“Not much,” replied Héctor.
“Well, I’m getting off at the next station. Don’t worry, my brother won’t be getting into trouble again.”
“I’m sure he won’t.” Héctor smiled. “But don’t let him out of your sight just in case.”
The doors opened and Nelson, or Jorge, nodded and got down onto the platform.
As soon as he arrived at the police station, Héctor knew Agent Fort had news for him. He hoped that playing poker wasn’t included among his subordinate’s hobbies, because he’d never manage to hide a good hand.
“I’ve been going through Sara Mahler’s bank transactions,” he told him, faithful to his habit of explaining the whole process through to its conclusion. “Generally they’re pretty routine, direct debits and little else. A standing order to the Hera Women’s Association caught my eye. I have to investigate it. However, between October and December, Sara withdrew some significant sums of money. Here are the details.”
It was true: two hundred euro one day, one hundred on another occasion, two hundred and fifty just before Christmas. In itself it wasn’t anything strange, but judging by previous bank statements Sara was one of those who preferred to carry very little cash, and took out twenty or thirty euro a few times a week.
“There’s more: she spent five hundred euro in a jeweler’s on December 22 and another hundred on an underwear set.”
At first sight, it was clear that in the last few months Sara had spent more than three times her usual amount. Lingerie, jewelry …
“What do you think?” asked Héctor.
“I’d say there was a boyfriend or friend around … which would explain why Sara was in Urquinaona station at that time of the night. Maybe she’d met him …”
And maybe he’d stood her up, thought Héctor.
“Any idea of where she’d gone that night?”
Glum, Fort shook his head.
“No, and I don’t know how we can find out, to be honest. We’ve asked in all the surrounding restaurants and bars and no one remembers having seen Sara. We haven’t found her on the CCTV cameras in the area either. Unless this boyfriend turns up and tells us …”
“Strange that her roommate didn’t notice anything.”
Fort smiled thinking about Kristin. That girl was too busy to interest herself too much in Sara’s life. He was going to say so when the telephone on the desk rang. He answered the call then looked at the inspector.
“I think you can ask her yourself.”
In the corridor, accompanied by a friendly officer in uniform carrying a box, Kristin Herschdorfer appeared, carrying another cardboard box, smaller but equally heavy.
“Hello,” she greeted them, somewhat nervous on finding herself in a police station. “I’ve brought Sara’s things.”
Fort blushed a little.
“There was no need for you to come. I offered to pick them up from your house myself.”
Kristin raised an eyebrow, as if that wasn’t what she had understood.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. My friend brought me to the door in the car.”
“Is this everything?” asked Héctor.
Two boxes couldn’t really contain all of Sara Mahler’s belongings.
“Oh, no. Just what was in her bedroom. The clothes are still there. I don’t know what to do with them. And some of the furniture must be hers, of course. I think you’ll have to speak to the owner of the apartment. I’m moving out at the end of the month.”
Héctor nodded.
“By the way, but did Sara tell you anything about a new friend? Did she tell you she had met anyone special lately?”
Kristin shook her head. Her eyes lit up with genuine curiosity. “Did she have a boyfriend?”
“Possibly,” was all Héctor said. In fact, he wasn’t really sure of anything.
“If so, she must have met him on the Internet. He never came to the house, at least when I was there.”
“Did you spend much time at home?”
“No,” said Kristin. “My friend didn’t like Sara much. He said she used to … spy? on us.”
“One other thing: did Sara ever mention the Hera Association?”
Kristin’s face made it clear this meant nothing to her.
“Okay,” said Héctor. “Thanks very much, Señorita …”
“Herschdorfer,” she said, smiling. “I know it’s a tricky name. Oh, another thing. Not sure this is important, but the other day, when you left, I remembered Sara did have a visitor one day. A girl from work.”
Héctor took the group photo from his pocket. “Is she one of these?”
Kristin studied the photo for a moment.
“Yes, this one. She was really very beautiful.”
Amanda Bonet, Héctor said to himself.
“If they worked together it’s natural they should be friends,” added Fort.
Kristin looked at the agent and shrugged.
“Actually I only saw her once. When I first moved in, that’s why I’d forgotten.” She sighed, as if she wished to erase Sara and everything about her from her mind. “My friend is waiting for me outside.”
“I’ll see you out,” offered Fort.
She rewarded him with a radiant smile.
“That’s nice, thanks. By the way, do you speak Catalan too?”
Héctor didn’t understand why the question made Roger Fort go red to the roots of his hair. He saw them walking away and couldn’t help smiling, but his expression froze on seeing Dídac Bellver appear and pass Fort and the Dutch girl, almost running into them. He marched toward Héctor with the force of a locomotive and, judging by his face, in a seriously bad mood.
Ten minutes later, shut away in his office, Héctor was still at a loss to understand his colleague’s rage.
“You have no right to interfere in my work,” Bellver repeated for the nth time, pointing his index finger a few centimeters closer to his colleague than necessary.
“Look,” replied Héctor. He was leaning on his desk, and fast losing his patience, “I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about, so it might be worth explaining it better.”
“Come on, Salgado, don’t give me that. This air of innocence might work on others, but not on me.”
Héctor began counting backward, from ten to zero, a basic technique for remaining calm; but when he got to five he was sick of counting.
“No fucking air of innocence, Bellver. Do me a favor and tell me what this is about, or get out of my office.”
“Yeah right, you don’t fool me.” He inhaled and dropped the bomb, like a gob of spit. “Maybe it wasn’t you who asked Sergeant Andreu to take out your wife’s file from my archives?”
Héctor was so taken aback that for once he had no answer.
“You don’t expect me to believe Andreu did it off her own bat? Come on, Salgado, I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“I swear I don’t know anything about this,” Héctor repeated very slowly.
Bellver’s face was disbelieving.
“What the hell are you looking for, Salgado? If you want to know something about the case, come and ask me. Don’t send your henchmen to do the dirty work.”
“I don’t give a damn whether you believe me or not, I’m telling you for the third and last time: I have nothing to do with this.”
“Well, you should.” Bellver’s sentences were running into one another. “You should give a damn, Salgado, because you’re not always going to be as lucky, you know that? Anyone else would have been given the boot. I don’t know why they keep you here.”
“Maybe because I solve cases?”
It took Inspector Bellver a few seconds to react.
“What are you implying?”
Héctor knew he’d pay dearly for what he was going to say, but he’d wanted to say it for a while.
“I’m implying that if people are judged by results, your department’s score wouldn’t be so great. I’m implying, though you might not like it, I haven’t the slightest need to swipe Ruth’s file to see your progress, because I bet you anything there isn’t any. And I’m also implying that you’d better not break my balls if you want me to stop implying and-”