Read IM10 August Heat (2008) for Free Online Page B

after a day like today.”
    Guido was a little less enthusiastic, given that halfway through their walk, Bruno had suddenly become very sleepy, and he’d had to carry him in his arms the rest of the way.
    Ever since he’d sat back down in the deck chair after visiting the phantom apartment with Livia, Montalbano had been beset with a dilemma worse than Hamlet’s: to tell or not to tell?
    If he did tell them there was a corpse downstairs, indescribable chaos would break out and the rest of the night would be hell, or almost. It was more than certain, in fact, that Laura would adamantly refuse to spend one minute more under the same roof as an unknown corpse and demand to sleep somewhere else.
    But where? At Marinella there wasn’t even a guest room. They would have to camp out.And how would they do that? He imagined how they would work things out, with Laura, Livia, and Bruno in the double bed, Guido on the sofa, and himself in the armchair. He shuddered.
    No, that was no solution. Better a hotel. But where, at midnight, inVigàta, were they going to find a hotel still open? Maybe Montelusa was a better bet. Which would mean phone call after phone call, back and forth in the car, to and from Montelusa, to keep their friends company, and, as icing on the cake, the inevitable all-night argument with Livia.
    “But why did you have to choose that house?”
    “Livia, darling, how was I to know there was a dead body in it?”
    “How were you to know? What kind of policeman are you anyway?”
    No, he decided, it was better, for now, to say nothing to anyone.
    After all, God only knew how long the corpse had been in that trunk. One day more or one day less wasn’t going to make any difference. Nor would it affect the investigation in any way.
    Having said good-bye to their friends, then, Livia and the inspector headed back to Marinella.
    The moment Livia went to take a shower, Montalbano, from the terrace, called Fazio on the cell phone, keeping his voice down.
    “Fazio? Montalbano here.”
    “What’s wrong, Chief?”
    “I haven’t got time to explain. In ten minutes, I want you to call me back at home and say you urgently need me to come in to the station.”
    “Why, what’s happened?”
    “Don’t ask questions. Just do as I say.”
    “Then what do I do afterward?”
    “You hang up and go back to sleep.”
    Five minutes later Livia emerged from the bathroom and Montalbano went in. As he was brushing his teeth, he heard the telephone ring. As expected, Livia went to pick up. This would make the whole scene he had staged more credible.
    “Salvo, it’s Fazio on the phone!”
    He went into the dining room with his toothbrush still in his mouth, lips frothing with toothpaste, muttering to himself for Livia’s benefit, as she glared at him:
    “Can’t anyone get a little peace and quiet around here, even at this hour?”
    He grabbed the phone gruffly:
    “What is it?”
    “You’re needed down at the station at once.”
    “Can’t you guys handle it yourselves? No? Okay, okay, I’ll be right there.”
    He slammed the receiver down hard, feigning anger:
    “Won’t those guys ever grow up? Do they always need Daddy’s help? I’m sorry, Livia, but, unfortunately I—”
    “I understand,” said Livia in a tone straight from the polar ice caps. “I’m going to bed.”
    “Will you wait up for me?”
    “No.”
    He got dressed, went out, got in the car, and headed to Marina di Montereale.
    He drove extremely slowly, because he wanted to waste as much time as possible, to be more or less certain that Laura and Guido had gone to bed.
    When he got to Pizzo, he went as far as the second house—the uninhabited but well-maintained one—stopped, and got out, bringing the flashlight with him. He traveled the remaining stretch of the dirt road on foot, afraid that if he came any closer with the car, the sound, in the stillness of the night, might wake up his friends.
    No light shone in any of the windows, a good sign