IM10 August Heat (2008)

Table of Contents

 

 

“The idiosyncratic Montalbano is totally endearing.”

—
The New York Times

 

“Camilleri is as crafty and charming a writer as his protagonist is an investigator.”—
The Washington Post

 

“Like Mike Hammer or Sam Spade, Montalbano is the kind of guy who can’t stay out of trouble.... Still, deftly and lovingly translated by Stephen Sartarelli, Camilleri makes it abundantly clear that under the gruff, sardonic exterior our inspector has a heart of gold, and that any outbursts, fumbles, or threats are made only in the name of pursuing truth.”—
The Nation

 

“Once again, violence is muted, complications rule, politics roil, but humor . . . prevail[s] in the end. Italy is good to visit, even if only in print. And what better way to shorten a flight to Palermo than by gobbling this tasty snack along the way?”—
Los Angeles Times

 

“[Camilleri’s mysteries] offer quirky characters, crisp dialogue, bright storytelling—and Salvo Montalbano, one of the most engaging protagonists in detective fiction. . . . Montalbano is a delightful creation, an honest man on Sicily’s mean streets.”—
USA Today

 

“The Montalbano mysteries offer
cose dolci
to the world-lit lover hankering for a whodunit.”—
The Village Voice

 

“The reading of these little gems is fast and fun every step of the way.”—
The New York Sun

 

“Wittily translated from the savory Italian, Camilleri’s mysteries . . . feature the sardonic Inspector Salvo Montalbano, whose gustatory adventures are at least as much fun as his crime solving.”

—
Rocky Mountain News

 

“In Sicily, where people do things as they please, Inspector Montalbano is a bona fide folk hero.”—
The New York Times Book Review

The Shape of Water
The Terra-Cotta Dog
The Snack Thief
Voice of the Violin
Excursion to Tindari
The Smell of the Night
Rounding the Mark
The Patience of the Spider
Paper Moon

A PENGUIN MYSTERY

AUGUST HEAT

 

Andrea Camilleri is the author of many books, including his Montalbano series, which has been adapted for Italian television and translated into nine languages. He lives in Rome.

 

Stephen Sartarelli is an award-winning translator and the author of three books of poetry, most recently
The Open Vault
.

PENGUIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
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Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

 

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

First published in Penguin Books 2009

Translation copyright © Stephen Sartarelli, 2009

All rights reserved

 

Originally published in Italian as
La vampa d’agosto
by Sellerio Editore, Palermo.
Copyright © 2006 Sellerio Editore.

 

Publisher’s Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING IN PUBLICATION DATA
Camilleri, Andrea.
[Vampa d’agosto. English]
August heat / Andrea Camilleri; translated by Stephen Sartarelli.
p. cm.—(A Penguin mystery original)

eISBN : 978-1-440-69898-9

I. Sartarelli, Stephen,—. II.Title.
PQ4863.A3894V3613 2009
853’.914—dc22 2008029438

 

 

 

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means
without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only
authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy
of copyrighted materials.Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

1

He was sleeping so soundly that not even cannon fire could have woken him.Well, maybe not cannon fire, but the ringing of the telephone, yes.

Nowadays, if a man living in a civilized country (ha!) hears cannon blasts in his sleep, he will, of course, mistake them for thunderclaps, gun salutes on the feast day of the local patron saint, or furniture being moved by the slime-buckets living upstairs, and go right on sleeping soundly. But the ringing of the telephone, the triumphal march of the cell phone, or the doorbell, no: Those are all sounds of summons in response to which the civilized man (ha-ha!) has no choice but to surface from the depths of slumber and answer.

And so Montalbano got up out of bed, glanced at the clock, looked over at the window, gathered that it was going to be a very hot day, and went into the dining room, where the telephone was ringing wildly.

“Salvo! Where were you? I’ve been trying to call for half an hour!”

“I’m sorry, Livia, I was in the shower, I couldn’t hear.”

First lie of the day.

Why did he say it? Because he was ashamed to tell Livia he was still asleep? Or because he didn’t want to embarrass her by telling her she’d woken him up? Who knows?

“Did you go look at the house?”

“Livia! It’s barely eight o’clock!”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so impatient to know if it’s all right . . .”

The whole business had started about two weeks before, when he’d had to tell Livia that, contrary to plan, he would not be able to leave Vigàta for the first half of August because Mimì Augello had been forced to take his vacation earlier than expected due to complications with his in-laws. But the change had not produced the calamitous results he had feared. Livia was very fond of Beba, Mimì’s wife, and of Mimì himself. She had complained a little, of course, but Montalbano thought that would be the end of it. He was wrong. Way off the mark, in fact. The following evening, Livia had called back with a surprise request.

“I’m looking for a house, right away, two bedrooms with living room, by the sea, in your area.”

“I don’t understand. Why can’t we just stay at my place in Marinella?”

“You can be so stupid, Salvo, when you put your mind to it! I meant a house for Laura, her husband, and their little boy.”

Laura was Livia’s dearest friend, the one to whom she confided her Joyful and not-so-Joyful Mysteries.

“They’re coming here?”

“Yes. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I think Laura and her husband are very nice, you know that. It’s just that . . .”

“It’s just what?”

Geez, what a pain!

“I was hoping we could finally spend a little more time together, just the two of us, alone—”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

A laugh rather like that of the witch in
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
.

“What’s so funny?”

“What’s so funny is that you know damn well the only one who’s going to be alone is me—me and nobody else—while you’re spending your days and maybe even your nights at the station working on the murder of the week!”

“Come on, Livia, it’s August.With this kind of heat, even the killers wait until autumn down here.”

“Is that some kind of joke? Am I supposed to laugh?”

And thus began the long search for a house, with the help—inconclusive—of Catarella.

“Chief, I tink I gotta place like you’s lookin for, out by Pezzodipane.”

“But Pezzodipane’s six miles from the sea!”

“Iss true, but to make up for it, there’s a artifishy lake.”

Or:

“Livia, I found a lovely little apartment in a sort of condo near—”

“A
little
apartment? I think I told you clearly, I want a house.”

“Well, an apartment’s a house, isn’t it? What is it, a tent?”

“No, an apartment is not a house. It’s you Sicilians who confuse the matter by calling an apartment a house, whereas when I say house, I mean house. You want me to be more specific? I want you to find a freestanding, single-family residence.”