Montalbano's First Case by Andrea Camilleri

Author:Andrea Camilleri [Camilleri, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480426467
Publisher: Mondadori

7

The next morning, which looked like something out of a magazine, he woke up early, took a long walk on the shore, showered, got dressed, and was at the station by eight.

“How did Rosanna do last night?” he asked Galluzzo.

“She was busy, sir.”

“What do you mean busy? Did she sleep with someone?”

“She chatted, sir. With Fazio. Now she’s asleep in the holding room and Fazio is in the service room on a cot. He said to wake him up as soon as you got in.”

“Let him sleep. I’ll tell you when to wake him.”

The journalist Nicolò Zito showed up right on time at eight thirty. Montalbano told him Rosanna’s story and Zito, who was a regular bloodhound, immediately picked up the scent.

“What I can do for you, Inspector?”

Montalbano handed him the girl’s ID.

“You should … Can I call you Nicolò?”

“Certainly.”

“Nicolò, you should enlarge this picture and today, during one of your newscasts, put it on the air.”

“And what should I say?”

“You should ask the families Rosanna Monaco worked for over the past four years to contact us here at the station. Add that we would be extremely grateful and extremely discreet.”

“Very well. I think I can run it during our noon edition.”

After Zito left, Montalbano asked one of his officers to wake Fazio, who rushed into the room without even combing his hair.

“Sir, things are complicated.”

Fazio looked nervous; he didn’t know where to start.

“Look, Fazio, just tell me right away what is that you don’t know how to tell me: that’s the best way to do it.”

“Sir, this morning at the crack of dawn, after we spent the whole night chatting, Rosanna started to cry and said that she couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Excuse me, just out of curiosity: Why were you keeping her company?”

“I felt sorry for her.”

“Okay, continue.”

“She had a sort of nervous breakdown. She even passed out. She even told me who ordered her to kill Judge Rosato and gave her the gun.”

“And who’s that?”

“Her lover, sir. Giuseppe Cusumano.”

“And who’s that?” Montalbano repeated, bewildered.

“What do you mean who’s that? Sir, you just testified at his trial!”

He suddenly remembered. The youngster who had punched the old gentleman in the face! The beloved nephew of Don Sisìno Cuffaro.

Now they really had to watch their step!

“What should we do, sir?”

“What would you have done if Rosanna had told you any other name and not that of the nephew of a big mafia boss like Don Sisìno Cuffaro?”

“I would have gone to pick him up discreetly, I would have brought him here, and I would have asked him a few questions.”

“So what are you waiting for? Go find him. Wait. Do you think I should go talk to the girl first?”

“I dunno. It’s up to you.”

He wasn’t absolutely sure Rosanna was going to be as cooperative with him as she had been with Fazio. But now, since Cusumano’s name had come up, things were different, and Montalbano couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. He left the station, went to a store, bought a summer dress, had it wrapped, went back to the station, and opened the holding room.

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