A Voice in the Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

remembered having read, in a book by a scientist named Alleva who worked with animals, that octopuses are extremely intelligent. He sat there a moment with his fork in midair. He
reflected that it was always the fate of the intelligent to be eaten in every way possible by the more cunning cretins. He had no problem acknowledging the fact that he was a cretin himself, and
resumed eating.
    In any case, hard as it was to digest, the octopus would have its revenge in turn, by preventing him from sleeping. A draw.
    He’d just finished clearing the table and was quietly smoking a cigarette when the telephone rang. Instinctively, he looked at his watch. It was nine thirty. Too early for Livia.
    ‘Ah, Chief! I beck yer partin’ for disturbin’ yiz! Wha’, d’jou eat yet?’
    ‘Yeah, Cat, don’t worry about it. What is it?’
    ‘I jess now got a call from a lady says she’s a killin’ lady at the supermarket in Piano Lanterna!’
    ‘I think you mean a cleaning lady, Cat.’
    ‘Why, wha’d I jess say?’
    ‘Never mind. What did she want?’
    ‘She wannit a tell us Porcellino ’ung ’isself.’
    Montalbano wasn’t surprised. In a way he’d expected something like that. ‘Is Fazio still at the office?’
    ‘Nossir, Chief, ’e left on ’is way to the scene wit’ Gallo.’
    *
    When he pulled up outside the supermarket, the newsmen were already there along with fifty or so onlookers who Gallo and another police officer were keeping at bay.
    Inside he found Fazio standing in front of a woman of about forty seated on a chair with her blouse unbuttoned. Beside her, another woman was holding a wet cloth to her forehead, while a third
woman fanned her face with a newspaper.
    Every so often the first woman would strike herself in the chest and say:
    ‘My God, what a fright! Nearly scared me to death!’
    ‘Was she the one who discovered the body?’ the inspector asked Fazio.
    ‘Yes, sir. But it was that girl over there who called us.’
    And he gestured towards a thirtyish young woman leaning against a counter with a broom in her hand.
    ‘Have you informed the prosecutor and Dr Pasquano?’
    ‘Already taken care of.’
    He went over to the girl.
    ‘I’m Inspector Montalbano.’
    ‘My name is Graziella Cusumano.’
    ‘Please tell me how you discovered . . .’
    ‘Me an’ th’other girls come in every night aroun’ nine. We knock at the back door an’ the manager comes an’ opens up for us. But tonight we knocked and
knocked an’ nobody came.’
    ‘Had that ever happened before?’
    ‘Nossir, never.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘So we thought that the manager maybe went home, ’cause ’e didn’t feel so good after the robbery an’ all, an’ I—’
    ‘Who told you about the robbery?’
    ‘Everybody in town knows about it, Inspector! So, anyway, I called him on my mobile, but there was no answer. An’ that seemed strange to me. To be on the safe side, I decided to call
the company an’ explained everything to Filippo Tridicino, who’s a distant relative of mine. He came wit’ the key an’ opened up. Filumena went to clean the manager’s
office, since that’s her job, and when she saw him hangin’ there, she fainted. An’ that’s when I called you.’
    ‘What time does the supermarket close?’
    ‘At eight. But it wasn’t open this afternoon.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘I dunno. My cousin, who works at the shop as a cashier, told me. The manager told all the staff that we wouldn’t be opening again after lunch.’
    ‘Thanks,’ said Montalbano, and he headed for the manager’s office.
    *
    Borsellino had climbed onto a chair that he’d put on the desk, threaded a rope around a beam, looped the other end around his neck, kicked the chair away, and that was
that.
    Montalbano sat down, lit a cigarette, and started studying the corpse – which was swaying ever so slightly first to the right, then to the left, pushed back and forth by a gentle
draft.
    Fazio came in.
    ‘I took statements from