The Scent of the Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

of things, don't you know that? There are special judges for minors, don't you know that? You're supposed to follow the law, not avoid it! This is not the Wild West!'
    Exhausted, he paused. Montalbano didn't breathe a word.
    'And that's not all! Not content with this fine exploit, you make a present of the boy to your assistant's sister, as if he were some kind of object! This is the stuff of heartless people, the stuff of actionable offences! But we'll come back to that part. It gets worse. The prostitute possessed a bank booklet, a passbook showing half a billion lire on deposit. At some point, this booklet passed into your hands. And then it disappeared! What happened to it? Did you split the money with your friend and accomplice Domenico Augello?'
    Very slowly, Montalbano placed his hand on the desk, then, also very slowly, he leaned his upper body forward; and, very slowly, he brought his head into the cone of light made by the lamp. Bonetti-Alderig hi got scared. Half lit, Montal bano's face looked exactly like an African mask, the sort that might be worn before a human sacrifice. After all — the commissioner probably thought, feeling a chill — it's not that far from Sicily to Africa. The inspector looked him deep in the eye, then began to speak very slowly and very softly.
    ‘I’ m going to tell you man to man. Forget about the kid. Leave him out of this. Got that? He's been properly adopted by Augello's sister and her husband. Leave him out of this. For your personal vendettas, your personal bullshit, there's always me, and that should be enough. Agreed?'
    The commissioner didn't answer. Fear and rage made it hard for him to speak.
    'Agreed?' Montalbano asked again.
    And the lower, the calmer, the slower his voice became, the more Bonetti-Alderighi sensed the barely restrained violence behind it.
    'Agreed,' he finally said in a faint voice.
    Montalbano withdrew his face from the light and stood up straight
    ‘ May I ask, Mr Commissioner, where you got all this information?'
    Montalbano's sudden chang e in tone, now formal and slightl y obsequious, so shocked the commissioner that he ended up saying what he had resolved not to say.
    'Somebody wrote to me.'
    Montalbano understood immediately.
    'An anonymous letter, right?'
    ‘ Well, let's say unsigned.'
    'You should be ashamed of yourself,' said the inspector, turning and heading for the door, deaf to the commissioner's shouting.
    'Montalbano, come back here.''
    He wasn't some kind of dog that obeyed all commands. He tore the useless wrapping off his head, enraged. In the corridor he ran straight into Lattes, who stammered:
    ‘I ... think ... the commissioner's calling you.'
    ‘I think he is too.'
    At that moment Lattes realized that Montalbano was no longer wearing the bandage and that his head was intact.
     
    ‘ You're already healed?'
    'Didn't you know the commissioner's a miracle-worker?'
     
    The amazing thing about this whole business, he thought, hands squeezing the steering wheel as he drove back towards Marinella, was that he wasn't upset at the person who'd written the anonymous letter, surely a secret vendetta on the part of Lohengrin Pera, the only one in a position to reconstruct the story of Francois and his mother. And he wasn't even upset at the commissioner. The rage he was feeling was against himself. How could he have forgotten so utterly about the passbook for the live hundred million lire? He'd entrusted it to a friend of his, a notary — this much he remembered perfectly — so that he could manage the money and turn it over to Francois as soon as he came of age. He also remembered, though rather vaguely this time, that about ten days later the same notary had sent him a receipt. But he had no idea where he'd stuck it. The worst of it was that he'd never made any mention of this passbook to either Mimì Augello or his sister. Which meant that Mimì , though totally unaware of anything, might well be called to task by Bonetti-Alderighi's