The Silent and the Damned aka The Vanished Hands

'That's not what concerns me,' she said. 'Why was Pablo Ortega so angry?'

'He was furious at Juez Calderón…'

'So he was the judge on Sebastián Ortega's case as well?'

'You found me out.'

'I thought there was something more complicated at work there.'

'If there is, I don't know what it is.'

'I remember you saying while you were investigating the Jiménez murder that you liked Juez Calderón. You told me that he was one of the first people you'd considered a possible friend since your training in Barcelona.'

'That was before I knew he was seeing Inés.'

Her fingers jumped off his pulse as he said her name.

'Has something happened with Inés?'

'Yesterday he told me they were getting married,' said Falcón. 'I nearly called you.'

'We've dealt with Inés.'

'I thought we had.' 'You were expecting them to get married, ' said Alicia Aguado. 'And you told me that you'd accepted it.'

'The concept, yes.'

'And the reality was different?'

'I was surprised at how bitterly disappointed I was by the news.'

'You'll get over it.'

'That's why I didn't call you,' said Falcón. 'But just before I came out to see you this evening I found a photograph of her stuck up on the noticeboard above my desk with a red pin through her throat.'

Silence. Falcón thought he felt Alicia shiver.

'Did you stick it up there?' she asked.

'That's what concerns me,' said Falcón. 'I don't know.'

'Do you think you might have done it subconsciously?' asked Aguado.

'I don't even recognize the photograph.'

'What about the other prints?'

'I bought a digital camera last week. Work has been slack until yesterday and I've been out on the streets taking snaps, getting used to the technology and then downloading stuff on to the computer, erasing shots, printing out others, throwing some stuff away. You know, playing around with it. So… I… I just can't be certain. Maybe I did snap her without realizing it. We don't live that far from each other. I see her occasionally in the street, as you do in Seville.'

'How else could it have got on to your noticeboard?'

'I don't know. I did get very drunk last night and passed out…'

'You shouldn't let this worry you,' said Aguado.

'But what do you think it means?' said Falcón. 'I don't like the idea that my mind is operating independently of me. This was what was happening to one of the victims in my investigation.'

Falcón explained Vega's bizarre note, how he'd traced over it.

'The positive side of this incident is that it seems to indicate that by pinning Inés by her throat to your board you're releasing yourself from this hold you believe she has over you.'

'Well, that's one interpretation,' said Falcón. 'There could be some darker ones.'

'Don't dwell on it. You're on the move. Keep up the momentum.'

'All right, let's talk about something else – Sebastián Ortega. What do you think about his behaviour, psychologically? Why did he do what he did?'

'I'd need to know a lot more about him and the case before I ventured an opinion on that.'

'My theory is that he was reliving an ideal,' said Falcón. 'He was being to the boy what he'd wanted his father to be to him.'

'I can't comment.'

'I'm not asking you for a serious professional opinion.'

'And I don't give amateur ones.'

'OK, so what shall we talk about that's not Inés?'

'Talk to me some more about Juez Calderón.'

'I don't know what I think about him any more,' he said. 'I'm confused. Initially I was attracted by his intelligence and sensitivity. Then I found out that he had a relationship with Inés, which I couldn't and can't talk about with him. Now they're getting married. I've watched his star consistently rising, but then I hear from others that it's vanity propelling this trajectory…'

'I think you missed something out.'

'I don't think so.'

'Has Juez Calderón done something to you?'

'Not to me,' said Falcón. 'I can't talk about it yet.'

'Not even to your clinical psychologist, who you've been seeing for over a year?'

'No… not yet. I can't be certain about it,' said Falcón. 'It could have just been a moment's madness, now forgotten, or there could be clearer intent.'

'To do someone wrong?'

'Not wrong exactly… although it would be wrong,' said Falcón. 'All I can promise you is that it has nothing to do with me.'

The appointment finished soon after. Before walking Javier to the door she deviated to a cabinet, fumbled around and took out a dictaphone.

'I don't mind thinking about Sebastián Ortega for you,' she said. 'My summer is quiet. Since my blindness has become complete I've been getting agoraphobic. The idea of hundreds of people on the beach, and me amongst them, makes me feel nervous. I'm staying in town, despite the heat. Put everything you know down on tape and I'll listen to it.'

She gave him the dictaphone and some tapes. Javier shook her cool white hand, their professional relationship never having got beyond this formality, apart from some madness on his part in the early stages of treatment. But this time she pulled him to her and kissed him on both cheeks.

'Good night, Javier,' she said, as he walked down the stairs. 'And remember: the important thing is that you're a good man.'

Falcón left the coolness of her consulting room and stepped into the thick heat in the street. He walked and did what Alicia had told him not to do. He dwelt on that photograph of Inés pinned to his board. Without thinking, he crossed a road and found himself in front of the Old Tobacco Factory, which had now been incorporated into the university. He'd overshot the Edificio de los Juzgados where he'd parked the car. He crossed Avenida del Cid and backtracked through the walkways of the Palacio de Justicia. Someone called his name. The sound of the voice was like a woman's hands coming up his chest from behind. The skipping heels on the pavement told him before he'd turned that he was going to see Inés.

'Congratulations,' he said, his lips fluffing the word.

She looked blank as they kissed hello.

'Esteban told me yesterday,' said Falcón.

She put her hand to her mouth as if that would obscure her memory struggle and then rolled her eyes.

'I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking,' she said. 'Thank you, Javier.'

'I'm very happy for you,' he said. 'Isn't it a bit late for you to be working?'

'Esteban told me to meet him here at 9.30. Have you seen him today?' she asked.

'He postponed our meeting until tomorrow.'

'He's always here at this time of night. I don't know what could…'

'What did the security guard say?'

'That he left at six and hasn't been back.'

'You've tried his mobile?'

'It's switched off. He switches it off all the time now. Too many people want to talk to him,' she said.

'Well… can I give you a lift somewhere?'

Inés left a message with the security guard and they got into Falcón's car. They drove down Cristobal Colón and agreed to have a tapa in El Cairo on Reyes Catolicos.

They sat at the bar and ordered beers and a tapa of piquillo peppers stuffed with hake. He asked her about the wedding. She spoke with her mind only half on the job, looking at every face that walked by the window. Falcón sipped his beer and murmured encouragement until she turned on him and gripped his knee with her long white manicured nails.

'Has he been all right?' she asked. 'You know… in his work.'

'I don't know. I've been working this case with him out in Santa Clara, but only since yesterday.'

'Santa Clara?'

'At the end of Avenida de Kansas City.'

'I know where Santa Clara is,' she said, annoyed, but her irritation instantly broke and she was staring at him with her big brown eyes in the way that she did when she wanted something. 'He said… he said…'