Saúl looked at him, uncomprehending. Then, little by little, his expression reacted to this revelation.
“Gaspar. Sara. And now-Amanda. What are you trying to say?”
“I don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to find out. Saúl, did Amanda tell you about anything that happened that weekend? Anything strange, unusual? Anything relating to the dogs they found strangled, perhaps?”
He shook his head and Héctor felt overwhelmed with exasperation. For a moment he’d believed maybe this man would know, that he’d have the answer, even if unconsciously.
“Well, the only thing that happened-that happened to Amanda-was the fright she got on the Friday night, when I called her. But it didn’t have anything to do with the dogs …” He seemed confused.
“Tell me.”
“I called her every Friday night, around nine. She had to be free to answer. Obviously I knew she was with everyone in the house, but I called her anyway and ordered her to go outside. She obeyed me, as always.”
“What else?”
“We started to play. I told her to move away from the house, I rebuked her, I asked her to …” He stopped himself, suddenly embarrassed once again.
“Go on,” ordered Héctor.
“You don’t know the house, right? It’s an old masía in Empordà, converted into an activity center now. It was run as a luxury rural accommodation as well. It’s away from the town and surrounded by woods, although you can reach it by highway with no problems. Amanda had taken the lantern and, so as not to be surprised by any of the others, moved down the access path to go a little way into the trees. She said she didn’t like it, it was dark; I insisted, so she did as she was told. In that and in touching herself. I wanted her to get aroused, touch her breasts in the open air … I wanted to hear her moan and she started to. And then I heard a scream and the call was cut off.”
“Amanda screaming?”
“She called me a few minutes later, very upset. It seemed she thought she saw a man watching her in the darkness. Seeing how she was touching herself. The man did nothing, didn’t follow her or anything like that; anyway, Amanda was frightened and ran back to the path.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes. But that was on the Friday. They found those poor animals the following day.”
“And they buried them, everyone has told us so,” confirmed Héctor, annoyed. “Are you sure nothing else happened?”
“Not then, later on-but it was to do with that weekend. After the summer, Amanda said we should be more careful because she suspected Sara Mahler had found out about us. Sara was strange, you know? You never knew what she was thinking.”
Héctor nodded. Her Dutch roommate had also made some comment of the sort. The image of Sara, this unattractive and solitary woman, listening to the secrets of those enjoying a more intense sex life, caused him a moment’s unease.
“Do you know if Amanda confirmed her suspicions or was it just conjecture?”
Saúl Duque shook his head, although before he could add anything further the court secretary, who had appeared mid-conversation and gone toward the room where Amanda had died, ordered the removal of the body. Saúl stood up, as if he wished to pay his respects to that body, covered with a white sheet, being transported on a stretcher toward the door by a retinue of strangers.
Héctor observed the boy’s face and was surprised by the expression of sorrow that appeared. Unmistakable and difficult to fake. And he thought Saúl Duque might have some unusual sexual preferences, enjoy exercising mild power over a victim who offered herself to the game with the same desires, get turned on by whipping her or humiliating her … However, at the same time he was sure that this man had felt something for Amanda that not many would call love, but went further than mere pleasure.
“I’m sorry, Señor Duque, you’ll have to accompany me to the station,” Héctor told him, partly because he couldn’t be discounted as a suspect and partly because, for a moment, he feared Saúl Duque would do something terrible if they left him alone that night. Enough suicides, he thought. Real or fake. Enough deaths. “Fort, do a thorough search of the house. The bedroom above all. Prints, you know, anything …” And without Duque hearing he added, “Treat this as if it were a homicide. Three suicides is too many. Call it instinct or stubbornness, but I don’t buy it.”
Without the shops and bars that disguised its function as a simple crossroads, the terminal was becoming a silent, calm space. If the seat were more comfortable, he could almost call it cozy. Some travelers were advancing along the moving walkways, effortlessly hastening away from him in the direction of their boarding gates, like automata in a silent film. The sight calmed him after a long stressful day. A Monday that seemed neverending.
“Three suicides is too many.” Héctor repeated the sentence in front of Sílvia Alemany, who, standing in her office, had the decency to look upset.
At eight a.m., after spending the night at the station guarding Saúl Duque, he’d managed to locate a solicitor friend of his, who went through the necessary processes to send the young man home. Héctor drank a quick coffee, not hungry for breakfast, and assuaged the feeling of nausea with two cigarettes. A brief conversation with Fort, who’d already returned from the alleged suicide’s apartment, had thrown some light and further shadows on the case. If any doubt remained about the relationship linking Amanda to Saúl, the accessories found in her apartment had dispelled it completely. One of her wardrobes could have been part of a sex shop, judging by the abundance of toys: a whip, various riding crops, a fine bamboo cane, a number of leather paddles of various sizes and thicknesses, cords, handcuffs, vibrators of differing sizes, Chinese balls, lingerie and other costumes … Each to their own, but Amanda and Saúl certainly hadn’t been bored. The unanswered questions came from a different angle. Amanda’s death could be the suicide of a young woman whose sex life seemed to indicate some internal conflict. It could also be a homicide, because it was difficult to believe that someone like Amanda wouldn’t know that an entire bottle of sleeping pills would put her to sleep forever. This hypothesis was what led him, for the moment, to Saúl Duque.
Héctor decided he would be the one to bring the news of Amanda Bonet’s death to the company where she worked. He wanted to see Sílvia Alemany’s face when she found out and wanted to take advantage of the shock to catch her with her guard down. To get information out of her once and for all. But Sílvia was a tough nut to crack, as she was showing.
“I can’t believe it, Inspector.” She brought her hands to her face and seemed to sway a little. “Let me sit down. Amanda … But when? Where?”
“Last night, at home. Forensics estimate that she died between eight and nine. They found an empty bottle of sleeping pills beside her.”
Héctor spoke as coldly as possible. If he wanted to break the will of the woman before him he couldn’t pussyfoot around. And to tell the truth, he didn’t feel like being polite.
“Do you want to tell me where you were at that time?”
“At home. I was ill all weekend. But, Inspector … you don’t think that I …? Come on, that’s ridiculous.”
She flushed, more out of fear than because she felt offended, Héctor was sure.
“Right now I’m not thinking, Señora Alemany. I’m just trying to tie up loose ends. And the loose ends bring me to Gaspar Ródenas, Sara Mahler and Amanda Bonet. Three healthy young people, no apparent problems, whose only common link is their work here and this photo. You can say whatever you like; you won’t convince me you’re not hiding something from me. Not this time.”