The Terra-Cotta Dog

been like issuing a press release.'

'One of these days I'm going to give that Jacomuzzi a good dressing down ...I'm going to skin him alive,' said the commissioner, sighing. 'Now tell me the whole story, but slowly, and in chronological order.'

Montalbano told him about Misuraca and the letter the cavaliere had sent him.

'He was murdered needlessly,' he concluded. 'His killers didn't know he'd already written to me and told me everything.'

'Listen, explain to me what reason Ingrassia had for being near his supermarket while the phony robbery was taking place, if were to believe Misuraca.'

'If there were any other snagsan untimely visit, for examplehe could jump out and readily explain that everything was all right and they were sending the merchandise back because the people at Brancatos had got the order wrong.'

'And what about the night watchman in the freezer?'

'He was no longer a problem. They would have bumped him off.'

'How should we proceed?' the commissioner asked after a pause.

'Tano the Greek has given us a tremendous gift, even without naming any names,' Montalbano began, 'and we shouldn't waste it. If we go about this carefully, we could get our hands on a network the size of which we can't even imagine. But we've got to be cautious. If we immediately arrest Ingrassia or someone from the Brancato firm, we'll come up empty for all our effort. We need to aim for the bigger fish.'

'I agree,' said the commissioner. 'I'll call Catania and tell them to put a tail on..'

He broke off with a grimace, painfully remembering the mole who'd talked in Palermo and brought about Tanos death. There might well be another in Catania.

'Let's start at the bottom,' he decided. 'We'll put only Ingrassia under surveillance.'

'All right. I'll get the court order from the judge,' said the inspector.

As he was heading out the door, the commissioner called him back inside.

'By the way, my wife is feeling much better. How would Saturday evening do for you? We have a lot to discuss.'

...

He found Judge Lo Bianco in an unusually good mood, his eyes sparkling.

'You look well,' the inspector couldn't help saying.

'Yes, yes, I'm quite well, in fact.' He then looked around, assumed a conspiratorial air, leaned towards Montalbano, and said in a low voice: 'Did you know that Rinaldo had six fingers on his right hand?'

Montalbano faltered a moment, befuddled. Then he remembered that the judge had been working devotedly for years on a ponderous book entitled The Life and Deeds of Rinaldo and Antonio Lo Bianco, Masters of Law at the University of Girgenti at the time of King Martin the Younger (1402-1409). Lo Bianco had got it into his head that the two ancient barristers were his ancestors.

'Oh, really?' Montalbano asked with jovial surprise. It was best to humor him.

'Yes, indeed. Six fingers, on his right hand.'

Jerking off must have been heaven, Montalbano was about to say sacrilegiously, but managed to restrain himself.

He told the judge everything about the weapons traffic and Misuracas murder. He even detailed the strategy he wanted to follow and asked him for a court order to tap Ingrassias phone lines.

Normally, Lo Bianco would have raised objections, created obstacles, imagined problems. This time, delighted with his discovery of Rinaldos six-fingered hand, he would have granted Montalbano an order to torture, impale, or burn someone at the stake.

He went home, put on his bathing suit, went for a long, long swim, came back inside, dried himself off, but did not get dressed again. There was nothing in the refrigerator, but in the oven sat, as on a throne, a casserole with four huge servings of pasta n casciata, a dish worthy of Olympus. He ate two portions, put the casserole back in the oven, set his alarm clock, slept like a rock for one hour, got back up, took a shower, put his already dirty jeans and shirt back on, and went to the station.

Fazio, German and Galluzzo were waiting for him in their work clothes. As soon as they saw him, they grabbed their shovels, pickaxes, and mattocks and struck up the old day laborers chorus, shaking their tools in air:

'Give land to those who work! Give land to those who work!'

'Fucking idiots,' was Montalbanos only comment.

Prest Galluzzo's newsman brother-in-law, was already there, at the entrance of the Crasticeddru cave, along with a cameraman who had brought along two large battery-powered floodlights.

Montalbano gave Galluzzo a dirty look.

'Well,' the latter said, blushing, 'I just thought that since you allowed him last time'

'All right, all right,' the inspector cut him off.

They entered the weapons cave, and when Montalbano gave the order, Fazio, German and Galluzzo started working on removing the stones that had fused together over the years. They labored for a good three hours, and even Prest the cameraman, and the inspector joined in, periodically relieving the three men. In the end the wall came down. They could clearly see the little passageway, just as Balassone had said. The rest was lost in darkness.

'You go in first,' Montalbano said to Fazio.