IM3 The Snack Thief (2003) by Andrea Camilleri

Author:Andrea Camilleri [Camilleri, Andrea]
Format: epub
Tags: Andrea Camilleri
Publisher: Viking Press
Published: 2003-07-09T16:00:00+00:00

Summoned by Valente, Master Rahman, an elementary- school teacher who looked like a pure Sicilian and served as an unofficial liaison between his people and the Mazarese authorities, arrived in ten minutes.

Montalbano had met him the year before, when involved in the case later dubbed the terra-cotta dog.

Were you in the middle of a lesson? asked Valente.

In an uncommon show of good sense, a school principal in Maz, without involving the superintendency, had allowed some classrooms to be used to create a school for the local Tunisian children.

Yes, but I called in a substitute. Is there a problem?

Perhaps you could help clarify something for us.

About what?

About whom, rather. Ben Dhahab.

They had decided,Valente and Montalbano, to sing only half the Mass to the schoolteacher. Afterwards, depending on his reactions, they would determine whether or not to tell him the whole story.

Upon hearing that name, Rahman made no effort to hide his uneasiness.

What would you like to know?

It was up to Valente to make the first move; Montalbano was only a guest.

Did you know him?

He came and introduced himself to me about ten days ago. He knew who I was and what I represent. You see, last January or thereabouts, a Tunis newspaper published an article on our school.

And what did he say to you?

He said he was a journalist.

Valente and Montalbano exchanged a very quick glance.

He wanted to do a feature on the lives of our countrymen in Maz. But he intended to present himself to everyone as somebody looking for a job. He also wanted to sign

on with a fishing boat. I introduced him to my colleague El Madani. And he put him in touch with Signora Pipabout renting a room.

Did you ever see him again?

Of course. We ran into each other a few times by chance. We also were both at the same festival. He had become, well, perfectly integrated.

Was it you who set him up with the fishing boat?

No. It wasnt El Madani, either.

Who paid for his funeral?

We did. We have a small emergency fund that we set up for such things.

And who gave the TV reporters the photos and information on Ben Dhahab?

I did. You see, at that festival I mentioned, there was a photographer. Ben Dhahab objected; he said he didnt want anyone taking his picture. But the man had already taken one. And so, when the TV reporter showed up, I got hold of that photo and gave it to him, along with the bit of information Ben Dhahab had told me about himself.

Rahman wiped away his sweat. His uneasiness had increased. And Valente, who was a good cop, let him stew in his juices.

But theres something strange in all this, Rahman decided.

Montalbano and Valente seemed not even to have heard him, looking as if their minds were elsewhere. But in fact they were paying very close attention, like cats that, keeping their eyes closed as if asleep, are actually counting the stars.

Yesterday I called the newspaper in Tunis to tell them about the incident and to make arrangements for the body.

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