I needn’t have worried about the dog; Tom found him happy with his pals, and his presence seemed to make Cher and Mustard less demanding of Ben. It was the quietest time of the working day in St Martí, so I expected him to be alone when I walked into the shop, but he wasn’t. A blonde woman was sitting on a high stool beside the counter: Elena Fumado. She didn’t look pretty; there were black circles under her eyes, and her face was lined. It struck me that she must have been crying over her mum for ten days.
‘You two don’t really know each other, do you?’ said Ben.
We both shook our heads. ‘We’ve met in the furniture shop,’ I told him, ‘and seen each other at a couple of funerals, but you’re right. Hello, Elena, it’s good to be formally introduced.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed.
‘I’m sorry about your mother; truly I am.’
‘You found her, didn’t you?’
I wasn’t ready to admit to that, so I stuck to the official version, which had a semblance of truth about it. ‘My father-in-law did. . my former father-in-law, I should say. He was walking Charlie and he barked at the storeroom door.’
‘And now our priest’s in prison.’ She paused. ‘Justine told me he’s guilty. That’s true?’
‘He’s confessed to both murders, that’s true.’
‘You don’t believe him?’
‘I’m finding it difficult,’ I admitted. ‘I’ve heard him admit it on tape, and I’ve learned a lot of stuff about what he was like when he was young, in Granada. Yet I’m still finding it difficult. I don’t care what he was like then, I know him as he is now, and I can’t come to terms with him having done something as awful as this. . or done anything awful, for that matter. Be honest with me, Elena, you must know Gerard. .’
‘Yes,’ she interposed, ‘when Ben and I were together, I went to church here. I know him; he’s a good priest.’
‘And a good man. Can you accept this?’
‘Not easily. . but I suppose I have to. He’s declared his own guilt, and the forensic evidence is absolute.’
There are no absolutes in humanity, I thought, and as I did so I felt a faintly uncomfortable wriggling, somewhere at the back of my mind.
‘In a way I’m glad it’s him,’ Elena continued.
My frown was so quick and strong I thought I’d pulled a muscle in my forehead. ‘You’re glad?’ I repeated.
She stared at the floor, avoiding my glare.
‘Tell her, love,’ said Ben quietly. ‘Tell her what you’ve just told me.’
I looked at her for long, silent seconds as she studied the wooden flooring. ‘The night José-Luis died,’ she whispered, ‘Angel wasn’t with me. He told me that he was going to a trade association dinner in S’Agaro, and that he was going to stay overnight, since it would be a late finish, and there would be drinking. I know I shouldn’t have, but with the bad blood between Angel and his father over me. . after his body was found, and after we learned that it wasn’t an accident, I checked with the hotel. There was no dinner and he didn’t stay there. I’ve been afraid, so yes, when at first they thought you had done it, Primavera, I was relieved, I admit it. When you were cleared, my fear returned, then when Father Gerard was arrested. .’
‘I see.’ She was able to return my gaze. ‘Anyone but the man you love. I understand that. I’ve been there myself. . and I’m not talking about Gerard. But,’ I added, ‘you know what you’ve got to do, don’t you?’
‘Go to the police.’
‘Hell no!’ I exclaimed. ‘You do that and you’re suggesting that Angel murdered his father and your mother. I don’t know the guy very well, but I don’t believe that. You go to the Mossos, they clear him, then what? Do you reckon he’d ever forgive you? No, you go straight home or to the shop, wherever he is, you pin him to the nearest wall, and better still grab him by the balls, with intent, and make him tell you where he was that night.’
She looked at me, with a new respect, and a faint smile. ‘Grab him by the balls?’
‘With intent, remember. He has to look in your eyes and know that you’re very, very serious. Also,’ I added, ‘since, wherever he was, he’s unlikely to have been visiting his sick nun aunt in her convent, chopping and handling a few fresh chillies before you do the deed wouldn’t be inappropriate either.’
‘God, you’re hard,’ she whispered.
‘No, dear, just experienced.’
Ben said nothing; he just sat there, looking terrified.
‘Go on,’ I said. ‘Do it; and remember to call in at the fruit and veg shop on the way home.’
‘I will,’ she promised, ‘but I don’t have to rush. It’s Monday, so our shop’s closed; Angel’s running my sister to the train station in Girona. She’s off somewhere on council business. She told me where but I can’t remember.’
She kissed Ben lightly, chastely, and left. I thanked him for looking after Charlie. . Tom was herding the three dogs on Plaça Petita. . bought some anchovies and a wheel of a very nice sheep’s cheese, then headed for home.
I thought about Elena’s situation. I couldn’t see Angel as a killer, but clearly the guy had been playing away-games. It was interesting that she’d gone to Ben to pour out her misery; I filed that fact away for future attention.
It was gone five thirty when we got home. Normally, Tom could outrun the Duracell bunny, but his morning on the Mediterranean had left him yawning. If I’d told him to go for a snooze, there would have been rebellion, for boys don’t do that during the day, not when they’re nearly nine, so instead I asked if he’d like to lie and read on my terrace, while I fixed my hair. That’s a bit of a treat for him, so he jumped at the offer, and headed out there with his choice of the moment. I make a point of buying him children’s books in all his languages. . Catalan’s a bit difficult, but the range on offer is improving. His choice that day was Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, in French. (No offence, JK, but I’m trying to keep him to one book a year, appropriate to his age.) I left him to it; when I checked on him five minutes later he was asleep on the lounger.
I sat in a cane chair beside him, looking at him, and thinking over my day, in particular the meeting with Javier Fumado. I wondered how the guys were getting on with Senora Hernandez. . they had established that she still lived at that address. . and whether what she had to tell them would prove so important that it should have been in the file, or so trivial that it wasn’t worth the paper.
I knew that Alex or Hector would tell me either way, when they were good and ready, so I put it out of my mind and forced myself back to the real world, the one filled with ordinary humdrum tasks, like returning your hair to a more acceptable colour than the one you chose when you were on the run from the police. I went into my bathroom, stripped off, got under the shower and went about my task, very carefully since I wanted to make sure that every last chestnut strand was eliminated. It might be difficult for someone who is not a woman to understand that applying a hair tint is a complicated business; but then again, in this day and age, it might not. It took me the best part of an hour, but when I was finished, I was happy. In fact, I was more than happy. The shade was virtually the way I am naturally, without the sun-bleaching, and with the added bonus that I couldn’t see a single one of those silver strands that have been intruding more and more over the last few years.
‘Yes,’ I said aloud, as I finished dressing, ‘you’ll do, girl.’ I decided that I would buy a stock of the stuff; not that I would use it all the time, just to keep for the occasional morale boost and against the day when, God forbid. . although he rarely does, from what I’ve seen in my lifetime. . silver would move into the majority.