Felipe handed over the letters to Falcón unopened in evidence bags. The ambulancemen chipped away at the ceiling until they found a reinforced concrete beam and started drilling. Falcón took the letters into the sitting room to read. Ferrera hadn't found the mobile. He sent her out to speak to the neighbours to see what
Ortega's movements had been in the last twenty-four hours.
PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL
27th July 2002
Dear Javier,
I think you must have realized now that I chose you and I am sorry if this has upset you. You are the professional and, as I said, I like you and I want this, the last scene of my final act, to pass safely into your hands.
Just in case there is some doubt, or some opportunistic burglar has happened on the scene and messed up my tragedy, I would like to declare unequivocally that I have taken my own life. This was not a snap decision. It was certainly not provoked by any recent developments but is a culmination of events. I have come to the end of my road and found it a cul- de-sac, with no possibility of retracing my steps and doing all the things that I should have done. It was a dead end with only one exit and I chose it with clear eyes, if not a clear conscience.
My reasons for having taken my own life are the only reasons a suicide can have. I am weak and I am selfish. I have neglected my son. This has been the stamp of all my family and personal relationships and has happened probably because I am consumed by vanity. The reward for this is my loneliness. My son is in prison. My family have grown tired of me. My community has thrown me out. My profession has shunned me. Vanity, in case you do not know this, requires an audience. Life inside my bubble has become intolerable. I have no one to perform to and therefore I am no one.
It probably seems absurd that someone of my fame and in my comfortable circumstances should have chosen this end. I can feel myself on the brink of a long and rambling explanation, but it would only be the Torre Muga speaking. My apologies for the inconvenience, Javier. Please give the other letter to my son, Sebastián. I hope you succeed in helping him where I have so singularly failed.
Con un abrazo,
Pablo Ortega
PS I never showed you my collection. Please enjoy it at your leisure.
PPS Please inform my brother, Ignacio. His number is in the address book on the kitchen table.
Falcón read the letter through several times until his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an electric winch. He stood at the door as Ortega's stained and bloated body emerged from under the floor. The masked ambulancemen pulled him away from over the hole and lowered him on to the concrete. He had a large flat rock taped to his chest and another one shoved down his blue shorts. Falcón called in the Médico Forense and asked Felipe to take more shots.
He went to sit with Alicia Aguado and read her Ortega's letter.
'I don't think he's as drunk as he makes out.'
'There were three empty bottles of Muga in there.'
'They weren't inside him when he wrote this letter,' she said. 'He's stated his guilt, but he's been very careful not to admit to anything. The denial that his suicide has anything to do with "recent developments" seems to be important. He is in denial. He cannot face up to whatever it is that he believes will be revealed by these recent developments.'
'The only recent developments I know about are Rafael Vega's death and me volunteering to help his son.'
Cristina Ferrera came back from talking to the few neighbours she could find. Ortega had walked his dogs yesterday morning. He'd been out in his car twice at about 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. Both trips were for about an hour and a half each.
'Would you bother to walk your dogs if you were going to kill them?' asked Falcón.
'It seems to have been a routine,' said Ferrera. 'His neighbour walked his dog at the same time. And even condemned men get fed and exercised.'
'Killing them is to do with his admitted selfishness and vanity. They were a part of him, only he knew how to love them,' said Alicia Aguado. 'You saw him yesterday morning before he went out, Javier. What did you talk about then?'
'I was interested in his relationship with Rafael Vega, how he knew him, whether he'd met him through Raúl Jiménez and whether he knew any of the people around those men. I had a photograph of him with some people at a party which seemed to unnerve him. I also talked to him about his son's case. Then 1 left, but – no, that's not quite right. He told me about a recurring dream, then I left, but I came back to ask him about something I'd forgotten and I saw him sink to his knees in the garden, weeping.'
Alicia Aguado asked about the dream and he described Ortega's vision of himself in a field with his hurting hands.
'I read your report of your first meeting,' said Ferrera. 'He was very different then.'
'Yes, he was much more the actor. Most of that interview was performance,' said Falcón. 'He was more serious in subsequent talks. The pressure was building.'
'What were you being accusatory about, Javier?' asked Aguado.
'I don't want to talk about it until I've got it clear in my mind,' he said. 'I've got a lot more work to do on that.'
Jorge called Falcón over for a crime scene conference. They were convinced it was suicide. They had found nothing to lead them to believe it happened any other way. Ortega's fingerprints were over everything. Juan Romero asked the Médico Forense for his opinion.
'Time of death was about 3 a.m. Cause was drowning. There was a single mark on his forehead which probably happened as he fell into the hole. My pre-lab inspection verdict is that he committed suicide.'
Juez Romero signed off the levantamiento del cadáver. Falcón told him that he would inform the next of kin as the dead man had requested. The paramedics removed the body and those of the two dogs. Felipe and Jorge left. Falcón told Ferrera to follow up on the phone numbers on Monday and let her go. He went to the kitchen, found the address book and called Ignacio Ortega on his mobile, which was turned off. He told Romero they would delay telling the press about Ortega's death until his brother had been informed.
The ambulance and cars moved off towards Avenida de Kansas City. A patrol car remained with an officer to keep an eye on the house. The news announcement of Ortega's death might arouse public interest. Falcón offered to take Alicia Aguado home but she was keen to hear a description of the Ortega collection mentioned in the suicide letter.
The collection, which Ortega had moved into the living room when the cesspit cracked, was distributed around one end of the room, the small pieces on tables, the bigger carvings on the floor and the paintings leaning up against the walls. There was a sheet of paper taped to an antique table in the living room listing all the pieces in the collection with their purchase dates and prices. Falcón ran his eye down the eighteen pieces on the list to the Francisco Falcón painting he'd seen on his first visit.
'This is interesting,' he said. 'Ortega bought the Francisco Falcón painting on 15th May 2001. That was after he'd been revealed as a fraud. And he picked it up for a quarter of a million pesetas.'
'What did they used to sell for?'
'He'd have had to pay around two million,' said Falcón. 'It was a good buy because they've come back up again now. The old-fashioned collectors wanted to get rid of everything they had by Francisco Falcón when the news first broke. But now there's a different market for the work. They're a sort of post-modern crowd who have a new take on "What is real art?" Between them and the infamy hunters and the celebrity criminal ghouls they've rebuilt the price.'