sheet. They remained that way for a few moments, not saying anything, each enjoying the other’s warmth. Then Fazio spoke.
“I still don’t remember too good.”
“You can tell me everything when it all comes back to you. There’s no hurry.”
But Fazio wasn’t ready to give up.
“Some guy I used to know started callin’ me on the phone . . . used to be a ballet dancer when he was young . . . We went to elementary school together . . .”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t remember . . .”
A sort of flash went off in Montalbano’s head. He hesitated a moment, then blurted out a name at random.
“Manzella?”
The inspector clearly saw Fazio give a start in surprise.
“Yes, sir! That’s him! Damn, are you good, Chief!”
“And what did he want from you?”
Fazio closed his eyes. It was like a signal, because at that moment the door opened and the dwarf came in.
“Conversation’s over.”
Not even in Sing-Sing could the prison guards be so severe and ball-busting.
“Are you sure your watch is right?” the inspector asked.
“Down to the split second. Out!”
He got up and started walking ever so slowly on purpose, just to anger the nurse. When he was in front of her, he asked:
“When can I come back?”
“Visitors are allowed every afternoon from four to seven P.M .”
“And how much time will you give me?
“Another five minutes.”
“Could we make that ten?”
“Seven.”
Oh, well, better than nothing.
Signora Fazio was out in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
“Couldn’t you ask them to give you a chair?”
“It’s not allowed. But I’m going back in now. Did you manage to talk a little with him?”
“Yes, but not much. He seemed very weak.”
“The doctors say there’s nothing to worry about, that he’s getting better by the hour. When are you coming back?”
“This afternoon at four.”
When he reached the end of the corridor, he had a choice between going right or left. He stopped, doubtful. Which direction had he come from? He thought he remembered arriving from the left. So he went down that corridor, which not only was endless, but every single door on the ward was closed. Halfway down, he saw an elevator. Should he take it or not? He had no choice, since the architect who’d built the hospital had forgotten to put any staircases in it. The doors opened, he went in and immediately noticed that the panel of buttons was missing the letter
T
, which meant ground floor. There were only three numbers, in fact: 4, 5, and 6. It must have been a service elevator that went only to those three floors. Meanwhile the door had closed again, and so he pressed button 5. His heart sank at the thought that he would have to struggle again before he found the way out. The elevator stopped, the door opened, and before him stood the same nurse who had shown him the way to Fazio’s room. She must have understood right away that he was lost again, and Montalbano had to suppress the urge to embrace her.
“Tell me frankly: are you my guardian angel?” he asked her, stepping out of the elevator.
“Certainly not, but I’ll do my best to help anyway.”
“Would you show me to the exit?”
“The best I can do is to show you to the right elevator.”
“Thank you. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking, if I may?”
“Angela.”
“You see? I was right.”
“And you?”
“Salvo. Salvo Montalbano. I’m a police inspector.”
“Oh, great!”
“Why do you say that?”
“A police inspector getting lost inside a hospital?”
“It happens to me all the time. Listen, Angela, I have to come back this afternoon at four o’clock. Will you still be here?”
“Yes.”
“Could you do me a favor?”
“That depends.”
“Could you wait for me at the entrance?”
“Is this a date?”
“No, just a desperate cry for help.”
Angela started laughing, and didn’t say yes or no.
“How’s Fazio?” Gallo asked as the inspector was getting
“I still don’t remember too good.”
“You can tell me everything when it all comes back to you. There’s no hurry.”
But Fazio wasn’t ready to give up.
“Some guy I used to know started callin’ me on the phone . . . used to be a ballet dancer when he was young . . . We went to elementary school together . . .”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t remember . . .”
A sort of flash went off in Montalbano’s head. He hesitated a moment, then blurted out a name at random.
“Manzella?”
The inspector clearly saw Fazio give a start in surprise.
“Yes, sir! That’s him! Damn, are you good, Chief!”
“And what did he want from you?”
Fazio closed his eyes. It was like a signal, because at that moment the door opened and the dwarf came in.
“Conversation’s over.”
Not even in Sing-Sing could the prison guards be so severe and ball-busting.
“Are you sure your watch is right?” the inspector asked.
“Down to the split second. Out!”
He got up and started walking ever so slowly on purpose, just to anger the nurse. When he was in front of her, he asked:
“When can I come back?”
“Visitors are allowed every afternoon from four to seven P.M .”
“And how much time will you give me?
“Another five minutes.”
“Could we make that ten?”
“Seven.”
Oh, well, better than nothing.
Signora Fazio was out in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
“Couldn’t you ask them to give you a chair?”
“It’s not allowed. But I’m going back in now. Did you manage to talk a little with him?”
“Yes, but not much. He seemed very weak.”
“The doctors say there’s nothing to worry about, that he’s getting better by the hour. When are you coming back?”
“This afternoon at four.”
When he reached the end of the corridor, he had a choice between going right or left. He stopped, doubtful. Which direction had he come from? He thought he remembered arriving from the left. So he went down that corridor, which not only was endless, but every single door on the ward was closed. Halfway down, he saw an elevator. Should he take it or not? He had no choice, since the architect who’d built the hospital had forgotten to put any staircases in it. The doors opened, he went in and immediately noticed that the panel of buttons was missing the letter
T
, which meant ground floor. There were only three numbers, in fact: 4, 5, and 6. It must have been a service elevator that went only to those three floors. Meanwhile the door had closed again, and so he pressed button 5. His heart sank at the thought that he would have to struggle again before he found the way out. The elevator stopped, the door opened, and before him stood the same nurse who had shown him the way to Fazio’s room. She must have understood right away that he was lost again, and Montalbano had to suppress the urge to embrace her.
“Tell me frankly: are you my guardian angel?” he asked her, stepping out of the elevator.
“Certainly not, but I’ll do my best to help anyway.”
“Would you show me to the exit?”
“The best I can do is to show you to the right elevator.”
“Thank you. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking, if I may?”
“Angela.”
“You see? I was right.”
“And you?”
“Salvo. Salvo Montalbano. I’m a police inspector.”
“Oh, great!”
“Why do you say that?”
“A police inspector getting lost inside a hospital?”
“It happens to me all the time. Listen, Angela, I have to come back this afternoon at four o’clock. Will you still be here?”
“Yes.”
“Could you do me a favor?”
“That depends.”
“Could you wait for me at the entrance?”
“Is this a date?”
“No, just a desperate cry for help.”
Angela started laughing, and didn’t say yes or no.
“How’s Fazio?” Gallo asked as the inspector was getting
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