throat.
“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Who’s there with you?”
“Nobody! Who could possibly be here with me?”
“Never mind. Beba called me. Mimi told her he would have to do another stakeout tomorrow night.”
Good. That meant he had calculated correctly.
“Did you tell Beba to be patient a little while longer?”
“Yes. But you’re not being straight with me.”
“What am I not being straight—”
“You’re not alone.”
Jesus, what a nose! What, did she have antennae or something ? Did she talk with the dead?
“Come on, knock it off!”
“Swear it!”
“If you really care that much, I swear it.”
“Bah. Good night.”
Well, that was that. Livia had got what she deserved. She had pushed things so far that he, in all innocence, had been forced to lie to her, and to swear to the lie. In all innocence? Not so fast! In reality he wasn’t all that innocent. Livia had been right on target. It was true there was another person there with him, and a woman at that, but how could he ever have explained to her that this woman wasn’t . . . He imagined how their conversation would have gone.
Dammit and dammit again! She was right. That bed was not just his; it was both of theirs.
Forget about it.
He went back out on the veranda and sat down. Reaching into his pocket, he dug out Mimi’s letter, which he had brought with him to show Ingrid, later changing his mind. He didn’t reread it, but only stared at the envelope, thinking.
Why had Mimi had Galluzzo copy a letter so personal and confidential? This was one of the first questions he’d asked himself when Galluzzo brought it to him. Mimi could very well have typed it up himself, stuck it in an envelope, and had someone pass it on to him, if he really didn’t want to do it in person.
Didn’t Mimi realize that in so doing he was involving a third party in the delicate situation between the two of them? And then, why choose Galluzzo of all people, who had a loose tongue and a journalist for a brother-in-law?
Wait a minute. Maybe there was an explanation. What if, in fact, Mimi had done it on purpose? Steady, Montalba, you’re almost there.
Mimi had acted in this fashion because he wanted others to know about the matter—because he wanted it to have a certain amount of publicity.
And why would he do that? Simple: because he wanted to put his—Montalbano’s—back to the wall. In so doing, the matter could no longer be resolved in secret, behind closed doors, far from the eyes of others. No, in this way Mimi would force him to give an official reply, whatever it was. Smart move, no doubt about it.
He picked up the envelope, pulled out the letter, and reread it. There were at least two things about the letter that caught his attention.
The first was the tone.
When Mimi had asked him in person what his intentions were as to who should conduct the investigation, ruling out any possibility of collaboration, he was aggressive, rude, obnoxious, scornful.
In the letter, on the other hand, his tone had changed. Here, in fact, he presented the reasons for his request, explaining that he needed space and total autonomy. He let it be known that there wasn’t enough breathing room for him in the police department. And this was understandable. Mimi had been working for many years under him, and very rarely had he given him free rein. He had to be honest and recognize this.
In the letter he also said that by entrusting the case to him, the inspector could put all of Mimi’s abilities to the test.
In conclusion, Mimi was asking for help.
Exactly that. He had even used the word:
Think harder, Montalba, try to reflect with an open mind, without anger, without falling prey to resentment.
Wasn’t it possible that Mimi’s aggressive, belligerent attitude was his own very personal way of calling to other people’s attention a situation he couldn’t get out of alone?
All right, let’s admit this. Then what did the investigation have to do with it? Why was Mimi so fixated on it? Why had it become, from one day to the next, so important to his very existence?
One possible answer might be that, once he was involved in a difficult, complex investigation, Mimi would
