‘Give me the name of the tonic – I might take a shower in it… What a joy it is, and a relief, to see you looking so well!’
These high spirits were soon punctured when he turned to the news of the day.
‘Did you hear about Barrido and Escobillas?’ he asked.
‘I’ve just come from there. It’s hard to believe.’
‘Who would have imagined it? It’s not as if they aroused any warm feelings in me, but this… And tell me, from a legal point of view, how does it all leave you? I don’t mean to sound crude.’
‘To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I think the two partners owned the company. There must be heirs, I suppose, but it’s conceivable that, if they both die, the company as such will cease to exist. And, with it, any agreement I had with them. Or at least that’s what I think.’
‘In other words, if Escobillas, may God forgive me, kicks the bucket too, then you’re a free man.’
I nodded.
‘What a dilemma…’ mumbled the bookseller.
‘What will be will be…’ I said.
Sempere nodded, but I noticed that something was bothering him and he wanted to change the subject.
‘Anyway. The thing is, it’s wonderful that you’ve dropped by because I wanted to ask you a favour.’
‘Say no more: it’s already done.’
‘I warn you, you’re not going to like it.’
‘If I liked it, it wouldn’t be a favour, it would be a pleasure. And if the favour is for you, it will be.’
‘It’s not really for me. I’ll explain and you decide. No obligation, all right?’
Sempere leaned on the counter and adopted his confidential manner, bringing back childhood memories of times I had spent in that shop.
‘There’s this young girl, Isabella. She must be seventeen. As bright as a button. She’s always coming round here and I lend her books. She tells me she wants to be a writer.’
‘Sounds familiar.’
‘The thing is, a week ago she left one of her stories with me – just twenty or thirty pages, that’s all – and asked for my opinion.’
‘And?’
Sempere lowered his tone, as if he were revealing a secret from an official inquiry.
‘Masterly. Better than 99 per cent of what I’ve seen published in the last twenty years.’
‘I hope you are including me in the remaining one per cent or I’ll consider my self-esteem well and truly trodden on.’
‘That’s just what I was coming to. Isabella adores you.’
‘She adores me?’
‘Yes, as if you were the Virgin of Montserrat and the Baby Jesus all in one. She’s read the whole City of the Damned series ten times over, and when I lent her The Steps of Heaven she told me that if she could write a book like that she’d die a peaceful death.’
‘You were right. I don’t like the sound of this.’
‘I knew you’d try to wriggle out of it.’
‘I’m not wriggling out. You haven’t told me what the favour is.’
‘You can imagine.’
I sighed. Sempere clicked his tongue.
‘I warned you.’
‘Ask me something else.’
‘All you have to do is talk to her. Give her some encouragement, some advice… Listen to her, read some of her stuff and give her a little guidance. The girl has a mind as quick as a bullet. You’re really going to like her. You’ll become friends. She could even work as your assistant.’
‘I don’t need an assistant. Still less someone I don’t know.’
‘Nonsense. Besides, you do know her. Or at least that’s what she says. She says she’s known you for years, but you probably don’t remember her. It seems that the couple of simple souls she has for parents are convinced that this literature business will consign her to eternal damnation, or at least to a secular spinsterhood. They’re wavering between locking her up in a convent or marrying her off to some jerk who will give her eight children and bury her forever among pots and pans. If you do nothing to save her, it’s tantamount to murder.’
‘Don’t pull a Jane Eyre on me, Señor Sempere.’
‘Look. I wouldn’t ask you, because I know that you’re as much of a fan of this altruism stuff as you are of dancing sardanas, but every time I see her come in here and look at me with those little eyes that seem to be popping with intelligence and enthusiasm, I think of the future that awaits her and it breaks my heart. I’ve already taught her all I can. The girl learns fast, Martín. She reminds me of you when you were a young lad.’
I sighed.
‘Isabella what?’
‘Gispert. Isabella Gispert.’
‘I don’t know her. I’ve never heard that name in my life. Someone’s been telling you a tall story.’
The bookseller shook his head and mumbled under his breath. ‘That’s exactly what Isabella said you’d say.’
‘So, she’s talented and she’s psychic. What else did she say?’
‘She suspects you’re a much better writer than a person.’
‘What an angel, this Isabelita.’
‘Can I tell her to come and see you? No obligation?’
I gave in. Sempere smiled triumphantly and wanted to seal the pact with an embrace, but I escaped before the old bookseller was able to complete his mission of trying to make me feel like a good Samaritan.
‘You won’t be sorry, Martín,’ I heard him say as I walked out of the door.
3
When I got home, Inspector Víctor Grandes was sitting on the front doorstep, calmly smoking a cigarette. With the poise of a matinee star he smiled when he saw me, as if he were an old friend on a courtesy call. I sat down next to him and he pulled out his cigarette case. Gitanes, I noticed. I accepted.
‘Where are Hansel and Gretel?’
‘Marcos and Castelo were unable to come. We had a tip-off, so they’ve gone to find an old acquaintance in Pueblo Seco who is probably in need of a little persuasion to jog his memory.’
‘Poor devil.’
‘If I’d told them I was coming here, they would probably have joined me. They think the world of you.’
‘Love at first sight, I noticed. What can I do for you, inspector? May I invite you upstairs for a cup of coffee?’
‘I wouldn’t dare invade your privacy, Señor Martín. In fact, I simply wanted to give you the news personally before you found out from other sources.’
‘What news?’
‘Escobillas passed away early this afternoon in the Clínico hospital.’
‘God. I didn’t know,’ I said.
Grandes shrugged his shoulders and continued smoking in silence.
‘I could see it coming. Nothing anyone could do about it.’
‘Have you discovered anything about the cause of the fire?’ I asked.
The inspector looked at me, then nodded.
‘Everything seems to indicate that somebody spilled petrol over Señor Barrido and then set fire to him. The flames spread when he panicked and tried to get out of his office. His partner and the other employee who rushed over to help him were trapped.’
I swallowed hard. Grandes smiled reassuringly.
‘The publishers’ lawyer was saying this afternoon that, given the personal nature of your agreement, it becomes null and void with the death of the publishers, although their heirs will retain the rights on all the works published until now. I suppose he’ll write to you, but I thought you might like to know in advance, in case you need to take any decision concerning the offer from the other publisher you mentioned.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Grandes had a last puff of his cigarette and threw the butt on the ground. He smiled affably and stood up. Then he patted me on the shoulder and walked off towards Calle Princesa.