The Altogether Unexpected Disappearance of Atticus Craftsman by Mamen Sánchez

made their way single file up the two flights of stairs that separated them from Atticus Craftsman’s flat.
    â€œHe’s a young man,” the old lady explained as they went up. “And it’s strange,” she continued. “He took the place before the summer, spent a couple of nights here, and then disappeared. We haven’t seen him since May.”
    The door was open, pulled off its hinges, mangled. Useless shit of a locksmith , thought Manchego. The light was on.
    The flat smelled as if it hadn’t been aired in a long while. It felt as if no one had opened the windows for months. The blinds were closed and the furniture was covered in a thin layer of dust.
    On a wooden table, the only one in the flat, there was a pile of books, papers, folders, and other jumbled documents. It looked as if someone had been working on them but had left in a hurry.
    As for the rest of it, there were no signs of violence. The bed was made, the fridge was empty, the inspector didn’t find a single body decomposing in a single wardrobe, no suicide note, no leadsas to the whereabouts of the mystery tenant who, according to his elderly neighbor, had paid six months up front and his contract was almost up.
    â€œI’d like to talk to the owner of the property.”
    â€œThat’s me,” replied the neighbor. “How else do you think I know about the rent? My son Gabriel uses the flat, but he’s in London at the moment. He works for a bank.”
    Manchego scratched the back of his neck.
    â€œI see.”
    â€œMy late husband and I bought it, for our boy, you see.”
    â€œAnd how did you meet the tenant?” He was about to say Craftsman’s name but stopped himself just in time. Doing so would have raised suspicions. He was supposedly there due to the purest coincidence and, as such, he needed to feign ignorance.
    â€œMy friend Berta Quiñones recommended him to me,” the housewife replied. “She’s a lovely girl who lives next door, at number 9.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œHe’s English,” she added. “Tall, blond, very handsome. Seems very young to be Berta’s boss.”
    â€œWe shall have to inform him of the break-in,” said the inspector in the hope that the woman could put him on the trail of his missing person.
    â€œThe thing is, we don’t know where he’s gone,” she confessed. “Neither Berta nor I have seen him.”
    â€œHe didn’t give you an address or telephone number?”
    â€œNo. He didn’t even say goodbye.”
    â€œI see.”
    Inspector Manchego spent another hour checking the flat. He went room by room—kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room—openingdrawers and closing doors but finding no evidence that could further his investigation. The conclusion he came to was simple: Craftsman had rented it with the intention of staying there for at least six months but had spent only two or three nights. Wherever it was he had gone, he had taken his toiletries and all his clothes with him, with the exception of two pairs of woolen socks and an overcoat that was still on a hanger in the wardrobe, but he had left behind a pile of papers that, as far as Manchego could see, related to Librarte magazine’s finances.
    In other words, Craftsman had gone on a personal trip, since he had taken his cologne but left his work papers behind. This made Manchego think that the Englishman must have been planning on returning to Madrid to carry on with his work before long. And that didn’t tally with his having disappeared for more than six months.
    So Marlow might be right after all: Atticus Craftsman had been kidnapped, and Manchego had to admit that there was genuinely nothing to connect him to drug trafficking.
    â€œ Not in the house, míster ,” he would say over the phone as soon as it got light. “ Not muerto in the house. ”

CHAPTER 20
    B erta remembered it perfectly