Angelica's Smile by Andrea Camilleri Read Free Book Online

high speed and understood the way the inspector’s brain worked.
    It was going to be a thrilling game of chess.

    When he went to pick up Livia, he noticed she was wearing an outfit he hadn’t seen before.
    A pleated skirt and elegant blouse, Thirties-style, with two sorts of flounces in front.
    “Nice outfit,” he said.
    “Do you like it? A friend of mine made it for me; he’s a tailor. He wanted to put some flounces hanging from behind, too, but to me it seemed a little excessive.”
    It was not a flash, but a veritable lightning bolt, zigzagging through space, followed by a deafening thunderclap, that struck and nearly burned up the inspector’s brain, leaving him dazed and numb.
    Livia got worried.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing, just a slight dizzy feeling. I must be tired. Tell me something: Is your tailor’s name Carlo?”
    “Yes, and for your information, he’s not a criminal,” Livia replied defensively. “Actually he’s a wonderful, honest person,” she continued. “But how did you guess his name?”
    “Guess? I didn’t guess anything. You told me yourself.”
    “Really? I don’t remember. Shall we go?

    The Rewards of Trust.
    A novel for girls from good families with strict customs.
    A man consumed by jealousy distorts the meaning of something his woman says in her sleep and torments himself for days, subjecting her to interrogations, quarrels, and traps. Only when his insane jealousy subsides does he reap his rewards. In fact, the woman by chance reveals the true and entirely innocent meaning of the words she said in her sleep. And as of that moment, the man’s love for the woman of his life increases manifold.
    Not bad, eh? And instructive too.
    Signora Fazio made simple but tasteful dishes. A fish soup and crispy fried mullets. And the cannoli Montalbano had brought were delicious.
    In the presence of the two women, the inspector and Fazio did not talk about work.
    At a quarter to eleven, Montalbano drove Livia back to Marinella with Fazio following behind, and then got into Fazio’s car.
    At ten past eleven, Fazio’s cell phone rang. It was Gallo.
    “Macaluso’s just left his home and taken the Vigàta road. He’s driving a yellow Mitsubishi. There are three other men with him. I’m following behind. Where are you guys?”
    “In Marinella.”
    “If you ask me, he’s headed for Montereale. If you stay where you are, we’ll drive right past you. If he changes direction, I’ll let you know.”
    They positioned themselves at the end of Montalbano’s access road, with headlights off and the nose of the car just off the main road.
    About ten minutes later they saw a yellow Mitsubishi drive by.
    Then, two cars behind the Mitsubishi, a Volkswagen Polo.
    “That’s Gallo’s car,” said Fazio.
    And he pulled out behind him.
    “We’re right behind you,” Fazio told him over the cell phone.
    “I saw you.”
    They passed Montereale, then Sicudiana, then Montallegro. At ten minutes to twelve, Macaluso’s car was still forging on.
    Then they saw the Mitsubishi flash its right turn signal and go into a large sort of parking area.
    As they drove past, Montalbano and Fazio noticed three other cars parked there.
    “The other cars are already there,” said the inspector.
    At that moment Gallo shouted through the cell phone:
    “I’m going back! I’m gonna get them!”
    A second later they saw his car coming toward them at an insane speed.
    Fazio let him pass, then made a U-turn so fast that the car nearly flipped.
    By the time they pulled into the parking area, Gallo already had the situation under control.
    The three men had each managed to get into a car, but hadn’t had the time to turn the key. They all stood with their hands in the air, as Gallo and the two cops with him had their guns trained on them.
    Macaluso, standing near a dumpster, also had his hands raised. In one hand he had a packet wrapped in newspaper and bound with a piece of string.
    “I’ll take that,”