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and the inspector instinctively poked his head inside. He was sure it was the wrong room, and so he knocked on the next door down.
    “Come in.”
    He opened the door and went in. The officer sitting behind the desk stood up. Montalbano realized he’d got the wrong room again. The man had the rank of captain.
    “I was looking for Lieutenant Belladonna.”
    “It’s the door right before this one.”
    So he hadn’t been mistaken after all. Lieutenant Belladonna was a woman.
    “May I come in? I’m Inspector—”
    “Please come in and sit down,” she said, getting up to greet him.
    The lieutenant not only lived up to her surname, she exceeded it. She wasn’t only beautiful; she was a knockout. For a brief moment, Montalbano was speechless. She was a good six inches taller than him, dark, with bright, sparkling eyes, red lips in no need of lipstick, and, above all, a very pleasant manner.
    “I’m entirely at your disposal,” she said.
    I wish!
thought the inspector.
    “I’m not sure if you’re aware of the corpse that was found by the people on a yacht sailing—”
    “I know the whole story.”
    “There’s one thing I’d like to know. When a craft wants to call at our port, does it have to give you advance notice of its arrival?”
    “Of course.”
    “And its time of arrival?”
    “Especially.”
    “Why?”
    “For any number of reasons: ships maneuvering inside the harbor, lack of berths, availability of navigation officers . . .”
    “I see. If it’s not too much trouble for you, could you tell me how far in advance the
Vanna
notified you that she would be calling at port here?”
    “Yes, I can. Come with me.”
    Following behind her, Montalbano was spellbound by the undulating motion her skirt made as she walked. They came to a vending machine.
    “Would you like some coffee?”
    “I’d love some.”
    Montalbano let her work the machine. He was utterly inept at such things. He always pushed the wrong buttons, and instead of coffee he got plastic-wrapped sandwiches, ice- cream cones, or candies. The coffee was good.
    “Please wait for me here,” she said.
    The lieutenant opened a door over which there was a sign saying AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY and went inside. She returned five minutes later.
    “Actually, the
Vanna
wasn’t expected,” she said. “They contacted us at six o’clock yesterday morning, saying they were forced to head for our harbor because of the terrible weather conditions.”
    This was the confirmation he had wanted of the concern that had come into his mind before falling asleep. How did the girl who called herself Vanna know that the yacht was supposed to arrive that morning? She must have been informed very early that same morning. Had she received this information from someone at the Harbor Office, or from the yacht itself?
    Montalbano thanked the woman and took his leave.
    “I’ll come downstairs with you,” she said. “I’d like to have a cigarette outside.”
    They smoked their cigarettes together. She said her name was Laura. And since they hit it off well, they each smoked a second cigarette while telling each other a few things about themselves. When they said goodbye, it was clear that they would have liked to smoke another ten cigarettes together.

4
    Getting out of the car, he saw two workmen on the roof of the police station. As he watched them, he felt suddenly worried.
    “Get me Fazio,” he said to Catarella, going in.
    His office had been cleaned, but the ceiling was covered with damp spots. Once they dried, they would have to be painted over. He also noticed with some satisfaction that there wasn’t a single document to be signed on his desk.
    “Good morning, Chief.”
    “Listen, Fazio, what sort of protection do these roofers have? I wouldn’t want our police station to contribute to the increase in work-related murders.”
    For years that’s what he’d been calling them,
murders
, not work-related deaths, because he was more than convinced