reminded him that these were just tests, to stay calm and positive and that he could take any time off that he needed. Ramírez asked to be put to work to stop his endlessly revolving thoughts. Falcón brought him into his office, took another two aspirin and briefed him on the Vega deaths.
Perez and Ferrera turned up just after 8 a.m. The other two squad members, Baena and Serrano, were out doing a door-to-door. Falcón decided to move on two fronts. He would conduct a house search at the Vega property while Ramírez made a start on Rafael Vega's place of business, interviewing the project managers, the accountant and visiting all the construction sites. They would also have to work on finding the missing gardener, Sergei, and getting more information on the Russians seen by Pablo Ortega on La Noche de Reyes visiting the Vegas' house.
'Where do we look for Sergei?' asked Perez.
'Well, you can find out if there are any Russians or Ukrainians working on Vega's building sites and ask them, for a start. I doubt he's unique.'
'If we want to search Vega's office, from what you've said about Vázquez, we're going to need a warrant.'
'And we won't get one from a judge unless we can prove suspicious circumstances, for which we'll have to wait until we get the autopsies,' said Falcón. 'I'm going to have to take someone from Lucia's family down to the Instituto to identify the bodies. I'll pick them up probably around midday and see if that scrap of photograph we found in the barbecue means anything to any of them.'
'So until then we rely on the kindness of Sr Vázquez?' said Ramirez.
'He's already told me to talk to the accountant and given me his details,' said Falcón, who turned to Ferrera. 'Did you get anything more on those number plates?'
'What plates?' asked Ramirez.
'Somebody followed me home last night in a blue Seat Cordoba.'
'Any ideas?' asked Ramirez, while Ferrera called the traffic police.
'Too early to say, but they didn't seem too bothered by me or that I saw their plates.'
'They were reported stolen off a VW Golf in Marbella,' said Ferrera. 'Nothing more.'
Falcón and Ferrera picked up the crime scene photographs from Felipe and Jorge and went down to the car. Cristina Ferrera always dressed as if she was about to disappear without trace. She never used make-up and had one piece of jewellery: a crucifix on a chain. Her face was wide and flat with a nose that calmed the traffic of freckles across it. She had watchful brown eyes that moved slowly in her head. She made no physical impact and yet she had a strong presence which had impressed Falcón in her interview. Ramirez had passed over her photograph on the grounds of looks alone, but Falcón's curiosity was piqued. Why should an ex-nun want to become a member of a murder squad? Her prepared answer was that she wanted to be part of a group that was engaged on the side of Good against Evil. Ramirez had warned her that there was nothing theological about murder work, that in fact it was illogical – the result of breakdowns and short circuits in society – and nothing to do with chariot battles in heaven.
'The Inspector Jefe was asking for my reasons as someone who'd been thinking of becoming a nun,' she'd said, coolly. 'It was my naive belief then that the next best institution after the Church where I could do some good was the police force. My ten years on the streets of Cadiz have taught me that that is possible only on rare occasions.'
Falcón had wanted to give her the job there and then, but Ramirez wasn't finished.
'So why did you leave your vocation?'
'I met a man, Inspector. I fell pregnant, we got married and had two children.'
'In that order?' asked Ramirez, and Ferrera had nodded without taking her brown eyes off him.
So, a fallen angel, too. A Bride of Christ who'd found herself more mortal boots. Falcón had made his decision. The transfer from Cadiz had been slow but the few days she'd been with his squad had convinced him that he'd
Perez and Ferrera turned up just after 8 a.m. The other two squad members, Baena and Serrano, were out doing a door-to-door. Falcón decided to move on two fronts. He would conduct a house search at the Vega property while Ramírez made a start on Rafael Vega's place of business, interviewing the project managers, the accountant and visiting all the construction sites. They would also have to work on finding the missing gardener, Sergei, and getting more information on the Russians seen by Pablo Ortega on La Noche de Reyes visiting the Vegas' house.
'Where do we look for Sergei?' asked Perez.
'Well, you can find out if there are any Russians or Ukrainians working on Vega's building sites and ask them, for a start. I doubt he's unique.'
'If we want to search Vega's office, from what you've said about Vázquez, we're going to need a warrant.'
'And we won't get one from a judge unless we can prove suspicious circumstances, for which we'll have to wait until we get the autopsies,' said Falcón. 'I'm going to have to take someone from Lucia's family down to the Instituto to identify the bodies. I'll pick them up probably around midday and see if that scrap of photograph we found in the barbecue means anything to any of them.'
'So until then we rely on the kindness of Sr Vázquez?' said Ramirez.
'He's already told me to talk to the accountant and given me his details,' said Falcón, who turned to Ferrera. 'Did you get anything more on those number plates?'
'What plates?' asked Ramirez.
'Somebody followed me home last night in a blue Seat Cordoba.'
'Any ideas?' asked Ramirez, while Ferrera called the traffic police.
'Too early to say, but they didn't seem too bothered by me or that I saw their plates.'
'They were reported stolen off a VW Golf in Marbella,' said Ferrera. 'Nothing more.'
Falcón and Ferrera picked up the crime scene photographs from Felipe and Jorge and went down to the car. Cristina Ferrera always dressed as if she was about to disappear without trace. She never used make-up and had one piece of jewellery: a crucifix on a chain. Her face was wide and flat with a nose that calmed the traffic of freckles across it. She had watchful brown eyes that moved slowly in her head. She made no physical impact and yet she had a strong presence which had impressed Falcón in her interview. Ramirez had passed over her photograph on the grounds of looks alone, but Falcón's curiosity was piqued. Why should an ex-nun want to become a member of a murder squad? Her prepared answer was that she wanted to be part of a group that was engaged on the side of Good against Evil. Ramirez had warned her that there was nothing theological about murder work, that in fact it was illogical – the result of breakdowns and short circuits in society – and nothing to do with chariot battles in heaven.
'The Inspector Jefe was asking for my reasons as someone who'd been thinking of becoming a nun,' she'd said, coolly. 'It was my naive belief then that the next best institution after the Church where I could do some good was the police force. My ten years on the streets of Cadiz have taught me that that is possible only on rare occasions.'
Falcón had wanted to give her the job there and then, but Ramirez wasn't finished.
'So why did you leave your vocation?'
'I met a man, Inspector. I fell pregnant, we got married and had two children.'
'In that order?' asked Ramirez, and Ferrera had nodded without taking her brown eyes off him.
So, a fallen angel, too. A Bride of Christ who'd found herself more mortal boots. Falcón had made his decision. The transfer from Cadiz had been slow but the few days she'd been with his squad had convinced him that he'd
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