Game of Mirrors by Andrea Camilleri

see each other again at nine, not before.”
    “Okay.”
         
    He felt half amused, half annoyed. Amused because he wanted to see how far Liliana would take this dangerous game, and annoyed because she apparently took him for acomplete moron ready to damn himself at the mere sight of her thighs.
    The phone rang, and he went to pick up. It was Nicolò Zito.
    “Salvo, I tried you at the station but they said you were at home and so . . . Am I bothering you?”
    “No, Nicolò. What is it?”
    “I don’t know where to begin . . .”
    “Is it something serious?”
    “I dunno. Listen, I’m going to ask you a question, but I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”
    “I won’t.”
    “If I hadn’t called you right now but, say, three or four hours from now, would I be bothering you?”
    What had got into the guy? What kind of question was that?
    “I probably wouldn’t have answered the phone.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I would have been out. I have to go and see someone.”
    “Male or female?”
    But what did it matter to Zito? Nicolò, however, was too good a friend; there must be something behind this phone call.
    “Female.”
    “Far from Marinella?”
    “No, just a stone’s throw from my house.”
    “Listen, don’t take this the wrong way . . . Just askingyou these questions is making me sweat . . . Is this some sort of . . . well, amorous tryst?”
    “Nicolò, this is where I stop talking. Now it’s your turn.”
    “I have to tell you something I found out by chance from my cameraman . . . He’s friends with another cameraman who works for TeleVigàta, and tonight they were supposed to go out dancing . . . but the guy called my colleague to say he couldn’t make it tonight, because he had to cover an important story, a real scoop, somewhere around Marinella . . .”
    “So?”
    “I don’t know why, but I thought it might concern you . . . You’re the only person living in Marinella who could possibly be of any interest to the folks at TeleVigàta.”
    “Thanks, Nicolò. You’re a real friend.”
    He hung up, feeling a slight bitter taste in his mouth. Part of him believed it, and part of him didn’t. But shouldn’t he probably protect himself regardless?
    He rang Fazio.
    They talked a long time.
    And they came up with a plan.
         
    The gate was closed. She came and opened it, then took care to close it again. She was wearing a dress that looked like the winner of a contest to see which dressmaker could use the least amount of fabric and still make a dress.
    Even though there were no onlookers, she kissed him on the mouth and led him inside, holding him by the hand.
    She was smiling and stepping so lightly she seemed to be flying.
    A picture of true happiness.
    As might be expected, she had set the table on the veranda.
    But there was a lot more light outside than the previous time, which was disturbing.
    Liliana intercepted Montalbano’s glance at the wall sconce and explained.
    “The bulb burned out and all I could find in the house was this hundred-watt bulb.”
    So while we’re eating
, thought the inspector,
the mosquitoes will be eating us
.
    They didn’t sit across from one another. Liliana had put out two chairs side by side.
    “This way I can look out at the sea, too,” she said.
    Not far from shore there was a boat with two fishermen on it. What on earth could they have been fishing for at this hour so close to the beach?
    It was very hot outside.
    The tête-à-tête got off to an unromantic start. As they were looking at each other and smiling, Montalbano suddenly slapped Liliana’s left shoulder, and she immediately followed with a quick cuff to the side of the inspector’s head.
    The first two mosquitoes had fallen on the field of battle, but reinforcements by the thousands were on their way.
    They were barely halfway through the antipasti and Liliana’s bare shoulders and arms were already covered with pink mosquito bites. They