The Track of Sand Read Online Free PDF Page A

out for a candlelight dinner, never mind the inevitable conclusion. Just for the pleasure of being together.”
    “You know perfectly well that’s not true.”
    “Unfortunately, it’s just as I say. What do you need this time? Consolation? Assistance? An accomplice?”
    “Nothing like that at all. I want you to tell me about your friend Rachele. Is she there with you?”
    “No, she’s dining in Fiacca tonight with the organizers of the horse race. I didn’t feel like going. Did you find her attractive?”
    “It’s not a private matter.”
    “My, my, how formal we’ve suddenly become! Well, just so you know, when Rachele got back she did nothing but talk about you. About how gracious you are, how understanding, friendly, even handsome, which I think is going a bit too far ...When do you want to get together?”
    “Whenever you like.”
    “What would you say if I came to Marinella?”
    “Right now?”
    “Why not? What did Adelina make for you?”
    “I haven’t checked yet.”
    “Go look and then set the table on the veranda. I’m very hungry. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

    A bowl stuffed with so much caponata that it overflowed. Six mullets in a cipuddrata . More than enough for two.Wine, he had. He set the table outside. It was chilly, but there wasn’t even a hint of wind. Just to be sure, he went and checked if he still had any whisky. There was only about two fingers’ worth left in the bottle. Dinner with Ingrid was inconceivable without a well-irrigated finale. He dropped everything and got in his car.
    At the Marinella Bar he bought two bottles for which they made him pay four times the normal price. As he turned onto the small road that led home, he saw Ingrid’s powerful red car. But she wasn’t there. He called her name, but she didn’t answer. He figured she’d probably gone down to the beach, circled around the house, and entered through the veranda doors.
    He opened the door, but Ingrid did not come to greet him. He called out.
    “I’m in here,” he heard her answer from the bedroom.
    He set the bottles down on the table and went into the bedroom, where he saw her crawling out from under the bed.
    “What are you doing?” he asked, confused.
    “I was hiding.”
    “You want to play hide-and-seek?”
    Only then did he notice that Ingrid was pale and that her hands were trembling a little.
    “What on earth happened?”
    “When I got here I rang the doorbell and, when you didn’t answer, I decided to come in through the veranda. But as soon as I turned the corner I saw two men come out of the house and leave. So I got worried and went inside, thinking that . . . Then I realized those guys might come back, so I hid. Have you got any whisky?”
    “As much as you like.”
    They went out into the living room, where he opened a bottle and poured her half a glass. She gulped it down.
    “That’s better.”
    “Did you get a good look at them?”
    “No, just a glimpse. I immediately stepped back.”
    “Were they armed?”
    “I couldn’t say.”
    “Come.”
    He led her out onto the veranda.
    “Which way did they go?”
    Ingrid looked doubtful.
    “I wouldn’t know. When I stuck my head back out a few minutes later, they were already gone, vanished.”
    “Strange. There’s even some moonlight. You should at least have seen two shadows running away.”
    “No, there wasn’t anyone.”
    So did that mean they had hidden somewhere nearby and were waiting for him to return?
    “Wait here just one minute,” he said to Ingrid.
    “Not on your life. I’m coming with you.”
    Montalbano went out the door with Ingrid practically glued to his back, opened his car, took his pistol out of the glove compartment, and put it in his pocket.
    “Is your car locked?” he asked.
    “No.”
    “Lock it.”
    “You lock it,” she said, handing him the keys.“But check first and make sure there’s nobody hiding inside.”
    Montalbano looked inside the car, locked it, and they went back into