IM10 August Heat (2008) Read Online Free PDF Page B

surrounding the house is different from the rest; the slightest thing could make it give way.”
    “What do you mean, ‘different from the rest’?” asked Montalbano.
    “Follow me,” the fire chief said.
    He took some ten steps away from the house, with Montalbano and Guido following behind him.
    “Look at the color of the soil here, then look how, ten yards up, near the house, it changes color. The soil we’re standing on is natural to the place; that other soil, which is lighter and yellowish, is sandy. It was brought here deliberately.”
    “Why did they do that?”
    “I have no idea,” said the fire chief. “Maybe to make the house stand out, make it look more elegant. Ah, finally, here comes the mechanical shovel.”
    Before putting the excavator to work, however, the fire chief wanted to lighten the weight of the sandy soil lying over the path of the depression. So, shovels in hand, three firemen started digging along the side of the house, dumping the dirt into three wheelbarrows, which their colleagues then emptied about ten yards away.
    After they had removed about a foot of soil, they had a surprise. At the point where the house’s foundations should have begun, there was a kind of second wall, perfectly plastered. To prevent the plaster from being damaged by humidity, sheets of plastic had been stuck to the wall to protect it.
    In short, it was as if the house continued, all wrapped up, underground.
    “All of you, dig down under the window of the smaller bathroom,” the fire chief ordered.
    And, little by little, the upper part of another window, perfectly aligned with the one above it, began to emerge. It had no casing in it, but was only a rectangular aperture with double sheets of plastic over it.
    “There’s another apartment down here!” said Guido in astonishment.
    At this point, Montalbano suddenly understood everything.
    “Stop digging!” he ordered.
    Everyone stopped and looked at him questioningly.
    “Has anyone got a flashlight?” he asked.
    “I’ll go get one!” said one of the firemen.
    “Break the plastic over the window,” the inspector further ordered.
    Two jabs of the shovel sufficed. The firemen brought him the flashlight.
    “You all wait here,” Montalbano said, straddling the window.
    He immediately no longer needed the flashlight, since the light coming in through the opening was more than enough.
    He found himself inside a small bathroom, identical with the one on the floor above it. It was, moreover, a perfectly finished bathroom, with tiled floors and walls, a shower, sink, toilet, and bidet.
    As he was looking around, wondering what this all could mean, something grazed against his leg, making him jump into the air from fright.
    “Mrrrow,” said Ruggero.
    “Nice to see you again,” said the inspector.
    He turned on the flashlight and followed the animal into the room next door.
    There, the weight of the water and soil had broken through the plastic over the window, turning the room into a bog.
    And there was Bruno, standing in a corner, eyes shut tight. He had a cut on his forehead and was trembling all over as if he had malaria.
    “Bruno, it’s me, Salvo,” the inspector said softly.
    The little boy opened his eyes, recognized Montalbano, and ran to him, open-armed. The inspector embraced him, and Bruno started crying.
    At that moment, Guido, who couldn’t wait any longer, burst into the room.
     
     
     
    “Livia? Bruno’s all right.”
    “Is he injured?”
    “He has a cut on his forehead, but I don’t think it’s serious. In any case, Guido is taking him to the emergency room in Montereale. Tell Laura and, if it’s all right with her, you should accompany her there. I’ll wait for you all here.”
     
     
     
    Straddling the window through which Montalbano had entered, the fire chief came out. He looked bewildered.
    “There’s a whole apartment down here, exactly like the one upstairs. There’s even a terrace with a railing around it! All