Angelica's Smile Read Online Free

little boy who’d quarreled with a little girl in the playground. How was he going to fix it? He had an idea.
    He got up and went to Catarella’s station.
    “Lemme use your cell phone for a second.”
    Catarella handed it to him, and Montalbano headed to the parking lot, got into his car, started it up, and drove off. When he was in the middle of traffic, he called Livia on the cell phone.
    “Hello, Livia? Salvo here. Catarella told me . . . I’m in the car, so make it quick.”
    “Well, hats off to your Adelina!” Livia began.
    “Why, wha’d she do?”
    “First of all, she suddenly appeared before me when I was naked! She didn’t even knock!”
    “Wait a second, why should she have knocked? She didn’t know you were there, and since she has a set of keys . . .”
    “You always defend her! And do you know what she said the moment she saw me?”
    “No.”
    “She said—or at least this is what it sounded like she said, since she speaks that African dialect of yours (Livia loved to slam his native Sicilian tongue): ‘Oh,
you’re
here? Then I’m leaving. Good-bye.’ And she turned on her heel and left!”
    Montalbano decided to let the business of the “African dialect” slide.
    “Livia, you know perfectly well that Adelina has trouble with you. It’s an old story. Is it possible that every time—”
    “It certainly
is
possible! And I have trouble with her too!”
    “Then can’t you see she was right to leave?”
    “Let’s just drop it, okay? I’m going to take the bus into Vigàta.”
    “What for?”
    “To go shopping. Do you want lunch or not?”
    “Of course I want lunch! But why do you want to go to all the trouble? You came here to have a couple of days off, no?”
    What a stinking hypocrite. The truth of the matter was that Livia didn’t know how to cook, and every time he ate something she’d made, he felt poisoned.
    “So what should we do?”
    “I’ll come by with the car around one and we’ll go to Enzo’s. And in the meantime enjoy the sunshine.”
    “I’ve got all the sun I need at home in Boccadasse.”
    “I don’t doubt that for a minute. But I’ve got a possible solution. Here you could take the sunlight from the front, on your face and tummy, let’s say, and in Boccadasse you could take it from behind, on your back, that is.”
    It had slipped out. He bit his tongue.
    “What’s this nonsense you’re saying?” asked Livia.
    “Nothing. Sorry, I was just trying to be funny. See you later.”
    He went back to his office.

    Fazio came back after about an hour.
    “All taken care of. It took a while. I must say the burglars certainly made out well on this one!”
    “And the one before?”
    “There were fewer valuables there, but totaling up the things they found in both houses, I’d say things went pretty well there, too.”
    “They must have a coordinator who knows what he’s doing.”
    “The brains of the gang isn’t too bad, either.”
    “I’m sure we’ll be hearing from them again. Did you get the list of their friends?”
    “Yes.”
    “This afternoon I want you to start checking them out, one by one.”
    “All right. Oh, and I made a copy for you.”
    He laid a sheet of paper down on the desk.
    “A copy of what?”
    “The list of the Peritores’ friends.”

    After Fazio went out, the inspector decided to ring Adelina.
    “Why dinna you tella me ’atta you girlfrenn was acomin?” the housekeeper attacked him.
    “Because I didn’t know she was coming, either. It was a surprise.”
    “Well, she mekka me a bigga sahprize too! Alla nekkid like a she was!”
    “Listen, Adelì . . .”
    “An’ whenna she gonna go?”
    “Probably in two or three days. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know. Listen, is your son free?”
    “Which one?”
    “Pasquale.”
    Adelina’s two sons, Giuseppe and Pasquale, were two incorrigible hoodlums forever going in and out of prison.
    Pasquale, whom Montalbano had even arrested a few times, was particularly fond