The Dance of the Seagull by Andrea Camilleri

step.
    “Livia!”
    The voice that came out of his mouth sounded rather like a cat mewling. No, Livia was nowhere around, there was no point in calling her name. With great effort he unfroze, went back into the bedroom, and looked around. No trace of Livia whatsoever, as though she’d never come down from Boccadasse. He went into the dining room.
    On the table was a letter.
    A last goodbye, no doubt. For good, this time, with no change of mind possible. How could he blame her? All the same, he didn’t have the courage to pick up the piece of paper just yet. Before reading it, he needed to pull himself together, to find the strength necessary to listen to what he deserved to hear. He took all his clothes off, threw them into the hamper, took a shower and shaved, made coffee, drank three cups, one after the other, got dressed, phoned the hospital, and managed to talk to Signora Fazio.
    “Any news?”
    “They have to operate on him, Inspector.”
    “Why?”
    “He has a blood clot on his brain.”
    “Because of the wound?”
    “The doctor says he must also have fallen and hit his head in the same place as the wound.”
    “When is the operation?”
    “I don’t know. Sometime this morning, in any case.”
    “I’ll be right over.”
    “Listen, Inspector, the chief physician here, who’s a wonderful person, told me he’s in no danger for his life, and it’s a relatively easy operation. But just in case, take down my cell phone number.”
    “Thanks, I’ll take it down, but I’m coming anyway.”
    He hung up, grabbed Livia’s letter, and went out on the veranda and sat down.
    Dearest Salvo,
    After waiting for you for three hours (we had agreed we were going to have dinner together, remember?) I got absolutely furious.
    As I was about to ring you, I had an idea: to come to the police station in person and start slapping you in front of everyone. I wanted to make an ugly scene that your men would remember for a long time.
    So I called a taxi and came to the station. I told Catarella I wanted to see you and he replied that you weren’t in your office. When I asked him if he knew what time you’d be back, he said he didn’t know. And he added that the only thing he knew was that you’d had to go to Montelusa.
    Since I had no intention of abandoning my plan to slap you, I told him I would wait for you in your room. Which I did.
    But a few minutes later Catarella appeared.
    He closed the door behind him, started acting mysterious, and said he wanted to talk to me, even though he wasn’t convinced he was doing the right thing. And he told me that, in his opinion, something had happened to Fazio.
    Something serious, because you had seemed very concerned.
    That was when I understood in a flash that if you’d totally forgotten about your appointment with me, then the situation must be very dire.
    I know how much you care about Fazio.
    And so my anger simmered down immediately.
    I went to have a bite to eat at Enzo’s and then got in another taxi and went back to Marinella. Around 6 pm, I phoned Catarella. He told me there was no news, and that you weren’t back yet.
    And so I thought that if I stayed around I might just get in the way.
    I reserved a seat on the ten o’clock flight for tomorrow morning. I sincerely hope everything turns out all right.
    So, too bad for now. Maybe next time.
    There’s only one thing I hold against you: not having found the time to call me and tell me what was happening.
    Please keep me informed about Fazio.
    A big hug,
    Forever yours
    Livia
    It would have been a thousand times better if Livia had written a letter full of obscenities, insults, and abuse. This way, it only made him feel like the shit that he was. Or maybe Livia had written him so understanding a letter just to humiliate him all the more. Because, even admitting that his tremendous concern for Fazio had muddled his brain, there still was no excuse for not having even given Livia a ring. How on earth had Livia managed to