make contact with you?’
The grey-blue eyes opened wide, as if to reveal the absolute transparency of Adela Vilardell’s body and soul as she answered:
‘No.’
The ‘no’ had faltered slightly as the air rose from her flat chest.
‘You see how it was. Years and years of a relationship, and then nothing.’
She waited for Carvalho to make some observation. But when he remained silent, she added:
‘Absolutely nothing. Sometimes I thought: “What can this man be doing …? Why doesn’t he get in touch with me?” ’
‘Why did you think that? Didn’t you think he was in the South Seas?’
‘I was in that part of the world myself, once, and I know that they have postboxes! I’ve posted cards there myself.’
‘It didn’t take you long to find a replacement for Stuart Pedrell …’
‘Are you asking me or telling me?’
Carvalho shrugged.
‘Why does my private life interest you so much?’
‘Normally, it wouldn’t. Not at all. But now it may have somebearing on my work. You were seen recently in black motorcycle gear, riding a powerful Harley Davidson. You were with a male lookalike on an equally powerful Harley Davidson.’
‘So, I like motorbikes …’
‘Who’s the rider you go with?’
‘How did you find out about all this?’
‘It may seem hard to believe, but you people don’t have private lives. Everything about you is common knowledge.’
‘What do you mean by “you people”?’
‘You know very well. All I have to do is knock on the door of someone who has even a half-acquaintance with you, and they know all there is to know. For instance, is the bowler-hat story true?’
‘Which story?’
‘Is it true that Stuart Pedrell arranged to meet you some years ago in a London park? And that he turned up as a City gent, bowler hat and all?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘So, will you tell me the name of the rider?’
‘You must know already.’
‘I do.’
‘Well then.’
Biscuter was sitting in the corner, on the edge of a chair. As soon as he saw Carvalho arrive, he jumped up.
‘There’s this girl waiting to see you, boss.’
‘So I see.’
Carvalho slipped a glance at Yes and ignored her movementtowards him. His mission accomplished, Biscuter disappeared behind the curtain. Carvalho sat in his revolving chair and contemplated Yes’s frozen gesture in the middle of the room.
‘Are you annoyed that I’ve come here?’
‘Annoyed isn’t the word.’
‘After you left, I started thinking. I don’t want to go back home.’
‘That’s your business.’
‘Can I stay at your place?’
‘No.’
‘Just for two or three days.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘My duties as your mother’s employee and your companion in bed go only so far.’
‘Why do you always have to talk like a private detective? Why can’t you say normal things, give normal excuses? That you’re expecting relatives, or that you don’t have room?’
‘Take it or leave it. I’m sorry. Anyway, it’s bad to see each other so often. I’m planning to have a quiet meal here, by myself. I wasn’t thinking of inviting you.’
‘I’m lonely.’
‘Me too. Please, Jésica. Don’t use me up all at once. Keep me for when you really need me. I’ve got work to do. Go away.’
She didn’t know how to go. She gesticulated with sadness, whilst looking for the door.
‘I’ll kill myself.’
‘That would be a pity. But I don’t prevent suicides. I only investigate them.’
Carvalho busied himself opening and closing drawers, putting his desk in order, and making a phone call. Yes closed the door gently behind her. Her exit coincided with Biscuter’s reappearance, ladle in hand.
‘You were too hard on her, boss. She’s a decent kid, even ifshe is a bit loopy. Do you know what she asked me? If I’ve killed anyone. And then she asked whether you have.’
‘What did you say?’
‘What do you think? But she went on asking questions. She never stopped. Don’t worry. I kept mum.
The grey-blue eyes opened wide, as if to reveal the absolute transparency of Adela Vilardell’s body and soul as she answered:
‘No.’
The ‘no’ had faltered slightly as the air rose from her flat chest.
‘You see how it was. Years and years of a relationship, and then nothing.’
She waited for Carvalho to make some observation. But when he remained silent, she added:
‘Absolutely nothing. Sometimes I thought: “What can this man be doing …? Why doesn’t he get in touch with me?” ’
‘Why did you think that? Didn’t you think he was in the South Seas?’
‘I was in that part of the world myself, once, and I know that they have postboxes! I’ve posted cards there myself.’
‘It didn’t take you long to find a replacement for Stuart Pedrell …’
‘Are you asking me or telling me?’
Carvalho shrugged.
‘Why does my private life interest you so much?’
‘Normally, it wouldn’t. Not at all. But now it may have somebearing on my work. You were seen recently in black motorcycle gear, riding a powerful Harley Davidson. You were with a male lookalike on an equally powerful Harley Davidson.’
‘So, I like motorbikes …’
‘Who’s the rider you go with?’
‘How did you find out about all this?’
‘It may seem hard to believe, but you people don’t have private lives. Everything about you is common knowledge.’
‘What do you mean by “you people”?’
‘You know very well. All I have to do is knock on the door of someone who has even a half-acquaintance with you, and they know all there is to know. For instance, is the bowler-hat story true?’
‘Which story?’
‘Is it true that Stuart Pedrell arranged to meet you some years ago in a London park? And that he turned up as a City gent, bowler hat and all?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘So, will you tell me the name of the rider?’
‘You must know already.’
‘I do.’
‘Well then.’
Biscuter was sitting in the corner, on the edge of a chair. As soon as he saw Carvalho arrive, he jumped up.
‘There’s this girl waiting to see you, boss.’
‘So I see.’
Carvalho slipped a glance at Yes and ignored her movementtowards him. His mission accomplished, Biscuter disappeared behind the curtain. Carvalho sat in his revolving chair and contemplated Yes’s frozen gesture in the middle of the room.
‘Are you annoyed that I’ve come here?’
‘Annoyed isn’t the word.’
‘After you left, I started thinking. I don’t want to go back home.’
‘That’s your business.’
‘Can I stay at your place?’
‘No.’
‘Just for two or three days.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘My duties as your mother’s employee and your companion in bed go only so far.’
‘Why do you always have to talk like a private detective? Why can’t you say normal things, give normal excuses? That you’re expecting relatives, or that you don’t have room?’
‘Take it or leave it. I’m sorry. Anyway, it’s bad to see each other so often. I’m planning to have a quiet meal here, by myself. I wasn’t thinking of inviting you.’
‘I’m lonely.’
‘Me too. Please, Jésica. Don’t use me up all at once. Keep me for when you really need me. I’ve got work to do. Go away.’
She didn’t know how to go. She gesticulated with sadness, whilst looking for the door.
‘I’ll kill myself.’
‘That would be a pity. But I don’t prevent suicides. I only investigate them.’
Carvalho busied himself opening and closing drawers, putting his desk in order, and making a phone call. Yes closed the door gently behind her. Her exit coincided with Biscuter’s reappearance, ladle in hand.
‘You were too hard on her, boss. She’s a decent kid, even ifshe is a bit loopy. Do you know what she asked me? If I’ve killed anyone. And then she asked whether you have.’
‘What did you say?’
‘What do you think? But she went on asking questions. She never stopped. Don’t worry. I kept mum.
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