Treasure Hunt Read Online Free PDF Page A

Livia continued.
    “When?”
    “When you had that moment of vertigo on the ladder.”
    “You’re right. But nobody seemed to notice.”
    “I did. But couldn’t you have sent Augello up there instead? He’s so much younger than you. You really can’t be doing these kinds of things anymore at your age!”
    Montalbano started to worry. So now Livia, too, was starting in with this crap about his age?
    “You talk as if I was fucking Methuselah, for Chrissakes!”
    “Don’t use obscenities, I won’t stand for it! Who ever mentioned Methuselah? You’re becoming so neurotic!”
    With a start like that, the whole thing could only end on a sour note.

    “Ahh Chief, Chief! Ahh Chief! Hizzoner the C’mishner’s been callin’ f’yiz since eight aclack! Jeezis, was he mad! ’E sez ’e wants yiz a call ’im emergently straightaways!”
    “All right, give him a ring and pass the call to me,” said Montalbano, heading for his office.
    His conscience was clean. Since nothing had happened of late, he hadn’t had the opportunity to do anything that might appear a sin of commission or omission in the eyes of the commissioner.
    “Montalbano?”
    “Yes, sir, what can I do for you?”
    “Would you please explain to me why you allowed several television cameramen to do whatever the hell they pleased in the home of those two crazy old people?”
    “But I never—”
    “Just know that I’ve been bombarded with telephone calls of protest—from the bishop’s office to the Union of Catholic Fathers, to the FaFa Club to the—”
    “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t quite get the name of that club.”
    “FaFa. Would you prefer FF? The full name is the Faith and Family Club.”
    “But what are they protesting?”
    “They’re offended by the images of that obscene inflatable doll.”
    “Ah, I see. At any rate, I didn’t allow anyone to go in there.”
    “Oh, no? Then how did they get in?”
    “Through the door, I would imagine.”
    “Breaking the seals?”
    The place had never been sealed off. Should he have ordered it sealed? At any rate, seals or no seals, he should at least have closed the door.
    His only hope was to start talking legalese-bureaucratese, the kind where after a couple of sentences nobody understands a fucking thing anymore.
    “Mr. Commissioner, if I may. In the case in point, we hadn’t ascertained any conditions whereby we should have recourse to the application of said seals, given that while the apartment in question had been the scene of behavior qualifiable, at the very least, as violent, we were not cognizant of any harm having come to anyone’s person as a result of said behavior, and therefore—”
    “Fine, fine, but in entering without authorization, they committed a serious infraction.”
    “A very serious infraction. And there may be more,” said the inspector, trying to up the ante.
    “What do you mean?”
    Pile on the legalese-bureaucratese.
    “Who’s to say the cameraman and journalist didn’t take some of the objects found on the premises? With its voluminous spatial capacity, that apartment could be termed more than a civilian residence. It may well be classifiable as an antiques warehouse, in view of the fact that it contains, however uninventoried, a wealth of artistically sculpted gold crosses, illustrated Bibles of untold value, rosaries of mother-of-pearl, silver, and gold, as well as—”
    “Fine, fine, I’m going to take the necessary measures,” the commissioner interrupted him, put off by Montalbano’s tone of voice.
    And thus the folks at TeleVigàta,having a few cats to comb, would learn their lesson.

    On the midday news broadcast, TeleVigàta’s purse-lipped prince of opinion, Pippo Ragonese, the one with a face like a chicken’s ass, said angrily that the broadcasting station, “known for its absolute independence of judgment,” had been subjected to “strong pressure from a variety of sources” in an attempt to halt any further broadcasting of the news