Game of Mirrors by Andrea Camilleri Read Free Book Online Page B

children?”
    “Yes, I do. But the only one who really lives here with me is Arturo, ’cause for the past two years Stella’s been going back and forth to Palermo, where she studies at the university.”
    “Well, what I want to know is whether you or either of your children have recently received any threats.”
    Signora Tallarita’s eyes popped open.
    “Wha’d you say?!”
    Montalbano patiently started again.
    “I want to know whether—”
    But Signora Tallarita had heard perfectly well.
    “Threats? Us? What do you mean?”
    “I don’t know, phone calls, anonymous letters . . .”
    “What do you want me to say? I swear to you, in this house I never received no threats or anything else.”
    She thought about this for a second, then suddenly called out so loudly that Montalbano gave a start.
    “Artù!”
    The kid arrived instantly. Perhaps he’d been outside the door, listening.
    “What is it, Ma?”
    “At your store in Montelusa, have you received any threats, like phone calls or anonymous letters?”
    Arturo was also taken aback.
    “Me?! Never! Why would anyone want to do that?”
    Mother and son both looked questioningly at the inspector. Who had already prepared an answer.
    “We’ve received some information that the father of an overdose victim is apparently seeking revenge.”
    The two said nothing. Arturo turned pale.
    “Of course I’ll inform my colleagues in Narcotics, but in the meantime I would advise some discreet police protection. Therefore I’ll need Stella’s Palermo address and the name and address of the store where you work, Arturo.”
    He wrote down the information as they dictated it to him, then said good-bye and left.
    He had, however, achieved several results.
    For example, it had never even crossed the minds of Signora Francesca and Arturo that the bomb might have been intended for them. And Narcotics had not been in touch with them.
    More importantly, why was young Arturo so obviously nervous? Montalbano would have to think about this a little.
         
    “I got lucky,” said Fazio. “Five minutes after you left, Aloisi from Narcotics was passing through and came in to say hello.”
    “Did you ask him about the Tallaritas?”
    “Of course. He was totally in the dark.”
    “He didn’t know anything?”
    “Nothing. According to him there are no negotiations ongoing with Tallarita.”
    “Are you sure it’s not one of those supersecret operations that Narcotics lov—”
    “Nah, he would have given some indication of that.”
    “So what Pasquale told me is just bullshit?”
    “I don’t think he lied to you on purpose,” said Fazio. “It’s possible that somebody who knew about Pasquale’s connection to you told him, knowing he would pass the information on to you sooner or later. To throw you off the trail.”
    “That must be what happened. The Tallaritas meanwhile have no protection and think there’s no way that bomb was intended for them.”
    “You see? It makes sense.”
    “Yes, but I’m not totally convinced by Arturo, the son.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “In my opinion he’s hiding something.”
    “Want me to see if I can dig anything up?”
    “Yes.”
    The inspector took out the piece of paper with the address and looked at it.
    “The clothing store in Montelusa where he works is called All’ultima moda, and it’s on Via Atenea, number 104.”
    “I know the place,” said Fazio.
    Could you imagine him not knowing?

5
    “While you were telling me about Aloisi,” the inspector continued, “I was becoming more and more convinced of something.”
    Fazio pricked up his ears.
    “And what’s that?”
    “Some time ago I happened to see a film by Orson Welles in which there’s a scene that takes place in a room entirely made up of mirrors, where the person can no longer tell where he is and becomes completely disoriented, thinking he’s talking to someone in front of him when the guy is actually behind him. I think these people are trying