The Patience of the Spider Read Online Free PDF Page B

judge very
probably will allow you to pay, and
    What will I pay with? How can I pay? the man cried in
desperation. Doesnt everyone know that we get by on my
pension? And that the only thing we own is this house?
    Montalbano was standing near Fazio. He heard him whisper
under his breath:
Matre santa! So ...
    He had Gallo drop him off at Susannas study-companions
place. The girl went by the name of Tina Lofaro and lived on
    the towns main street in a three-storey building that, like
most of the buildings in the center of town, was rather old. As
the inspector was about to ring the intercom, the front door
opened and out came a woman of about fifty, trailing an empty
shopping cart behind her.
    Please leave the door open, Montalbano said to her.
    The woman hesitated a moment, reaching behind her
with one arm to hold the door open, torn between courtesy
and caution. But after looking him up and down, she made up
her mind and walked away. The inspector went in and closed
the door behind him. There was no elevator. On the mailboxes,
the Lofaro familys residence corresponded to apartment
number six, and since there were two flats per floor, that
meant that he would have to climb up three flights of stairs.
He had purposely avoided letting them know he was coming.
He knew from experience that an unannounced visit from a
man of the law always provokes at least a little unease, even in
the most honest of people, who immediately wonder: What
have I done wrong? Because all honest people believe that at
one time or another they have done something wrong, perhaps
without even realizing, whereas dishonest people are always
convinced theyve acted honestly. Therefore all of them,
honest and dishonest, feel uneasy. And this helps one find the
chinks in everyones armor.
    The inspector thus hoped, when ringing the doorbell, that
Tina herself would answer. Caught by surprise, the girl would
certainly reveal whether or not Susanna had told her some little
secret that might help the investigation.
    The door opened, and there appeared a short, homely girl
of about twenty, dark as a crow, chubby and wearing thick
    eyeglasses. Tina, surely. The element of surprise worked. But
    in reverse.
    Im Inspector Mon
    talbano! said Tina, a big smile cleaving her face from
ear to ear. Wow! How cool! I never thought Id meet you!
Cool! Im so excited Im starting to sweat! Im so happy!
    Montalbano couldnt move. He looked like hed turned
into a puppet without strings. To his bewilderment, he noticed
a strange phenomenon. The girl before him had started
to evaporate. A cloud of steam was enveloping her. Tina was
melting like a pat of butter in the summer sun. The girl then
extended a sweaty hand, grabbed the inspector by the wrist,
pulled him inside, and closed the door. Then she stood there
in front of him, speechless and ecstatic, face red as a ripe watermelon,
hands joined in prayer, eyes glistening. For a brief
moment, Montalbano felt exactly like the Blessed Virgin of
Pompeii.
    I would like he ventured.
    Of course! Im so sorry! Come! said Tina, rousing herself
from her ecstasy and leading him into the inevitable sitting
room. Boy, the moment I saw you there before me in
the flesh, I nearly fainted! How are you? Have you recovered?
This is amazing! I always see you when you appear on TV, you
know. And I read a lot of detective novels, I just love them, but
you, Inspector, youre a lot better than Maigret, or Poirot,
or...You want a coffee?
    Who? asked Montalbano, dazed.
    Since the girl had spoken almost without interruption,
the inspector had heard only something like Uwanakafi,
    thinking this might be the protagonist detective of some African
    writer with whom he was unfamiliar.
    So, will you have some coffee?
    Maybe it was just the thing.
    Yes, if it isnt a bother...
    Not at all! Mama went out shopping about five minutes
ago and Im all alone because the