The Snack Thief (2 page)

How come theres nobody around? Where are all the
nosy neighbors? Fazio asked in amazement.

I sent them all home. They do what I say around here. I
live on the sixth floor, the security guard said proudly, adjusting
the jacket of his uniform.

Montalbano wondered how much authority Giuseppe
Cosentino would have if he lived in the basement.

The dead Mr. Lapra was sitting on the floor of the elevator,
shoulders propped against the rear wall. Next to his
right hand was a bottle of Corvo white, still corked and sealed.
Next to his left hand, a light gray hat. Dressed to the nines,
necktie and all, the late Mr. Lapra was a distinguished-
looking man of about sixty, with eyes open in a look of astonishment,
perhaps for having pissed his pants. Montalbano bent
down and with the tip of his forefinger touched the dark stain
between the dead mans legs. It wasnt piss, but blood. The elevator
was one of those set inside the wall, so there was no way
to look behind the corpse to see if the man had been stabbed

or shot. He took a deep breath and didnt smell any gunpow

der, though it was possible it had already dissipated.

They needed to alert the coroner.

You think Dr. Pasquano is still at the port or would he
already be back in Montelusa by now?

Probably still at the port.

Go give him a ring. And if Jacomuzzi and the forensics
gang are there, tell them to come too.

Fazio raced out. Montalbano turned to the security
guard, who, sensing he was about to be addressed, came to attention.

At ease, Montalbano said wearily.

The inspector learned that the building had six floors,
with three apartments per floor, all inhabited.

I live on the sixth floor, the top floor, Giuseppe
Cosentino felt compelled to reaffirm.

Was Mr. Lapra married?

Yessir. To Antonietta Palmisano.

Did you send the widow home too?

No sir. She doesnt know shes a widow yet, sir. She
went out early this morning to visit her sister in Fiacca, seeing
as how this sisters not in good health. She took the six-
thirty bus.

Excuse me, but how do you know all these things?

Did living on the sixth floor grant him that power too?
Did they all have to tell him what they were doing and why?

Mrs. Palmisano Lapra told my wife yesterday, the
security guard explained. Seeing as how the two women
talk to each other and all.

Do the Lapras have any children?
One son. Hes a doctor. But he lives a long way from

Vig.
What was Lapras profession?
Businessman. Had his office in Salita Granet, number

1. But in the last few years, he only went there three times a
   week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, seeing as how he
   didnt feel much like working anymore. He had some money
   stashed away, didnt have to depend on anyone.
   

You are a gold mine, Mr. Cosentino.
The security guard sprang back to attention.
At that moment, a woman of about fifty appeared, with

legs like tree trunks. Her hands were loaded with plastic bags
filled to bursting.
I went shopping! she declared with a surly glance at

the inspector and the security guard.
Im glad, said Montalbano.
Well Im not, all right? Because now I have to climb up

six flights of stairs. When are you going to take the body
away?
And, glaring again at the two men, she began her difficult
ascent, snorting like an enraged bull.

A terrible woman, Mr. Inspector. Her name is Gaetana
Pinna. She lives in the apartment next to mine, and not a day
goes by without her trying to start an argument with my
wife, who, since shes a real lady, wont give her the satisfaction.
And so the woman gets even by making a horrible
racket, especially when Im trying to catch up on my sleep
after my long shift.

The handle of the knife stuck between Mr. Lapras shoulder
blades was worn. A common kitchen utensil.

When did they kill him, in your opinion? the inspector
asked Dr. Pasquano.

To make a rough guess, Id say between seven and eight
oclock this morning. Ill be able to tell you more precisely a
little later.

Jacomuzzi arrived with his men from the crime lab, and
they began their intricate search.

Montalbano stepped out of the buildings main door. It
was windy, the sky still overcast. The street was a very short
one, with only two shops, one opposite the other. On the
left-hand side of the street was a greengrocer, behind whose
counter sat a very thin man with thick glasses. One of the
lenses was cracked.

Hello, Im Inspector Montalbano. This morning, did
you by any chance see Mr. Lapra come in or go out the
front door of his building?

The thin man chuckled and said nothing.

Did you hear my question? asked the inspector,
slightly miffed.

Oh, I heard you all right, the grocer said. But as for
seeing, I cant help you much there. I couldnt even see a
tank if one came through that door.

On the right-hand side of the street was a fishmongers
shop, with two customers inside. The inspector waited for
them to come out, then entered.

Hello, Lollo.

Hello, Inspector. Ive got some really fresh striped
bream today.

Im not here to buy fish, Lollo.

Youre here about the death.

Yeah.

Howd Lapra die?

A knife in the back.

Lollo looked at him openmouthed.

Lapra was murdered?!

Why so surprised?

Who would have wished Mr. Lapra any harm? He
was a good man, Mr. Lapra. Unbelievable!

Did you see him this morning?

No.

What time did you open up?

Six-thirty. Ah, but I did run into his wife, Antonietta,
on the corner. She was in a rush.

She was running to catch the bus for Fiacca.

In all likelihood, Montalbano concluded, Lapra was
killed in the elevator, as he was about to go out. He lived on
the fourth floor.

Dr. Pasquano took the body to Montelusa for the autopsy.
Meanwhile, Jacomuzzi wasted a little more time filling three
small plastic bags with a cigarette butt, a bit of dust, and a tiny
piece of wood.

Ill keep you posted.

Montalbano went into the elevator and signaled to the
security guard, who had not moved an inch all the while, to
come along with him. Cosentino seemed hesitant.

Whats wrong?
Theres still blood on the floor.
So what? Just be careful not to get it on your shoes.

Would you rather climb six flights of stairs?

2

Come in, come in, said a cheerful Signora Cosentino, an
irresistibly likable balloon with a mustache.

Montalbano entered a living room with the dining room
attached. The housewife turned to her husband with a look
of concern.

You werent able to rest, Pep
Duty. And when duty calls, duty calls.
Did you go out this morning, signora?
I never go out before Pepomes home.
Do you know Mrs. Lapra?
Yes. We chat a little, now and then, when were waiting

for the elevator together.
Did you also chat with the husband?
No, I didnt care much for him. A good man, no doubt

about that, but I just didnt like him. If youll excuse me a
minute...
She left the room. Montalbano turned to the security

guard.
Where do you work?
At the salt depot. From eight in the evening to eight in

the morning.

It was you who discovered the body, correct?
Yes, sir. It mustve been about ten after eight at the latest.

The depots just around the corner. I called the elevator
It wasnt on the ground floor?
No, it wasnt. I distinctly remember calling it.
And of course you dont know what floor it was on.
Ive thought about that, Inspector. Based on the amount

of time it took to arrive, Id say it was on the fifth floor. I

think I calculated right.
It didnt add up. All decked out, Mr. Lapra...
What was his first name, by the way?
Aurelio, but he went by Arelio.

...instead of taking the elevator down, took it up one
floor. The gray hat meant he was about to go outside, not to
visit someone inside the building.

What did you do next?
Nothing. Seeing that the elevator had arrived, I opened

the door and saw the dead body.
Did you touch it?
Are you kidding? Ive got experience with that sort of

thing.
How did you know the man was dead?
As I said, I have experience. So I ran to the grocers and

called you, the police. Then I went and stood guard in front

of the elevator.
Mrs. Cosentino came in with a steaming cup.
Would you like a little coffee?
Montalbano accepted and emptied the demitasse. Then

he rose to leave.

Wait a minute, said the security guard, opening a
drawer and handing him a writing pad and ballpoint pen.

Youll probably want to take notes, he said in response
to the inspectors questioning glance.

What, are we in school or something? he replied
rudely.

He couldnt stand policemen who took notes. Whenever
he saw one doing so on television, he changed the channel.

In the apartment next door, Signora Gaetana Pinna, with the
tree-trunk legs, was waiting. As soon as she saw Montalbano,
she pounced.

Did you finally take the body away?

Yes, maam. You can use the elevator now. No, dont
close your door. I need to ask you a few questions.

Me? I got nothin to say.

He heard a voice from inside the flat, but it wasnt so
much a voice as a kind of deep rumble.

Tanina! Dont be so rude! Invite the gentleman inside!

The inspector entered another typical living roomdin-
ing room. Sitting in an armchair, in an undershirt, with a
sheet pulled over his legs, was an elephant, a man of gigantic
proportions. His bare feet, sticking out from under the sheet,
looked like elephant feet; even his long, pendulous nose resembled
a trunk.

Please sit down, the man said, apparently in a talkative
mood, motioning towards a chair. You know, when my wife
gets ornery like that, I feel like ...like...

Trumpeting? Montalbano couldnt help saying.
Luckily the man didnt understand.
. . . like breaking her neck. What can I do for you?
Did you know Mr. Lapra?
I dont know nobody in this building. I been livin here

five years and dont even know a friggin dog. In five years I
aint even made it as far as the landing. I cant move my legs,
takes too much effort. Took three stevedores to get me up
here, since I couldnt fit in the elevator. They put a sling
around me and hoisted me up, like a piano.

He laughed, rather like a roll of thunder.
I knew that Mr. Lapra, the wife cut in. Nasty man.

He couldnt be bothered to say hello, like it caused him pain.
You, signora, how did you find out he was dead?
Howd I find out? I had to go out shopping and so I

called the elevator, but nothing happened. It wouldnt come.
I guessed somebody musta left the door open, which these
rude peoples always doing round here. So I went down on
foot and saw the security guard standing guard over the body.
And after I went shopping, I had to climb back up the stairs
and I still havent caught my breath!

So much the better. That way youll talk less, said the
elephant.

the cristofoletti family said the plaque on the door of the
third apartment, but no matter how hard the inspector
knocked, nobody opened up. He went back to the Cosentino
flat and rang the doorbell.

What can I do for you, Inspector?
Do you know if the Cristofoletti family
Cosentino slapped himself noisily on the forehead.
I forgot to tell you! With all this business about the

dead body, it completely slipped my mind. Mr. and Mrs.
Cristofoletti are both in Montelusa. She, Signora Romilda,
that is, had an operation, woman stuff. They should be back
tomorrow.

Thanks.
Dont mention it.
Montalbano took two steps on the landing, turned

around, and knocked again.
What can I do for you, Inspector?
Earlier you said you had experience dealing with dead

people. What did you mean?
I worked as a nurse for a few years.
Thanks.
Dont mention it.

He went down to the fifth floor, where according to
Cosentino the elevator had been waiting with the already
murdered Aurelio Lapra inside. Had he perhaps gone up
one flight to meet someone who then knifed him?

Excuse me, maam, Im Inspector Montalbano.

The young housewife who had come to the door
about thirty, very attractive but unkemptput a finger to her
lips, her expression complicitous, enjoining him to be quiet.

Montalbano fell silent. What did that gesture mean?

Damn his habit of always going about unarmed! Gingerly the
young woman stood aside from the door, and the inspector,
on his guard and looking all around him, entered a small
study full of books.

Please speak very softly. If the baby wakes up, thats the
end, we wont be able to talk. He cries like theres no tomorrow.

Montalbano heaved a sigh of relief.

You already know everything, maam, dont you?

Yes, Mrs. Gullotta, the lady next door, told me, the
woman said, breathing the words in his ear. The inspector
found the situation very arousing.

So you didnt see Mr. Lapra this morning?

I havent been out of the house yet.

Where is your husband?

In Fela. He teaches at the middle school there. He
leaves every morning at six-fifteen sharp.

He was sorry their encounter had to be so brief. The
more he looked at Signora Gulisanothat was the surname
on the plaquethe more he liked her. In feminine fashion,
she sensed this and smiled.

Will you stay for a cup of coffee?

With pleasure.

The little boy who answered the door to the next apartment
couldnt have been more than four years old and was fiercely
cockeyed.

Who are you, stranger? he asked.

Im a policeman, Montalbano said, smiling, forcing
himself to play along.