The Age of Doubt Read Online Free PDF

any news of a yacht, the
Vanna
, which was—”
    “Just a second,” the officer interrupted him. “I remember the girl perfectly well, but she didn’t ask me anything about a yacht.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Look, Inspector, you’re the fourth person to come into this office all day. Three men, counting you, and one girl. How could I be mistaken?”
    “And what did she ask you?”
    “She asked me if there was a sailor who worked here at the Harbor Office named . . . Give me a minute to check, because I also asked the Coast Guard . . . Here it is, Angelo Spitaleri, a cousin of hers.”
    “And does he work here?”
    “No.”

    That girl, whose real name might be anything at this point, had taken him for a nice little ride, no doubt about it.
    A little wet dog, she had seemed to him! He’d even felt sorry for her!
    Whereas in fact she must be a very great actress. He could only imagine how hard she must have laughed inside at this inspector whom she was able to manipulate like a puppet.
    But what could be her reason for telling him such a pile of lies? She must have had a purpose. But what?

    Despite the late hour, he returned to the station. Gallo was still there.
    “Listen, do you remember the license-plate number of the car belonging to the girl who spent the day here?”
    “I didn’t look, Chief. All I remember is that it was a blue Fiat Panda.”
    “So there’s no way to identify her?”
    “I’m afraid not, Chief.”
    The inspector called Catarella in.
    “That girl from this morning . . . ,” he began.
    “The one ’at was waitin’ inna waitin’ room?”
    “That’s the one. Did she come and talk to you at any point or ask you anything?”
    “She come once, Chief.”
    “What did she want?”
    “She wannit a know where there’s a batroom.”
    “And did she go?”
    “Yessir, Chief. I’s ’er escort.”
    “Did she do anything strange?”
    Catarella blushed.
    “I dunno.”
    “What do you mean, ‘You don’t know’? Did she or didn’t she?”
    “How’s am I asposta know what the young lady did inna batroom? I ’eard ’er pull the chain, but—”
    “I wasn’t referring to what she did in the bathroom! I meant did she do anything strange when you were escorting her?”
    “I don’ remimber, Chief.”
    “All right, then, you can go.”
    “Unless you’s referrin’ to the noise.”
    “What noise?”
    “Seein’ as how the foresaid young lady was carryin’ a kinda cloth handbag in ’er hand, as the foresaid young lady was goin’ in, the foresaid handbag crashed aginst the door frame, producin’ the foresaid noise.”
    Montalbano could barely refrain from getting up and pummelling him.
    “And what kind of noise was it?”
    “Like a kinda heavy, metal-like ting. An’ so I axed m’self wha’ coulda made the noise. An iron bar? A horseshoe? A li’l branze statue? A—”
    “Could it have been a weapon?” the inspector cut in, interrupting the litany.
    “A dagger?”
    “Or a gun, a pistol.”
    Catarella thought this over for a minute.
    “Possible.”
    “All right, go get me the Palermo phone book.”
    It was something he had to do simply to set his mind at rest. He looked for Vanna Digiulio, thinking it would be useless, but then he actually found the name in the directory.
    He dialed the number and a woman’s voice answered, though it was quite different from the girl’s voice.
    “Hello, this is Dr. Panzica, I was looking for Vanna.”
    “Vanna? Vanna Digiulio?”
    What was so strange about that?
    “That’s right.”
    “But she died years ago!”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
    “And who are you, may I ask?”
    “Fabio Panzica, a probate lawyer. It was over a question of inheritance.”
    At the mere mention of the word
inheritance
, people almost always rush forward faster than a school of starved fish. And this case was no exception.
    “Perhaps it would be better if you gave me a few more details,” the woman said.
    “Gladly. But who are you,