Since I’ve known you I’ve been forced to see them about fifty times. You can therefore stick them, column by column, you-know-where. I’m going off by myself and don’t know when I’ll be back. Livia’s note oozed with rage, and Montalbano took it in. But since a wolflike hunger had seized hold of him on his way back from Serradifalco, he opened the fridge: nothing. He opened the oven: nothing. Livia, who didn’t want the housekeeper about for the time of her stay in Vigàta, had taken her sadism to the point of cleaning everything utterly. Not the tiniest piece of bread was to be found. He got back in his car and drove to the Trattoria San Calogero, where they were already rolling down their shutters. “We’re always open for you, Inspector.” To quell his hunger and to spite Livia, he ate so much he nearly had to call the doctor. “There’s one statement here that’s got me thinking,” said Montalbano. “You mean where she says she might do something crazy?” They were sitting in the living room having coffee, the inspector, the headmaster, and Signora Angelina.
