The first in the Inspector Bordelli series. He reminds me a little of another famous literary detective, Inspector Montalbano in Sicily because of his love for food and his seeing a person's true character regardless of their station in life. His belief in fairness is inspirating, especially when...
She was very agitated and stammering, and impossible to understand. Only after a few minutes did she manage to say something comprehensible about a dead little girl, and so she was put through to the inspector’s office. Bordelli charged out of his room, cursing, then yelled Piras’s name. Doors op...
his alarm clock woke him up unceremoniously. He turned it off and stood up, staggering, went into the bathroom, stuck his head in the sink and ran cold water over it. Then he sat down in the kitchen and, one cup after another, ended up drinking a whole pot of coffee. He thought of Odoardo, of cou...
It was a few minutes before seven. He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and went out of the door, suppressing the desire to light up another one. He descended the stairs slowly. In the lobby he grabbed an umbrella at random, then went and got into the Beetle. The windscreen wipers were old and...