Both César and Brais felt like schoolboys being suddenly reprimanded by a strict tutor. “It’s not important. I thought you’d forgotten me. Now I see you haven’t.”
“I’m sorry, Octavi,” said César. “I was sure Sílvia would have told you.”
Octavi smiled, and in doing so his expression became even sharper, more tense, as if the skin of his cheeks was going to tear.
“César, César … I’m afraid I’m no longer the object of Sílvia’s devotion. Now that I think about it, I suppose she sent you. She doesn’t trust me anymore, does she?”
Brais took a step forward; not too much but enough to bridge the gap that separates a chat from a threat.
“Enough of the sarcasm, Octavi. I haven’t come here to waste my time.”
“And why have you come? To beat me up? Kill me, perhaps?”
The two were so close, and the difference between the contenders so evident, that César stepped in between them.
“Hey, enough. Octavi, no one distrusts you-”
“Tell that to this thug. You like intimidating people, do you, Brais? Does it make you feel like more of a man?”
“Octavi, please!”
The only light on the outside of the house, a cast-iron lantern hanging on a corner, illuminated the three faces. Three faces covered by masks ranging from confusion to suppressed rage, fear to indifference.
In the distance a couple of dogs howled, as if all these emotions reached them on the night air.
“Get out of here,” Octavi finally ordered. “Tell Sílvia she can relax: for the moment I have no intention of speaking to the Mossos and telling them the truth. If I’d wanted to, I’d have used this morning to do it.” He looked again at Brais, defiant, and César took a step back on seeing him take a small pistol from his anorak pocket. “Relax, I’m not going to shoot. Just so you know I’m protected.”
Brais didn’t move an inch. He held the older man’s gaze and then, with a sudden movement, he forcefully bent back Octavi’s wrist. The weapon fell to the floor and César kicked it away.
“Having a gun’s not enough to protect you, Octavi. You have to have the balls to use it as well,” Brais warned him.
The dogs stopped barking.
31
Héctor emerged from one of the station bathrooms just as Inspector Bellver was entering. Luck makes our paths cross like in a bad western, thought Salgado, although in this case we’d have already fought a duel in the town square in the blazing sun. But Barcelona wasn’t the Wild West and the duels were settled behind closed doors, with more sophisticated weapons. Anyway, thought Héctor, a part of that philosophy still holds good: with types like Bellver, it’s best not to turn your back on them.
He was going to his desk when he bumped into another, much nicer person.
“Martina …”
He hadn’t seen Sergeant Andreu since the week before. He’d hoped to speak to her on Monday, but all his plans had fallen apart with Amanda Bonet’s death. She smiled faintly by way of a greeting, but her expression immediately changed, becoming very serious.
“Come with me. We have to clear up this mess.”
Héctor didn’t have time to ask her how she’d heard about everything. It wasn’t hard to figure out: at some point on Monday afternoon or that same Tuesday morning, someone, probably Fort, would have told her. In any case, not really knowing what to expect, Héctor followed her.
Martina Andreu knocked sharply at the superintendent’s door and, without waiting for an answer, opened it and went in.
“Andreu-back already?” Savall had never bothered to hide his liking for Sergeant Andreu. “Everything all right with Calderón and his lot?”
She snorted, as if Calderón, his lot and the whole Russian mafia didn’t matter at all just then.
“All right for now.” Martina Andreu adopted a formal tone, different from her usual one behind closed doors after so many years’ working together. “Superintendent, I wish to tell you now and in the presence of Inspector Salgado that I took Ruth Valldaura’s file from Bellver’s archives myself. Without Héctor or anyone knowing.”
Savall looked at her intently. No one could have said if he doubted her word, but the sergeant’s fervor brooked no argument.
“And might one know why you did so?”
Martina hesitated for a moment, time enough for both Salgado and Savall to guess that what she would say next wouldn’t exactly be the truth and nothing but. She realized this, and before blurting out the excuse she’d thought up she just said, “No.”
From the mouth of any other of his subordinates, this refusal would have unleashed all the superintendent’s fury. But from Martina Andreu, it left him speechless.
“I will apologize to Bellver if you think it necessary.”
Savall gestured indifferently with his hand, as if linking the words “apology” and “Bellver” was absurd.
“Leave it. It would just make things worse. I’ll speak to him.” Then he turned to Héctor, who had observed the scene in silence. “Anyhow, best if you don’t have too much contact with Bellver and his team for a few days. Avoid possible encounters, okay?”
He addressed them both, but no doubt it was directed at Salgado.
“That takes two, Superintendent.”
“I know.” Savall sighed. “Well, we’ll leave it there for now. Héctor, how’s the cosmetics lab case going?”
“If you’re going to talk about that, I’ll leave you to it,” said the sergeant.
“Ask Fort to come here, please,” Salgado ordered. “He went to interview Pujades this morning and I still haven’t had a chance to speak to him, though I’m almost certain he hasn’t got anything out of him.”
“I’ll send him to you straightaway. But treat him well, okay? Take it easy on him or I’ll take revenge.”
She smiled, and the camaraderie that had always reigned between them previously suddenly returned.
“We’ll talk later, Andreu,” said Savall. “You need to tell me how you made out over there.”
A good while later, Savall and Salgado were still discussing the suicides case under the attentive gaze of Agent Fort, too timid to intervene if not asked a direct question.
“Let’s see,” said the superintendent in an attempt to recap, “up to now, were it not that these people have the same place of work, we’d have three cases of suicide, or even one-and I’m referring to Amanda Bonet-which could be classed as accidental death.”
Salgado shook his head.
“She took a lot of sleeping pills, Superintendent. And according to her lover, it wasn’t the first time they enjoyed those ‘games,’ as he calls them.”
“All right then, three suicides.”
“Three suicides but five victims,” Salgado pointed out. “Ródenas’s wife and daughter-don’t forget them.”
“How could you forget them?” Savall was quiet for a moment, putting his thoughts in order. “Let’s start at the beginning. Gaspar Ródenas. Recently promoted, worried about said promotion, though with no other known issues.”
“True. His case was included in crimes of domestic violence, but there were never reports made by his wife or the least suggestion of ill-treatment in the family environment.”
“Nevertheless, Ródenas did buy a pistol, didn’t he?”
“He did. But that weapon could have been to kill his family, then commit suicide, or to protect himself and those around him,” Héctor pointed out.
Savall nodded.
“It’s a possibility. However, in that case we’re dealing with a ruthless killer. A killer who didn’t hesitate in killing a little girl only months old so that the crime scene would appear like an extreme case of domestic violence. Do you really believe you have someone like that among the suspects?”
He recalled the faces of the Alemany Cosmetics employees: Sílvia, César Calvo, Brais Arjona, Manel Caballero …