“He didn’t tell you if Ruth, Salgado’s ex-wife, had come to see him?”
He seemed surprised at that.
“No. He had a photo of her, but he never said anything like that. And I don’t think so. Why would she go?”
That was the question. Why? thought Leire. The only possible answer was that Ruth felt herself responsible for what Héctor had done and wanted to help him, although that meant venturing into the lion’s den.
“Maybe to ask him to stop his efforts to destroy the inspector.”
Damián laughed.
“If she did, she was naive. Omar was determined to finish Salgado. Deep down the inspector should be grateful that the old guy is no longer in this world.”
“I doubt Inspector Salgado would agree,” replied Leire, while she wondered how to proceed. If Damián Fernández couldn’t confirm whether Ruth had gone to see Omar, she’d have to find out some other way. And there was only one way. “Damián, what happened to the tapes? You know the ones I mean: the ones Omar recorded in his clinic of all his visitors.”
“I have nothing to say about those tapes,” said Damián.
“Not even in exchange for my help?”
“Your help?”
“Let’s not kid ourselves, Damián,” Leire pointed to the bruise, “jail’s not going too well for you. And I’ve friends among the wardens here. Good friends, you know. Are you sure a kind of special deal wouldn’t suit you? You’re looking at a long time behind bars.”
“I know those promises, Agent. They’re forgotten so quickly …”
Leire decided to play her last card.
“Look, Damián, to be honest with you I don’t think eliminating Omar from the world was such a terrible deed. But obstructing the investigation into Ruth Valldaura’s disappearance does seem so to me. So I’m going to propose a deal.”
“You’re more intelligent than the others. At least you don’t threaten me.”
“I’m not investigating Dr. Omar’s death. All that interests me is finding out if Ruth went to see him or not. If you tell me where you put those tapes-and we both know you hid them somewhere-I promise you I’ll make sure your life in prison is different. Better. And if in the end I manage to find Ruth thanks to your help, I’m sure Salgado and even the superintendent will be more than willing to intercede for you. Not to free you of your sentence, of course, but it could be shorter … and more comfortable. If not, you’ll continue having it just as bad in here.” She was about to say she could arrange for his stint to be worse than it was, but she didn’t.
“And what would I have to do?”
“Tell me where the tapes are.”
He lowered his voice. “I only have some of them, the ones from the last few months. Since the day Inspector Salgado attacked Omar.”
“Where?”
“In a storage facility in the city, along with other stuff. I didn’t want to keep them at home.”
Leire was surprised. How could they have overlooked this?
“Did you rent it in your name?”
He smiled.
“I’m not that stupid, Agent. I rented it in the name of Héctor Salgado.”
“Will you give me the address and key?”
“Promise not to forget me?”
Leire vowed to be true to her word.
“I’ll do what I can to improve your life here, Damián. I swear.”
And he believed her.
27
Under normal circumstances, Leire would have gone to the storage locker that same Monday afternoon, but the prospect of crossing the entire city to get there persuaded her otherwise. Also, when she got off the train in Plaça Espanya, she was tired. The station was nearby and for a moment she was tempted to go in and speak to Sergeant Andreu. She decided to wait; it would be more sensible to do so when she had opened the locker than to raise false hopes beforehand.
In front of her, in the Arenas bullring, the grand opening of which as a shopping center was planned for a few months’ time, they were testing the lights. After years of work, those lights reminded her of her elder brother’s Exin Castillos toy sets. Although Leire deeply detested the so-called “national party,” converting that space into another mountain of shops seemed almost disrespectful to the poor animals who had died in the arena. But the word “shop” had given her an idea: she’d drop into a video store she’d seen near her house and rent or, failing that, buy the film Guillermo had been watching at his mother’s house.
She finally arrived home after seven, truly exhausted, determined not to go out again until the next day. She had an appointment with the doctor at ten a.m. and wanted him to find her well rested. Abel seemed tired too and she had to wait a good while for him to move. She smiled when at last he did. “So you’re there, kid? Today Mama did a little too much, but I promise now we’re going to stay at home in peace, watching TV.” She called María, who accompanied her to her medical appointments as often as she could, and arranged a time for the following morning. We haven’t seen each other in days, she thought, which must mean there is a new boyfriend in her life. After the African adventure, María had come back without her NGO boyfriend, ranting about him but happy to have spent the summer doing something different. Strange, Leire thought. Pregnancy had changed her perspective on life, and her friend’s exploits, which she used to find amusing, were starting to bore her. You’re acting like an old woman, she warned herself. And you’re going to be a mother, not a grandmother.
She had to agree with Guillermo with regard to Breathless. Apart from starring Jean-Paul Belmondo, with whom she’d run away without thinking twice, the pace was so slow that Leire fell asleep on the sofa half an hour into the film and awoke at the end when a heartbroken Jean Seberg, hatefully slim, informed on her lover and watched him die from a bullet wound. “She loved him too much,” Ruth had said. “Sometimes that’s scary.” She was so tired that even thinking hurt and she went to bed feeling that, had she been more alert, she’d have understood Ruth and her preference for this film of doomed love a little better.
The following morning, true to her word, María picked her up and accompanied her to Sant Joan de Déu, the hospital where she would give birth to Abel in a few weeks, all being well. According to the doctor, everything was going wonderfully, although he insisted severely that she should rest. There was still the risk of premature labor: Abel might decide to be born before his due date, he warned her. On the other hand, he congratulated her on her weight, which she couldn’t believe and attributed to her walks and to having been restrained with food, and he made her an appointment for the following week. “Not long now,” he encouraged her. “And rest. I know it’s boring, but soon it’ll be over.”
They emerged onto the street and headed toward the parking lot where they’d left the car.
“So,” María said, “I’ll take you home, eh?”
Leire hesitated; she knew her friend would tell her off if she asked her to take her to the storage locker Fernández had rented on the outskirts of Poblenou, Héctor’s barrio, instead of obeying the doctor. But on the other hand, someone taking her there by car and then home was difficult to resist.
“You mind taking me somewhere?”
“Don’t tell me you want to go shopping?”
“I have to pick something up.” She didn’t want to seem mysterious, though neither did she feel like explaining further. “Call it … a craving.”
María gave in, unwillingly, nudged as much by the wish to please her friend as by her curiosity. In exchange, Leire brought her up to date on what Tomás had said before leaving.
“Holy shit! So he’s planning to come and live here?” said María when she heard. “He’ll be a model papa in the end. And how do you feel about it?”
“I suppose it’ll be good to have him closer when Abel is born. Above all, for the little one.”