of my brother’s clothes. The body’s with the undertakers …’
‘Of course, come in,’ said Caldas, so that she wouldn’t have to say anything more. He stood aside to let her in. ‘I’ve just got here. I was looking around.’
Alicia Castelo went to the bedroom. She opened the wardrobe, took a pair of dark-blue trousers from a hanger and laid them on the bed. She was weeping bitterly as she took a white shirt from a drawer, and Caldas returned to the living room.
On the shelf unit he found a framed newspaper cutting, dating from the previous November. It recounted how a fisherman had caught a species of tropical fish near Panxón that had never before been found off the coast of Galicia. The newspaper attributed the unusual find to the water temperature, which had been several degrees higher than usual for the time of year. In the accompanying photograph, Justo Castelo was smiling broadly, holding up an almost spherical fish dangling from a hook.
‘It was his moment of fame.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Caldas turned to see Alicia Castelo carrying her brother’s clothes draped over one arm. In her other hand she held a pair of shoes almost as shiny as Estevez’s.
‘Everyone saw that photo. They even came to interview him forthe TV. Justo was so nervous he could hardly speak,’ she said, smiling and sniffing.
Caldas swallowed.
‘Have you and your mother managed to get any sleep?’
‘Not really,’ said El Rubio’s sister. ‘The funeral’s this afternoon.’
‘I know. I saw the death notice on the door to the fish market just now.’
Alicia Castelo closed her blue eyes for a few seconds.
‘Have you been able to find out anything, Inspector?’
‘It’s still too soon to say,’ replied Caldas, replacing the framed cutting about the sunfish on the shelf. ‘Did he own this house?’
‘Why do you ask?’ replied the woman.
‘They could build an apartment block here.’
‘Justo didn’t want to sell.’
‘Did anyone ever make him an offer?’
Alicia Castelo looked up at the ceiling.
‘Plenty of people, Inspector. But my brother couldn’t be bought. He just wanted a quiet life. Fishing is hard work but he enjoyed it. And he had very modest needs. When he wasn’t at sea he could spend hours in his shed,’ she said, gesturing towards the patio with the hand holding the shoes, ‘just pottering.’
‘I wanted to have a look around in there but it’s locked. I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare key?’
‘No, I’ve only got one for the front door. But there’s just a load of junk in there, Inspector. Old boat engines and bits and pieces like that. My mother says Justo only fixes useless stuff.’
Caldas smiled thinly. ‘How is she?’
‘Not too good,’ she sighed. ‘She can’t stop crying and she hasn’t eaten a thing since she got the news. I don’t know how she’s going to react when she finds out his hands were tied.’
‘Don’t tell her.’
Alicia Castelo looked at him just like his father did when he couldn’t tell
albariño
from
treixadura
grapes.
‘It’s hard to keep anything secret in a small village, Inspector.’
‘Right,’ said Caldas laconically, and returned to the subject of people keen to purchase the house. ‘Do you know if he’d received an offer for the house recently?’
She shook her head, swinging her blonde ponytail.
‘He may have done, Inspector. I don’t really know. Justo didn’t talk much.’
‘Maybe he mentioned it to your mother, or to a friend.’
Again Alicia shook her head. ‘Justo didn’t have friends.’
‘Never?’
‘Years ago,’ she began, and went on to tell him what he already knew: ‘When he got clean, he had several stints working on a fishing boat, the
Xurelo
. They would spend two or three days at a time out at sea. His crewmates were the only friends I ever remember him having. Justo was happy, but …’
‘But?’ Caldas prompted, keen to hear her version of events.
‘Haven’t you been told anything
‘Of course, come in,’ said Caldas, so that she wouldn’t have to say anything more. He stood aside to let her in. ‘I’ve just got here. I was looking around.’
Alicia Castelo went to the bedroom. She opened the wardrobe, took a pair of dark-blue trousers from a hanger and laid them on the bed. She was weeping bitterly as she took a white shirt from a drawer, and Caldas returned to the living room.
On the shelf unit he found a framed newspaper cutting, dating from the previous November. It recounted how a fisherman had caught a species of tropical fish near Panxón that had never before been found off the coast of Galicia. The newspaper attributed the unusual find to the water temperature, which had been several degrees higher than usual for the time of year. In the accompanying photograph, Justo Castelo was smiling broadly, holding up an almost spherical fish dangling from a hook.
‘It was his moment of fame.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Caldas turned to see Alicia Castelo carrying her brother’s clothes draped over one arm. In her other hand she held a pair of shoes almost as shiny as Estevez’s.
‘Everyone saw that photo. They even came to interview him forthe TV. Justo was so nervous he could hardly speak,’ she said, smiling and sniffing.
Caldas swallowed.
‘Have you and your mother managed to get any sleep?’
‘Not really,’ said El Rubio’s sister. ‘The funeral’s this afternoon.’
‘I know. I saw the death notice on the door to the fish market just now.’
Alicia Castelo closed her blue eyes for a few seconds.
‘Have you been able to find out anything, Inspector?’
‘It’s still too soon to say,’ replied Caldas, replacing the framed cutting about the sunfish on the shelf. ‘Did he own this house?’
‘Why do you ask?’ replied the woman.
‘They could build an apartment block here.’
‘Justo didn’t want to sell.’
‘Did anyone ever make him an offer?’
Alicia Castelo looked up at the ceiling.
‘Plenty of people, Inspector. But my brother couldn’t be bought. He just wanted a quiet life. Fishing is hard work but he enjoyed it. And he had very modest needs. When he wasn’t at sea he could spend hours in his shed,’ she said, gesturing towards the patio with the hand holding the shoes, ‘just pottering.’
‘I wanted to have a look around in there but it’s locked. I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare key?’
‘No, I’ve only got one for the front door. But there’s just a load of junk in there, Inspector. Old boat engines and bits and pieces like that. My mother says Justo only fixes useless stuff.’
Caldas smiled thinly. ‘How is she?’
‘Not too good,’ she sighed. ‘She can’t stop crying and she hasn’t eaten a thing since she got the news. I don’t know how she’s going to react when she finds out his hands were tied.’
‘Don’t tell her.’
Alicia Castelo looked at him just like his father did when he couldn’t tell
albariño
from
treixadura
grapes.
‘It’s hard to keep anything secret in a small village, Inspector.’
‘Right,’ said Caldas laconically, and returned to the subject of people keen to purchase the house. ‘Do you know if he’d received an offer for the house recently?’
She shook her head, swinging her blonde ponytail.
‘He may have done, Inspector. I don’t really know. Justo didn’t talk much.’
‘Maybe he mentioned it to your mother, or to a friend.’
Again Alicia shook her head. ‘Justo didn’t have friends.’
‘Never?’
‘Years ago,’ she began, and went on to tell him what he already knew: ‘When he got clean, he had several stints working on a fishing boat, the
Xurelo
. They would spend two or three days at a time out at sea. His crewmates were the only friends I ever remember him having. Justo was happy, but …’
‘But?’ Caldas prompted, keen to hear her version of events.
‘Haven’t you been told anything
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