Riccardino
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3.5 • 13 Ratings
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- $8.99
Publisher Description
The twenty-eighth and final novel in the thrilling, wickedly funny Inspector Montalbano Mysteries series by bestselling author Andrea Camilleri.
‘Contrary to what you think, I’m carrying out this investigation as best I can. But let’s do this: if I get stuck, if I find I can’t go forward or back, then I’ll let you know, and you can step in. And offer me a way out. You’ve gained a bit of detective work through me, haven’t you? What do you say?’
‘I’m game,’ said the Author . . .
When Inspector Montalbano receives an early-morning phone call it proves to be the start of a very trying day. For the caller expects Montalbano to arrive imminently at a rendezvous with some friends. But before he can reply the caller announces himself as someone called Riccardino and hangs up.
Later that day news comes in of a brutal slaying in broad daylight by an unknown assassin who makes his getaway on a motorbike. And when the Inspector learns of the victim’s identity – a man called Riccardino – his troubles are only just beginning. For soon he must contend with the involvement of a local bishop and a fortune teller who reports some strange goings-on in her neighbourhood.
All roads soon lead to a local salt mine but the case proves stubbornly intractable until Montalbano receives another unexpected call . . .
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In an amusing metafictional twist, Camilleri (1925–2019) plays a part in his elegiac 28th and final mystery featuring Sicilian police inspector Salvo Montalbano (after The Cook of the Halcyon). Just shy of five o'clock in the morning, Montalbano's phone rings. The caller identifies himself as Riccardino and says, "We're all here already, outside the Bar Aurora, and you're the only one missing!" Peeved at being disturbed, Montalbano tells the stranger he'll be right there, hangs up, and goes back to bed. A second call comes an hour later—from his police colleagues, who ask him to come to the Bar Aurora to investigate the murder of Riccardo Lopresti. Montalbano feels "strangely certain—with a certainty as absolute as it was inexplicable—that the poor bastard who was shot was the same person who had called him on the phone before dawn by dialing a wrong number." As motives begin to multiply, Montalbano's investigation is muddled by phone calls from "the Author" spouting far-fetched suggestions on how to proceed. Incisive wit colors this insightful and intriguing farewell. The sad, poetic ending is perfect.
