In The Voice of the Violin Montalbano becomes interested in a seemingly abandoned car. Frustrated in his attempts to learn more, he pulls a black-bag job, finds a corpse, and the story’s off and running. In The Sicilian Method it’s Auguello’s try at this bit, but, keeping in character, he’s fleeing a cuckold, out the window and down into the apartment below. Auguello’s body disappears, but is replaced with another, this time of a theatrical impresario/director and loan shark, and it stays around so Montalbano and crew can get some detecting done.

In every Montalbano story there’s a short bit, half a page or so, that I think of as the Three Stooges Bit, some slapstick between Montalbano and whomever’s around at the time (there’s probably a more dignified Italian term for it, perhaps opera buffa or commedia dell’arte). Here the bit’s slathered on all over the place, particularly at the beginning. It has some justification given Auguello’s balcony gymnastics, but a little of this stuff goes a long way, even when looking forward to it.

Montalbano the babe magnet is another recurring bit that gets overworked in The Sicilian Method. That sort of thing is fine as part of the story, but is tricky when used as character development, particularly for the protagonist. Not even Elmore Leonard handled the aging Lothario bit well, so expectation isn’t high for Camilleri; the disappointment is Camilleri leaning so hard and clumsily on it in Sicilian.

The main story is mildly complicated, split between loan-shark suspects and theater suspects. Given Camilleri’s background in theater and TV, it’s not surprising the theater side attracts most of the narrative. The dead man’s auditioning techniques are psychologically intense to the point of abuse, and a script in development provides some nudges. The secondary mystery involves young lovers, hostile families and a shooting. This story reads like a good short story plopped down amid the main story. The resolution of the main story, including Auguello’s missing body, is essentially by coincidence, although probably an inevitable one.