Montalbano learned how hard it was to put on a wetsuit while in a dinghy speeding over a sea that wasnt exactly calm. Mimì, at the helm, looked tense and worried. Getting seasick? the inspector asked him at one point. No. Just sick of myself. Why? Because every now and then I realize what a stupid shit I am to go along with some of your brilliant ideas. When an angry octogenarian holds a terrified and lovelorn secretary at gunpoint, Inspector Montalbano is reluctantly drawn into the case. The secretarys boss, a financial advisor, has vanished along with several billion lire entrusted to him by the good citizens of Vigata. Also missing is the advisors young colleague, whose uncle just happens to be building a house on the site of Inspector Montalbanos very favourite olive tree . . . Ably abetted by his loyal and eccentric team, Montalbano, the food-loving, commitment-phobic inspector, returns for another delicious investigation served up in vintage Camilleri style. |