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inspector went into his office, sat down at his desk, and Pasquale appeared.
    “How’s the little boy?”
    “’E’s beautiful and growing.”
    “And your wife?”
    “Good. An’ Miss Livia?”
    “Fine, thanks.”
    The ritual over, Pasquale got down to business.
    “My mama tol’ me—”
    “Right, I need to ask you something. Have a seat.”
    Pasquale sat down.
    “What is it?”
    “Have you by any chance heard anything about these recent burglaries that were pulled off with such skill?”
    Pasquale put on a distracted air, then twisted up his mouth, as if to minimize what he was about to say.
    “Yessir. I’ve heard a couple o’ li’l things.”
    “What kinds of ‘little things’?”
    “Well, you know, the kinds of things people say . . . an’ you just happen to hear . . . in passing . . .”
    “And what did you just happen to hear in passing?”
    “Inspector, if I tell you, iss gotta remain between us, okay?”
    “Of course.”
    “I heard that it wasn’t none of our people.”
    That is, it didn’t involve any thieves from Vigàta.
    “I’d figured that out myself.”
    “These guys are real artists.”
    “Right. Foreigners?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Northerners?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Who, then?”
    “Sicilians, just like me an’ you.”
    “From the province?”
    “Yessir.”
    He was going to have to force it out of him. Pasquale obviously didn’t like discussing the subject with him.
    Being friends was one thing, playing informer was another.
    Anyway, with cops, the less said the better.
    “And why, in your opinion, did they suddenly decide to come and work in Vigàta?”
    Before answering, Pasquale stared at his shoe tops, then looked up at the ceiling, then finally decided to open his mouth.
    “They were called.”
    Called? Pasquale had said it so softly that Montalbano didn’t understand.
    “Speak louder.”
    “They were called.”
    “Explain what you mean.”
    Pasquale threw his hands up.
    “Inspector, alls I heard is they were called directly by someone from here, from Vigàta. An’ he’s their coordinator.”
    “So this gentleman is both their mastermind and manager?”
    “It looks that way.”
    It wasn’t that unusual for a band of thieves to go somewhere on assignment, but he’d never heard of a crew being specifically enlisted for a job.
    “Is he a thief himself?”
    “I don’ think so.”
    Alas. If he wasn’t a professional thief, that complicated matters considerably.
    Who could he be?
    And why did he do it?

3
    “So, what do you make of it, Pasquà?”
    “In what sense, Inspector?”
    “Let’s say, from your perspective.”
    As a thief, that is.
    Pasquale smiled.
    “You seen that pole, Inspector?”
    “What pole?”
    “The one with a magnet at the end, the one they used in the first robbery.”
    “No, I haven’t seen it. Have you?”
    Pasquale’s smile became even more amused.
    “C’mon, Inspector, you still settin’ up these li’l traps for me? If I seen the pole, it means I’m one of the band of thieves.”
    “Sorry, Pasquà, it just escaped me.”
    “Well, I din’t see it either, but somebody tol’ me about it.”
    “What’s it like?”
    “Iss made out of some special kind of wood, light and strong, like bamboo, but it telescopes. You know what I mean? Iss a tool made just for that purpose, so I think you’d wanna keep it to use again.”
    “Yeah, so?”
    “Can you explain to me why they left it there, after the burglary? I woulda taken it with me. If iss like a telescope, iss not even hard to carry.”
    “Did you know they even left behind the keys used in this morning’s burglary?”
    “No, I din’t know. An’ that don’ make no sense to me, neither. A set o’ keys is always useful.”
    “Listen, Pasquà, one last question. These burglars also stole three cars. Did you know?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What did they do with them?”
    “In my opinion, Inspector, they got rid of them and even made some money on