Wait a second, he said to himself. Let’s think about this.

Yes, the immigrants could move the cart more easily, and more quickly, on the provincial road than on the sand. But was it really such a good idea to let themselves be seen by all the passing cars? What if one of these cars belonged to the police or the carabinieri?

They would surely be stopped and made to answer a lot of questions. And quite possibly a repatriation order would come out of it all.

No, they weren’t that stupid.

And so?

There was another possible explanation.

Namely, that the people who stole the horse were not illegals, but legals and then some.That is, from Vigàta.

Or the surrounding area.

So why did they do it? To recover the carcass and get rid of it.

Perhaps the whole thing had gone as follows: The horse manages to escape and someone chases after it to finish it off. But he is forced to stop because there are people on the beach, maybe even the morning fisherman, who could become dangerous witnesses. So he goes back and informs the boss. The boss decides they absolutely have to get the carcass back. And he organizes the business with the cart. But at a certain point he, Montalbano, wakes up and throws a wrench into the boss’s plans.

The people who stole the dead horse were the same ones who killed it.

Yes, that must be exactly the way it went.

And, at the side of the provincial road, right where the esplanade abutted it, there had surely been a van or truck ready for loading the horse and cart.

No, illegal immigrants had nothing to do with this.

2

Galluzzo set down on the inspector’s desk a large plastic bag with the rope inside it, along with another, smaller bag with the cigarette butts.

“You said there were two brands?”

“Yeah, Chief. Marlboro and Philip Morris, with the double filter.”