When Detective Max Hornung landed at the Costa Smeralda airport in Sardinia, he rented the cheapest car available, a Fiat 500, and drove into Olbia. Unlike the rest of Sardinia, Olbia was an industrial city, and the outskirts were an ugly sprawl of mills and factories, a city dump and a giant graveyard of once-beautiful automobiles, now useless old hulks, good only for scrap. Every city in the world had its automobile junkyards, Max thought. Monuments to civilization.
Max reached the center of town and drove up in front of a building with a sign that read: "QUESTURA
DI SASSARI COMMISSARIATO DI POLIZIA OLBIA." The moment Max entered, he felt that familiar sense of identity, of belonging. He showed his warrant card to the desk sergeant, and a few minutes later he was ushered into the office of the Chief of Police, Luigi Ferraro. Ferraro rose to his feet, a welcoming smile on his face. It died as he saw his visitor. There was something about Max that did not spell "detective."
"Could I see your identification?" Chief Ferraro asked politely.
"Certainly," Max said. He pulled out his warrant card and Chief Ferraro examined both sides of it carefully, then returned it. His immediate conclusion was that Switzerland must be very hard up for detectives. He took a seat behind his desk and said, "What can I do for you?"
Max started to explain, in fluent Italian. The problem was that it took Chief Ferraro some moments to figure out what language Max was speaking. When he realized what it was supposed to be, he held up a horrified hand and said, "Basta! Do you speak English?"
"Of course," Max replied.
"Then I beg of you! Let us speak in English."
When Max was through talking, Chief Ferraro said, "You are mistaken, signore. I can tell you that you are wasting your time. My mechanics have already examined the Jeep. Everyone is agreed that it was an accident."
Max nodded, unperturbed. "I haven't looked at it"
Chief Ferraro said, "Very well. It is in a public garage now, up for sale. I will have one of my men take you there. Would you like to see the scene of the accident?"
Max blinked and said, "What for?"
Detective Bruno Campagna was elected as Max's escort. "We've already checked it out. It was an accident," Campagna said.
"No," Max replied.
The Jeep was in a corner of the garage, its front still dented and splashed with dried green sap.
"I haven't had time to work on it yet," the mechanic explained.
Max walked around the Jeep, examining it. "How were the brakes tampered with?" he asked.
The mechanic said, "Ges
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