A Voice in the Night by Andrea Camilleri Read Free Book Online Page B

called them. On the night of the supermarket burglary the watchman on duty in the area was a certain Domenico Tumminello, but today’s his day
off.’
    ‘You should ask for his number—’
    ‘Already taken care of.’
    Enough of this damn ‘already taken care of’! What a pain! It set Montalbano’s nerves on edge.
    ‘Have you by any chance called him yet?’
    ‘No, I didn’t want to.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because I realized the poor man might still be asleep, since he’s up all night.’
    ‘Have you got his address?’
    ‘Yes, sir. Salita Lauricella 12.’
    ‘You know what? I think I’ll go and see him myself, right now. If he’s asleep, I’ll let him sleep. Otherwise I want to talk to him.’
    *
    Salita Lauricella 12 was a small three-storey building in a rather neglected state. The main door was open, and there was no intercom system.
    He went in, and as there was no doorbell outside the first door he came to, he knocked. Absolute silence. He knocked harder, adding a couple of kicks as well.
    ‘Who is it?’ asked the voice of an elderly woman.
    ‘Inspector Montalbano, police.’
    ‘Whassatt? Talbano fleece? Talk louder, ’cause I’m a little deaf.’
    ‘Inspector Montalbano, police!’
    ‘Who do you want?’
    ‘I’m looking for Mr Tumminello.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘A little deaf’ wasn’t quite accurate. The lady wouldn’t even have heard a naval battle in the port of Vigàta.
    ‘I’m looking for Mr Tumminello!’ Montalbano yelled.
    ‘Parrinello?’
    Luckily a woman of about forty stuck her head out over the banister on the landing above.
    ‘Who are you looking for?’
    ‘I’m looking for Domenico Tumminello.’
    ‘I’m his wife. Come upstairs, sir, please come upstairs.’
    Why did she sound so worried?
    Montalbano didn’t have time to climb the first of the three stairs before the woman came rushing down to him. He noticed that she was breathing heavily and looked scared out of her
wits.
    ‘What happened to my husband? What happened to him?’
    ‘Don’t be upset, signora. Nothing’s happened to him. Is he not at home?’
    ‘No, sir. But why are you looking for him?’
    ‘I need some information from him. Do you know where I can find him at this hour?’
    The woman didn’t answer; two large tears rolled down her face.
    She turned her back to him and started going upstairs.
    Montalbano followed her. He found himself in a dining room, and the woman sat him down as she drank a glass of water.
    ‘Signora, as you must have heard, I’m a police inspector. Can you tell me why you’re so frightened?’
    The woman sat down in turn, kneading her hands.
    ‘Yesterday morning, Minico, my husband, got off work at six and came back here. He drank a little hot milk and then went to bed. I went out to do the shopping, and when I came back –
it must have been around ten – the phone rang. The person said he was from the institution that Minico works for.’
    ‘Did he tell you his name?’
    ‘No, sir. He only said: “I’m from the institution.” ’
    ‘Had you ever spoken to him before?’
    ‘No, never.’
    ‘OK, go on.’
    ‘He said that Minico had to come to the institution at once because there was a client there who was complaining that Minico hadn’t done his job right. He repeated that Minico should
come at once, an’ then he hung up.’
    ‘And what did you do?’
    ‘What was I supposed to do? I woke Minico up, tol’ him about the phone call, and he got dressed, dead tired as he was, poor thing, and left.’
    She started crying, heaving with sobs this time. Montalbano filled her glass with water and had her drink it. ‘And what happened next?’
    ‘I haven’t seen ’im since.’
    ‘He never came home? He never called? He didn’t try to get in touch in any way?’
    The woman shook her head. She was unable to speak.
    ‘Does your husband own a car?’
    She shook her head again.
    ‘Listen, have you called the institution?’
    ‘Of course. They deny everything . .