A Beam of Light by Andrea Camilleri by Camilleri Andrea

Author:Camilleri, Andrea [Camilleri, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Crime, thriller
Amazon: B01K931ZB0
Goodreads: 138694262
Publisher: Turtleback Books
Published: 2012-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

He’d just got home and was opening the French doors to the veranda when Marian rang.

“Hello, my dear Inspector. How are you?”

“Well, and you?”

“Today was a boring day. Lethally boring.”

“Why?”

“I spent the whole day waiting for Lariani’s phone call.”

“And did he call you in the end?”

“Yes, he finally deigned to call at seven. He told me he found what I was looking for.”

“That doesn’t seem like such bad news.”

“Wait before you say anything. He added that the picture was not in Milan and that I wouldn’t be able to see it for another three days. He made me an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

“That while waiting I should come to Switzerland and stay with him at a chalet of his to pass the time. In the end I was convinced.”

Montalbano felt his blood run cold.

“You accepted?”

“No, silly. I was convinced that that was a good way to make the time go by.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain. Tomorrow I’m getting on a plane to Palermo to come back and spend two days with you in Vigàta. And then I’ll go back to Milan. What do you think?”

Hearing these words, he felt torn. On the one hand, he would have liked to start jumping for joy; on the other, he felt quite uneasy.

“So, are you going to answer?”

“Look, Livia, normally I would be overjoyed, as you can imagine. But the fact is that at the moment I’m extremely busy. I would only be able to see you in the evening, and there’s no guarantee that . . .”

He had the impression that the call had been cut off.

“Hello? Hello?” he started yelling.

Whenever his phone connection was cut off he felt as if some limb had been suddenly amputated.

“I’m still here and my name hasn’t changed,” said Marian in a voice that sounded as if it were coming from a polar ice floe.

He didn’t understand a word she said.

“What that’s supposed to mean, that your name hasn’t changed?”

“You called me Livia!”

“I did?!”

“Yes, you did!”

He felt annihilated.

“I’m sorry” was all he managed to say.

“And you think that’s enough to make up, saying you’re sorry?”

He didn’t know how to answer.

“Okay, don’t worry, I won’t come down,” said Marian.

“I didn’t tell you not to come, I was just trying to explain that—”

“Okay, okay, end of subject. I’ll be out late tonight, I’m going to dinner with a girlfriend. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night, Inspector.”

Good night, Inspector. Curt, dry. With no “my dear.”

His appetite was gone. He went and sat down on the veranda with a bottle of whisky and a pack of cigarettes at his side.

But as soon as he sat down he had to get back up because the phone was ringing. It must be Livia.

Remember that name well, Montalbà: Livia. Don’t fuck up again. Once is more than enough.

“Hello?”

“Excuse me for a minute ago. I acted foolishly.”

“I . . .”

“No, don’t say anything, because when you speak, you only get yourself into trouble. I just wanted to wish you good night again. Good night, my dear Inspector.

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