The Fourth Secret by Andrea Camilleri Read Free Book Online

making love to Livia. It was that particular memory that made his blood boil.
    “I know. I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.”
    He opened a drawer, picked up the letter, and threw it on top of Verruso’s.
    “Take it and get out of my face.”
    Verruso didn’t move and didn’t even seem offended.
    “And that’s it?”
    “What else is there?”
    “Forgive me, sir, but I’m not convinced.”
    “And why’s that?”
    “Because it wouldn’t be consistent with your way of doing things. I’ve heard a lot about you, about the way you act and the way you think. And so I’m convinced that you, as soon as you received the letter, didn’t just throw it in a drawer. Actually, while we’re at it …”
    He stopped, leaned forward, picked up the envelope addressed to Montalbano, and handed it to him.
    “Make it disappear. It’s better my superiors don’t know about this whole thing.”
    And that meant that Verruso wanted to put all his cards on the table, without any tricks or traps. The man deserved trust and respect.
    “Thank you,” he said.
    He picked up the envelope and put it back in the drawer.
    “Why don’t you tell me what you found at the construction site?” the marshal said pointedly.
    Montalbano looked at him in admiration.
    “How did you know I went to the construction site?”
    “I was there, too,” Verruso said.

5
    The first thing Montalbano felt when hearing those words was embarrassment, or even shame. Not because he had been caught doing something illegal, but because if he had seen all the mess he had caused, falling head first in the mud. Certainly, the marshal must have laughed his ass off behind his back. Montalbano looked Verruso
in the eyes, but he didn’t see mockery or amusement. The second thing he felt was a sort of somatization, and his shoulder was pierced three times by an acute pain.
    “Did you tail me?”
    “I wouldn’t dare. The thing is that I wanted to take a good look at the construction site, but then I saw your car and …”
    “How did you know it was my car?”
    “Because I had already seen it in Montelusa, when we had that … well, discussion. And I never forget a license plate.”
    He was quite the cop; that much was certain.
    “How come I didn’t see you?”
    “I parked my car outside the fence, on the other end of the construction site. I saw you climb into the shack through the window, and so I hid.”
    “Excuse, but why? You could have come forward, like you did last night, and …”
    “Me?! Last night?!” Verruso said, completely taken by surprise.
    Montalbano recovered immediately.
    “No, I’m sorry, I meant this morning, not last night.”
    “Because I didn’t want to disturb you. I didn’t want to distract you. At one point, I climbed on the hood of your car and looked inside the shack. Pardon the comparison, but you really looked like a dog, a hound following fresh tracks.”
    Somebody knocked on the door. Fazio walked in and stopped at the threshold, speechless. He didn’t know Verruso was there.
    “Good morning,” he said coldly.
    “Good morning,” the marshal replied without enthusiasm.
    “I’ll come back later,” Fazio said.
    “Wait,” Montalbano said. “Bring me that plastic bag I gave you the other day. I want to show it to the marshal.”
    Fazio turned pale as if he had been mortally offended, opened his mouth, closed it, turned around, and disappeared. The inspector told Verruso what needed to be told. It took him ten minutes and Fazio hadn’t returned. Then, finally, they heard a knock at the door, and Fazio appeared with a mortified look on his face. He opened his arms theatrically and shook his head.
    “I can’t find it,” he said. “I looked for it everywhere.”
    And then, turning to the marshal, said: “I’m sorry.”
    “I understand,” Verruso said.
    Montalbano stood up.
    “Let’s go to the other room. I’ll help you look for it. Excuse me, Marshal.”
    As soon as they were outside the office,