The Terra-Cotta Dog

'Really and truly mafioso, I don't think so. But he was certainly violent. Various convictions for brawling, violence, and assault. They don't seem like Mafia offenses to me; a mafioso doesn't get himself convicted for stupid shit.'

'What's the date of the last conviction?'

'Nineteen eighty-one, if I'm not mistaken. With one foot in the grave he still busted some guys head with a chair.'

'Do you know if he did any time in jail in 42 and 43?'

'Sure did. Assault and battery. From March 42 to April 43 he was in Palermo, at Ucciardone prison.'

The news from Fazio greatly enhanced the flavor of the peppered cheese, which was already no joking matter all by itself.

21

Galluzzo's brother-in-law opened his news program with the story of a grisly bombing, clearly bearing the Mafia's signature, on the outskirts of Catania. 'A well-known and respected businessman from that city, Corrado Brancato, owner of a large warehouse that supplied supermarkets around the island, had decided to treat himself to an afternoon of rest in a small house he owned just outside of town. After turning the key in the lock, he had, for all intents and purposes, opened the door onto nothingness: a horrific explosion, triggered by an ingenious device linking the door to an explosive charge, literally pulverized the house, the businessman, and his wife, Giuseppa nTagliafico. Investigations, the newsman added, were proving difficult, since Mr. Brancato had a clean record and did not appear to be in any way involved with the Mafia.'

Montalbano turned off the television and started whistling Schubert's Eighth, the Unfinished. It came out splendidly, he didn't miss a note.

He dialed Mimugello's number. Surely his second-in-command would know more about this most recent development. There was no answer.

When he'd finally finished eating, Montalbano made every trace of the meal disappear, carefully washing even the glass from which he'd drunk three gulps of wine. He undressed and was about to get into bed when he heard a vehicle pull up, followed by some voices, a car door shutting, and the car driving away. Very quickly, he slipped under the covers, turned off the light, and pretended to be sleeping deeply. He heard the front door open and close, then Livia's footsteps, which came to a sudden halt. Montalbano realized she'd stopped in the bedroom doorway and was staring at him.

'Stop clowning around.'

Montalbano gave in and turned on the light.

'How did you know I was faking?'

'From your breathing. Do you know how you breathe when you're asleep?'

'No.'

'I do.'

'Where've you been?'

'To Eraclea Minoa and Selinunte.'

'By yourself ?'

'Mr. Inspector, I'll tell you everything, I'll confess, just drop this third degree, for Christ's sake! I went with Mim Augello.'

Montalbano's face turned ugly, and he pointed a threatening finger.

'I'm warning you, Livia: Augello already moved into my desk once. I don't want him moving into anything else of mine.'

Livia stiffened.

'I'm pretending I don't understand. It's better for both of us. But, in any case, I'm not some piece of property of

yours, you asshole of a Sicilian.'

'All right, I'm sorry.'

They kept arguing a good while, even after Livia got undressed and came to bed. As for Mim, however, Montalbano was determined not to let him get away with this. He got up.

'Now where are you going?'

'To give Mim ring.'

'Leave the guy in peace. He would never dream of doing anything that might offend you.'

...

'Hello, Mim, Montalbano here. Oh, you just got in? Good. No, no, don't worry, Livia's just fine. She thanks you for the wonderful time she had with you today. And I, too, want to thank you. Oh, by the way, Mim, did you know that Corrado Brancato was blown up today in Catania? No, I'm not kidding, they said so on TV. You haven't heard anything? What do you mean, you haven't heard anything? Oh, of course, you were out all day. And our colleagues in Catania were probably looking for you over land and sea. And no doubt the commissioner, too, was wondering what had become of you. Well, what can you do. Try to patch it up, I guess. Good night, Mim. Sleep tight.'

'To say you're a real piece of shit is putting it mildly,' said Livia.

'All right,' said Montalbano. 'It was three oclock in the morning. I admit it's all my fault, that when I'm here I get all wrapped up in my thoughts and act as if you didn't exist.'