The Snack Thief (16 page)

The son, however, unfazed by his mothers hysteria,
shook his head.

Do you also want him to die in jail? the inspector
asked him.

No, the boy said decisively. Now that I seen him
calm, he looks nice.

The extras granted Paolo Guido Mandrino, a seventy-
year-old professor of history and geography, now retired,
consisted of a little bath Karima would give him. On one of
the four Saturday mornings when she came, the professor
would wait for her under the bedcovers, naked. When
Karima ordered him to go take his bath, Paolo Guido
would pretend to be very reluctant. And so Karima, yanking
down the sheets, would force the professor to turn over
and would proceed to spank him. When he finally got in
the tub, Karima would carefully cover him with soap and

then wash him. That was all. Price of the extras: one hundred
fifty thousand lire; price of the housecleaning: fifty
thousand lire.

Montalbano? Listen, contrary to what I told you, I cant see

you today. I have a meeting with the prefect.

Just say when, Mr. Commissioner.

Well, its really not very urgent. Anyway, after what Inspector
Augello said on TV

Mim he yelled, as if he were singing La Boh.

Yes. Didnt you know?

No. I was in Maz.

He appeared on the one oclock news. He issued a
firm, blunt denial. He said Ragonese hadnt heard correctly.
The man being sought wasnt a snack thief, but a sneak
thief, a dangerous drug addict who went around with dirty
syringes for protection in case he got caught. Augello offered
apologies for the entire police department. It was very
effective. I think maybe Deputy Pennacchio will calm
down now.

Weve already met, said Vittorio Pandolfo, accountant, as

he entered the office.

Yes, said Montalbano. What do you want?

Rude, and he wasnt just playacting. If Pandolfo was
there to talk about Karima, it meant hed been lying when he
said he didnt know her.

I came because on TV they showed

A photograph of Karima, the woman you said you
knew nothing about. Why didnt you tell me anything
sooner?

Inspector, these are delicate matters, and sometimes one
feels a little embarrassed. You see, at my age

Youre the Thursday-morning client?

Yes.

How much do you pay her to clean house?

Fifty thousand.

And for extras?

One hundred fifty.

Fixed rate. Except that Pandolfo got extras twice a
month. But the person being bathed, in this case, was
Karima. Afterwards, the accountant would lay her down on
the bed and sniff her all over. And now and then, a little lick.

Tell me something, Mr. Pandolfo. Were you, Lapra,
Mandrino, and Finocchiaro her regular playmates?

Yes.

And who was it that first mentioned Karima?

Poor old Lapra.

And what was his financial situation?

Awfully good. He had almost a billion lire in Treasury
bonds, and he also owned his flat and office.

The three afternoon clients on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and
Saturdays lived in Villaseta, all widowers or bachelors getting
on in years. The price was the same as in Vig. The

extra granted Martino Zaccar greengrocer, consisted of
having her kiss the soles of his feet; with Luigi Pignataro,
retired middle-school headmaster, Karima would play
blindmans buff. The headmaster would strip her naked,
blindfold her, then go and hide somewhere. Karima would
then look for him and find him, after which she would sit
down in a chair, take the principal in her lap, and suckle
him. When Montalbano asked Calogero Pipitone, an expert
agronomist, what his extras were, the man looked at him,
dumbfounded.

What do you think they were, Inspector? Me on top
and her on the bottom.

Montalbano felt like embracing him.

Since on Mondays,Wednesdays, and Fridays Karima was employed
full-time at Lapras, there wouldnt be any more
clients. Oddly enough, Karima rested on Sundays, not Fridays.
Apparently shed adapted to local customs. Montalbano
was curious to know how much she earned per month; but
since he was hopeless with numbers, he opened the door to
his office and asked in a loud voice:

Anybody got a calculator?

Me, Chief.

Catarella came in and pulled a calculator not much bigger
than a calling card out of his pocket.

What do you calculate on that, Cat?

The days, was his enigmatic reply.

Come back for it in a little bit.

I should warrant you the machine works by ammuttuna.

What do you mean?

Catarella mistakenly thought his superior didnt understand
the last word. He stepped toward the door and called out:

How you say ammuttuna in Italian?

Shove, somebody translated.

And how am I supposed to shove this calculator?

Same way you shove a watch when it dont run.

Anyway, figuring Lapra separately, Karima earned one
million two hundred thousand per month as a housekeeper,
to which was added another million two hundred thousand
for extras. At the very least, for full-time service, Lapra
slipped her another million. Which comes to three million
four hundred thousand lire monthly, tax-free. Forty-four
million two hundred thousand annually.

Karima, from what they could gather, had been working
in the area for at least four years, so that made one hundred
seventy-six million eight hundred thousand lire.

What about the other three hundred twenty-four million
that was in the bank book? Where had that come from?

The calculator had worked fine; there was no need of
ammuttuna.

A burst of applause rang out from the other rooms. What was
going on? He opened his door and discovered that the man
of the hour was Mimugello. He started foaming at the
mouth.

Knock it off ! Clowns!
They looked at him in shock and horror. Only Fazio at

tempted to explain the situation.
Maybe you dont know, Chief, but Inspector Augello
I already know! The commissioner called me person

ally, demanding an explanation. Mr. Augello, of his own initiative,
without my authorizationas I made certain to
emphasize to the commissionerwent on TV and spoke a
pile of bullshit!

Uh, if I may, Augello ventured.
No, you may not! You told a pack of lies!
I did it to protect all of us here, who
You cant defend yourself by lying to someone who

spoke the truth!

And he went back into his office, slamming the door
behind him. Montalbano, man of ironclad morals, was in a
murderous rage at the sight of Augello basking in applause.

May I come in? asked Fazio, opening the door and cautiously
sticking his head inside. Father Jannuzzos here and
wants to talk to you.

Let him in.

Don Alfio Jannuzzo, who never dressed like a priest, was
well known in Vig for his charitable initiatives. A tall, robust
man, he was about forty years old.

I like to cycle, he began.

I dont, said Montalbano, terrified at the thought that
the priest might want him to participate in some sort of
charity race.

I saw that womans photo on television.

The two things seemed in no way connected, and the inspector
began to feel uncomfortable. Might this mean that
Karima did work on Sundays after all, and that her client was
none other than Don Jannuzzo?

Last Thursday, around nine oclock in the morning, give
or take fifteen minutes, I was near Villaseta, cycling down
from Montelusa to Vig. On the other side of the road, a
car was stopped.

Do you remember the make?

Yes, it was a BMW, metallic gray in color.

Montalbano pricked up his ears.

A man and a woman were inside the car. It looked like
they were kissing, but when I passed right beside them, the
woman broke free sort of violently, then looked at me and
opened her mouth as if to say something. But the man pulled
her back by force and embraced her again. I didnt like the
look of it.

Why?

Because it wasnt just a lovers quarrel. The womans
eyes, when she looked at me, were full of fear. It seemed as if
she was asking for help.

And what did you do?

Nothing, because the car left almost immediately. But
when I saw the photograph on television today, I knew it was

the woman Id seen in the car, I could swear to it. Im very
good with faces, Inspector, and when I see a face, even for
only a second, its forever etched in my memory.

Fahrid, pseudo-nephew of Lapra, and Karima.

Im very grateful to you, Father...

The priest raised a hand to stop him.

I havent finished yet. I took down the license-plate
number. As I said, I didnt like what Id seen.

Do you have the number with you?

Of course.

From his pocket he extracted a notebook page neatly
folded in four and held it out to the inspector.

Its written down here.

Montalbano took it between two fingers, delicately, as
one does with the wings of a butterfly.

am 237 gw.

In American movies, the policeman had only to tell somebody
the license-plate number, and in less than two minutes,
he would know the owners name, how many children he
had, the color of his hair, and the number of hairs on his ass.

In Italy, things were different. One time they made
Montalbano wait twenty-eight days, in the course of which
the owner of the vehicle (as they later wrote to him) was
goat-tied and burnt to a crisp. By the time the answer arrived,
it had all come to nothing.

His only choice was to turn to the commissioner, who
by now had perhaps ended his meeting with the prefect.

Montalbano here, Commissioner.
I just got back in the office. What is it?
Im calling about that woman who was kidnapped
What woman who was kidnapped?
You know, Karima.
Whos that?
To his horror he realized he was talking to the wind. He

hadnt yet said an intelligible word to the commissioner

about the case.
Mr. Commissioner, Im simply mortified
Never mind. What did you want?
I need to have a license-plate number traced as quickly

as possible, and I want the owners name and address.
Give me the number.
am 237 gw.
Ill have something for you by tomorrow morning.

13

I set a place for you in the kitchen. The dining room table is
being used. Weve already eaten.

He wasnt blind. He couldnt help but see that the table
was covered by a giant jigsaw puzzle of the Statue of Liberty,
practically life-size.

And you know what, Salvo? It took him only two
hours to solve it.

She didnt say whom, but it was clear she was talking
about Frans, former snack thief, now family genius.

Did you buy it for him yourself ?

Livia dodged the question.

Want to come down to the beach with me?

Right now or after Ive eaten?

Right now.

There was a sliver of moon shedding its light. They walked
in silence. In front of a little pile of sand, Livia sighed sadly.

You should have seen the castle he made! It was fantastic!
It looked like Gaud

Hell have time to make another.

He was determined not to give up. Like a cop, and a jealous
one at that.

What store did you find the puzzle in?

I didnt buy it myself. Mimame by this afternoon, just
for a second. The puzzle belongs to a nephew of his who

He turned his back to Livia, thrust his hands in his pockets,
and walked away, imagining dozens of Mim nephews
and nieces in tears, systematically despoiled of their toys by
their uncle.

Come on, Salvo, stop acting like a jerk! said Livia, running
up to him.

She tried to slip her arm in his; Montalbano pulled away.

Fuck you, Livia said calmly, and she went back to the
house.

What was he going to do now? Livia had avoided the
quarrel, and he would have to get it out of his system on his
own. He walked irritably along the waters edge, soaking his
shoes and smoking ten cigarettes.

Im such a fucking idiot! he said to himself at a certain
point. Its obvious that Mimikes Livia and Livias fond of
MimBut, this aside, Im only giving Mimrist for his mill. Its
clear he enjoys pissing me off. Hes waging a war of attrition against
me, as I do against him. I have to plan a counteroffensive.

He went home. Livia was sitting in front of the television,
which she had turned down very low in order not to
wake Frans, who was sleeping in their bed.

Im sorry, seriously, he said to her as he walked past her
on his way to the kitchen.

In the oven he found a casserole of mullet and potatoes
that smelled inviting. He sat down and tasted his first bite:
exquisite. Livia came up behind him and stroked his hair.

Do you like it?
Excellent. I must tell Adelina
Adelina came this morning, saw me, said I don wanna

disturb, turned around, and left.
Are you telling me you made this casserole yourself ?
Of course.
For an instant, but only an instant, the casserole went

down the wrong way when a thought popped into his head:
that shed made it only to win forgiveness for this business
with MimBut then the deliciousness of the dish prevailed.

Before sitting down beside Montalbano to watch television,
Livia stopped a moment to admire the jigsaw puzzle. Now
that Salvo had calmed down, she could freely talk about it.

You should have seen how fast he put it together. It was

stunning. You or I would have taken longer.
Or we would have got bored first.
But thats just it. Frans also thinks puzzles are boring,

because they have fixed rules. Every little piece, he says, is cut
so that it will fit with another. Whereas it would be more fun
if there were a puzzle with many different solutions!

He said that?
Yes. And he explained it better, since I was drawing it

out of him.
And what did he say?
I think I understood what he meant. He was already fa