Picador Andrea Camilleri Inspector Montalbano Mysteries 10 Books Collection Set Series 1

Andrea Camilleri Inspector Montalbano Mysteries 10 Books Collection Set (Series 1) The Shape of Water The goats of Vigata once grazed on the trash-strewn site still known as the Pasture. Now local enterprise of a different sort flourishes: drug dealers and prostitutes of every flavour. But their discreet trade is upset when two employees of the Splendour Refuse Collection Company discover the body of engineer Silvio Luparello, one of the local movers and shakers, apparently deceased in flagrante at the Pasture. The Terracotta Dog The Terracotta Dog opens with a mysterious tête-à-tête with a Mafioso, some inexplicably abandoned loot from a supermarket heist, and some dying words that lead Inspector Montalbano to a secret grotto in a mountain cave where two young lovers dead fifty years and still embracing are watched over by a life-size terracotta dog. Montalbano’s passion to solve this old crime takes him, heedless of personal danger, on a journey through the island’s past and into a family’s dark heart amid the horrors of World War II. The Snack Thief Never has Inspector Montalbano’s character – a unique blend of humor, cynicism, compassion, earthiness, and love of good food – been more compelling than in The Snack Thief. When an elderly man is stabbed to death in an elevator and a crewman on an Italian fishing trawler is machine-gunned by a Tunisian patrol boat off Sicily’s coast, only Inspector Montalbano suspects a link between the two incidents. The Voice of the Violin The commissioner kept looking at him with an expression that combined contempt and commiseration, apparently discerning unmistakable signs of senile dementia in the inspector. “I’m going to speak very frankly, Montalbano. I don’t have a very high opinion of you.” “Nor I of you,” the inspector replied bluntly. Montalbano's gruesome discovery of a naked young woman suffocated in her bed immediately sets him on a search for her killer. Excursion to Tindari Maybe a phrase, a line, a hint somewhere would reveal a reason, any reason, for the elderly couple’s disappearance. They’d saved everything . . . there was even a copy of the ‘certificate of living existence’, that nadir of bureaucratic imbecility . . . What was the ‘protocol’, to use a word dear to government offices? Did one simply write on a sheet of paper something like: ‘I, the undersigned, Salvo Montalbano, hereby declare myself to be in existence’, sign it, and turn it in to the appointed clerk? The Scent of the Night Montalbano learned how hard it was to put on a wetsuit while in a dinghy speeding over a sea that wasn’t 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. Rounding... ...