogation,’ said Augello as soon as they were outside. ‘But would you explain to me why you
didn’t keep going? The man was completely fried.’
    ‘First of all, because I felt sorry for him. Secondly, because he was never going to name the person who made him do what he did, not even if we tortured him.’
    They were joined by Fazio.
    ‘Did he confess?’
    ‘No, but he was just about to.’
    ‘I wonder how they forced him,’ said Augello.
    ‘Probably blackmail. Fazio, see if you can find out more about this Borsellino.’
    ‘Still,’ said Mimì, ‘there’s something in all this that doesn’t make sense to me.’
    ‘And what’s that?’
    ‘Why bother to use duplicate keys? They’d already gone so far as to put the fake sign on the night-deposit box and force open the drawer, they might as well have gone all the way and
broken the outside locks. Whereas they did it the way they did so that we would immediately think of the extra set of keys in the hands of the board of directors and the complicity of the manager.
But it was a huge mistake!’
    Montalbano glared at him.
    ‘You think it was a mistake?’
    Augello bristled.
    ‘Do you have a better idea?’
    ‘Well, half an idea, to be exact.’
    ‘And what would that be?’
    ‘That the fact there was no break-in caught the manager by surprise, too. He hadn’t expected that. The agreement made with the burglar must certainly have stipulated that one of the
supermarket’s outside locks would be broken. That’s why he was so scared.’
    ‘But what does it mean?’
    ‘I don’t know yet. Listen, I’m going to get something to eat. I’ll see you two later this afternoon.’
    *
    ‘Why so late?’ asked Enzo, the restaurateur, upon seeing the inspector come in.
    Montalbano felt his heart give a tug.
    ‘Why, is there nothing left? Did your customers eat everything?’
    ‘Not to worry, Inspector. For you there’s always something to eat.’
    Seafood antipasto (double portion), pasta with sea urchin sauce (a portion and a half), and red mullet cooked in salt (six rather large fish).
    He asked for the bill. He’d allowed himself a special birthday feast. And, indeed, as he was getting up from the table, he saw Enzo approaching with a tiny little cake, enough for one.
    ‘With my very best wishes, Inspector.’
    He realized he couldn’t very well shun Enzo’s offering. He had to eat that cake, even if it risked ruining the wonderful taste of mullet in his mouth.
    His mood, moreover, had already been ruined by the two candles on the cake, one shaped like a 5, the other like an 8, forming the number 58.
    Apparently Enzo counted the same way as Livia.
    The walk along the jetty thus became necessary not only for digestive reasons but also to shake off the irritation that the number on the cake had caused him.
    *
    As soon as he sat back down at his desk, Gallo came in.
    ‘Chief, I have something to tell you about Giovanni Strangio.’
    ‘Tell me.’
    ‘You ordered me to take him to Montelusa prison, but as soon as I got there and introduced myself, they told me I had to take him to the prosecutor’s office.’
    ‘Which prosecutor?’
    ‘Dr Seminara.’
    Montalbano screwed up his face. It