“That’s not what I’m saying. Do you know what it means to be the godfather at a baby’s baptism?”
“I dunno, you hold the baby while the priest—” Livia shook her forefinger.
“Sorry, darling, but becoming a godfather means taking on specific responsibilities. Didn’t you know?”
“No,” Montalbano said sincerely.
“If anything should happen to the father, the godfather is supposed to take his place in all matters concerning the child.
He becomes a kind of standin for the father.”
“Really?!” said Montalbano, in shock.
“Ask around, if you don’t believe me. So, what may happen is that next time you arrest this Pasquale, he’ll go to jail and you’ll have to see to the needs of his son and keep an eye on his behavior . . . Can you imagine that?” “Er . . . shall I bring the fish?” asked Enzo.
“No,” said Montalbano.
“Yes,” said Livia.
Livia refused to let him drive her home, taking the bus to Marinella instead. Since he hadn’t eaten anything, Montalbano skipped the walk along the jetty and went back to the office. It wasn’t even three o’clock yet. Catarella intercepted him in the main entrance.
“Ahh, Chief! Chief! The c’mishner called!”
“When?”
“Now, now! In fack, he’s still onna line!” The inspector grabbed the phone from the closet that passed for a switchboard.
“Montalbano? You must activate yourself immediately,” Commissioner Bonetti-Alderighi said in an imperious tone.
How was he supposed to do that? By pushing a button?
Turning a knob? And wasn’t the propellorlike spin his cojones went into whenever he so much as heard the commissioner’s voice a kind of activation?
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve just been informed that Inspector Augello fell and hurt himself in the course of his investigations. He must be immediately replaced. You, for the moment, will take over for him. But don’t take any initiatives. Within a few hours I’ll arrange for a younger person to step in.” Ah, how kind and sensitive of the commissioner! A younger person. What, did Bonetti-Alderighi somehow think himself a babe in arms?
“Gallo!”
He put all the pique that was bubbling up inside him into that shout. Gallo appeared in an instant.
“What is it, Chief?”
“Find out where Inspector Augello is. Apparently he’s hurt himself. We must go relieve him at once.” Gallo turned pale.
Why was he so worried about Augello? The inspector tried to console him.
“I don’t think it’s anything serious, you know. He must have slipped and—”
“I was thinking about myself, Chief.”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, Chief, it must’ve been something I ate . . .
The fact is that my stomach’s all upside down and I’m running to the bathroom every couple of minutes.”
“Well, you’ll just have to hold it in.”
Gallo went out muttering to himself, then returned a few minutes later.
“Inspector Augello and his team are in Cancello district, on the road to Gallotta. About forty-five minutes from here.”
“Let’s go. Go fetch the squad car.”
o o o
They’d been rolling along the provincial road for over half an hour when Gallo turned to Montalbano and said:
“Chief, I can’t take it anymore.”
“How far are we from Cancello?”
“A couple of miles at most, but I—”
“Okay, pull over the first chance you get.” On their right began a sort of trail marked by a tree with a board nailed to it. On the board were the words: fresh eggs.
The countryside was uncultivated, a forest of wild plants.
Gallo turned onto the trail, stopped almost at once, dashed out of the car, and disappeared behind a thicket of boxthorn.
