“Did you read the novel, Mimi?”
“What novel?”
“If I’m not mistaken, along with the letters, I gave you some sort of novel that Sanfilippo—”
“No, I haven’t read it yet.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not? I’ve been racking my brains with those letters! And before I get to the novel, I want to find out if my hunch about Sanfilippo’s lover is correct.”
He got up.
“Where are you going?”
“I have an engagement.”
“Look, Mimi, this isn’t some kind of hotel where you can—”
“But I promised Beba I’d take her to—”
“All right, all right, just this once. You can go,” Montalbano conceded, magnanimously.
“Hello, Malaspina Tours? Inspector Montalbano here. Is your driver Tortorici there?”
“Just walked in. He’s right here beside me. I’ll put him on.”
“Good evening, Inspector,” said Tortorici.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I need some information.”
“At your service.”
“Tell me something, on your tours, do people usually take photos on the bus?”
“Well, yes ... but ...”
He seemed tongue-tied, hesitant.
“Well, do they take them or not?”
“I’m ... I’m sorry, Inspector. Could I call you back in five minutes, not a second longer?”
He called back before the five minutes were up.
“I apologize again, Inspector, but I couldn’t talk in front of the accountant.”
“Why not?”
“You see, Inspector, the pay’s not so good here.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Well, I ... supplement my wages, Inspector.”
“Explain yourself better, Tortorici.”
“Almost all the passengers bring cameras. When we’re about to leave, I tell them they’re not allowed to take pictures inside the coach. They can take as many as they like when we get to our destination. The only person allowed to take pictures when we’re on the road is me. They always fall for it. Nobody complains.”
“Excuse me, but if you’re driving, how can you take pictures?”
“I ask the ticket man or one of the passengers to do it for me. Then I have them developed and sell them to anyone who wants a souvenir.”
“Why didn’t you want the accountant to hear you?”
“Because I never asked his permission to take pictures.”
“All you’d have to do is ask, and there’d be no problem.”
“Right. And with one hand he’d give me permission, and with the other he’d ask for a cut. My wages are peanuts, Inspector.”
“Do you save the negatives?”
“Of course.”
“Could I have the ones from the last excursion to Tindari?”
“I’ve already had all those developed! After the Griffos disappeared, I didn’t have the heart to sell them. But now that they’ve been murdered, I’m sure I could sell ‘em all, and at double the price!”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy the developed photos and you can keep the negatives. That way you can sell them however you like.”
“When do you want them?”
“As soon as you can get them to me.”
“Right now I have to go to Montelusa on an errand. Is it all right if I drop them off at the station tonight around nine o‘clock?”
