IM11 The Wings of the Sphinx (2009) by Andrea Camilleri Page B

Mirabilis.”
    “Have you got a staff assigned to it?”
    “Yes, a permanent staff. But we also need outside people, temporary workers.”
    “Such as?”
    “Well, doctors, to give one example.”
    “In case the girls get sick?”
    “Not only in case of illness. You see, every new girl who comes here is immediately given a medical examination.”
    “To see if she has any sexually transmitted diseases?”
    Cavaliere Piro did not hide his annoyance at the question. He furrowed his brow, raised his eyes to the heavens, and ran his finger under his nose, all to fine comic effect.
    “That, too, naturally. But mostly to find out if they have healthy and strong constitutions.You know, with the wretched lives they were forced to lead before . . .”
    “Are the doctors paid by you?”
    “No, we have an arrangement with the bishopric, and so—”
    Imagine them ever coughing up a lira!
    “Do you get the medications free as well?”
    “Naturally.”
    Naturally. How could you go wrong?
    “Let’s backtrack a moment. I asked you what the particular needs that you alluded to were.”
    “Well, there are people who want home care, others who want a housekeeper, others a cook. Understand?”
    “Perfectly. Is that all?”
    The cavaliere rubbed his nose.
    “Age and religion are also important.”
    “Anything else?”
    Nose rubbed at the threshold of the speed of sound.
    “What else could they want?”
    “I don’t know . . . hair color . . . eye color . . . length of legs . . . breast measurement . . . waist measurement . . .”
    “Why would they make such requests?”
    “You know, Cavaliere, there might be some old geezer dreaming of a home care assistant who looks like the blue fairy.”
    The cavaliere ran first his right forefinger, then his left, under his nose. Montalbano changed the subject.
    “What’s the average age?”
    “At a rough guess, I’d say twenty-seven, twenty-eight.”
    “But these girls come to you from an entirely different universe. How do they learn to become cooks or housekeepers?”
    Guglielmo Piro looked a little relieved.
    “It doesn’t take them long, you know. They’re very sharp girls. And whenever we notice that one of them has a particular knack for something, we help her, so to speak, to perfect herself . . .”
    “Let me get this straight. Do you hire instructors to teach them how to cook, how to—”
    “What need is there to hire instructors? They learn from our own staff.”
    And that way they also saved on labor costs.
    “Monsignor Pisicchio told me that some girls are brought to your attention by parish priests, others by associations like yours, and others still are directly recruited . . .”
    The cavaliere ran his finger frantically under his nose.
    “Good God, what an ugly word! ‘Recruited’!”
    “Have I said the wrong thing again? Please forgive me, Cavaliere, I have a rather limited vocabulary. How would you yourself describe it?”
    “Bah, I dunno . . . persuaded . . . saved, that’s it.”
    “And how are they persuaded to be saved?”
    “Well, every now and then Masino takes it upon himself and makes the rounds on the nightclub circuit.”
    “That must be an onerous task.”
    Cavaliere Piro didn’t grasp the irony.
    “Yes,” he said.
    “Does he limit himself to Sicilian nightclubs?”
    “Yes.”
    “Does he pay for his, er, entertainment out of his own pocket?”
    “That would be nice! No, he presents us with a list of expenses.”
    “So how does he work?”
    “Well, once he notices a girl a little, how shall I say, different from the others—”
    “Different in what way?”
    “More reserved . . . less open to the sexual advances the clients make at her ...Then Masino approaches her and starts to talk to her. Masino is, how shall I say, rather loquacious.”
    “Loquacious! Thank you for enriching my vocabulary. Does Masino make these rounds every night?”
    “Heavens, no! Only Saturday nights. Otherwise, staying up all hours of the night, his