The Brewer of Preston by Andrea Camilleri Page B

her three-year-old son, who was sleeping in the double bed, took out a key, and handed it to him. Then she began to tremble.
    â€œWhat happened, Lieutenant?”
    â€œDidn’t you hear anything tonight?”
    â€œNo, nothing. We’re practically out in the country here. Yesterday evening we went to bed around seven, right after the Angelus bell. Then this morning my husband got up before daybreak to go out on his
paranza
. But what happened? Don’t try to scare me!”
    She staggered and, to avoid falling, leaned hard on him. Instinctively, Puglisi put his arm around her waist. Upon contact, she strengthened her grip on him. The constable felt slightly dizzy. This woman was very dangerous; he had to get out of there at once.
    â€œLet’s do this. Do you have a neighbor here whom you could ask to watch over the kid?”
    â€œYessir.”
    â€œAll right, then, after you’ve arranged that, come and meet me at your sister’s place. But listen carefully: you mustn’t make any noise or cry out in any way about what you happen to see.”
    â€œBut what is there to see?”
    â€œThere was a fire last night.”
    â€œAll right,” said Agatina, as though resigned.

    Less than ten minutes later, having run all the way back, Pu- glisi was standing again in front of the man he had posted outside the burnt building. The guard gave him a puzzled look.
    â€œWhy, you look rather dirtier and greasier than before, sir.”
    â€œDon’t give me any shit and don’t be a wise guy. Have you heard any voices inside the building?”
    â€œNo. Who would be talking in there? Gnà Nunzia went to her son’s place and the Pizzutos are in the hospital.”
    â€œListen, I’m going up there, to the top floor.”
    â€œWhy? The top floor didn’t burn. If there was anybody there, they’d already be out by now.”
    â€œI didn’t ask you your opinion.”
    The guard fell silent. It was unlike Puglisi to be so rude; it must mean there was something serious afoot.
    â€œIn a short while a woman is supposed to come here. Let her inside, but tell her to keep close to the wall when she climbs the stairs. It’s less dangerous that way.”
    As he was going up, he suddenly started taking three steps at a time, but had to move carefully because the staircase didn’t inspire much confidence.
    The door to the widow’s apartment, once green, was now brown from the smoke. He opened it and entered a small black anteroom, black because everything inside the flat had turned black. Taking a few more steps, he found himself in the bedroom. He couldn’t see a thing; the smell had turned the color of pitch. A shaft of dim light entered the room through the shutters of the French door, which had been left ajar. He went up to it and flung it open. The light burst in, and the first thing he saw were two ebony statues, life-size, on the bed. They represented the naked bodies of a man and a woman, closely entwined.

Late as usual
    â€œL ate as usual, always late,” Angelica Gammacurta hissed at her husband as he sat down beside her after inconveniencing, upon his return from the lobby, the four people between the aisle and his seat.
    The second act had already begun.
    â€œAct Two started some time ago,” Signora Gammacurta declared angrily. “Do you think that’s a civilized way to behave, the way you do?”
    â€œI really don’t give a damn. Anyway, what’s the prefect going to do, call me in for a talk tomorrow, like at school? It’s already a lot for me to have come to this tremendous bore of a theatre. Do the other people in the audience look like they’re paying closer attention than I am?”
    Indeed, the moment he had reentered the auditorium, Dr. Gammacurta thought he was at the fish market the day after the
paranzas’
return, laden with catch. In the orchestra as in the gallery, people were talking