‘Did Irene say who that someone was?’

‘She’d never seen him. Marlasca didn’t let her. But she knew that he was afraid.’

‘Afraid of what?’

Roures clicked his tongue.

‘Marlasca thought that he was cursed.’

‘Can you explain?’

‘I’ve already told you. He was ill. He was convinced that something had got inside him.’

‘Something?’

‘A spirit. A parasite. I don’t know. Look, in this business you get to know a lot of people who are not exactly in their right mind. A personal tragedy hits them: they lose a lover or a fortune and they fall down the hole. The brain is the most fragile organ in the body. Señor Marlasca was not of sound mind; anyone could see that after talking to him for five minutes. That’s why he came to me.’

‘And you told him what he wanted to hear.’

‘No. I told him the truth.’

‘Your truth?’

‘The only truth I know. I thought he was seriously unbalanced and I didn’t want to take advantage of him. That sort of thing never ends well. In this business there is a line you don’t cross, if you know what’s good for you. We offer our services to people who come to us looking for a bit of fun, or some excitement and comfort from the world beyond, and we charge accordingly. But anyone who seems to be on the verge of losing their mind, we send home. It is a show like any other. What you want are spectators, not visionaries.’

‘Exemplary ethics. So, what did you say to Marlasca?’

‘I told him it was all a load of mumbo-jumbo. I told him I was a trickster who made a living organising seances for poor devils who had lost their loved ones and needed to believe that lovers, parents and friends were waiting for them in the next world. I told him there was nothing on the other side, just a giant void, and this world was all we had. I told him to forget about the spirits and return to his family.’

‘And he believed you?’

‘Obviously not. He stopped coming to the sessions and looked elsewhere for help.’

‘Where?’

‘Irene had grown up in the shacks of Bogatell beach and although she’d made a name for herself dancing and acting in the clubs on the Paralelo, she still belonged to that place. She told me she’d taken Marlasca to see a woman they called the Witch of Somorrostro, to ask for protection from the person to whom Marlasca was indebted.’

‘Did Irene mention the name of that person?’

‘If she did I can’t remember. As I said, they’d stopped coming to the seances.’

‘Andreas Corelli?’

‘I’ve never heard that name.’

‘Where can I find Irene Sabino?’

‘I’ve already told you all I know,’ Roures replied, exasperated.

‘One last question and I’ll go.’

‘Let’s see if that’s true.’

‘Do you remember ever hearing Marlasca mention something called Lux Aeterna?’

Roures frowned, shaking his head.

‘Thanks for you help.’

‘You’re welcome. And if at all possible don’t come back.’

I nodded and walked off towards the exit, Roures’s eyes following me distrustfully.

‘Wait,’ he called suddenly.

I turned round. The little man observed me, hesitating.

‘I seem to remember that Lux Aeterna was the name of some sort of religious pamphlet we sometimes used in the sessions in Calle Elisabets. It was part of a collection of similar books, probably loaned to us by the Afterlife Society, which had a library specialising in the occult. I don’t know if that’s what you’re referring to.’

‘Do you remember what the pamphlet was about?’

‘The person who was most familiar with it was my partner, Jaco – he managed the seances. But I seem to recall that Lux Aeterna was a poem about death and the seven names of the Son of Morning, Bringer of Light.’

‘Bringer of Light?’

Roures smiled.

‘Lucifer.’

33

When I left the shop I returned home, wondering what to do next. I was approaching the entrance to Calle Moncada when I saw him. Inspector Grandes was leaning against a wall and enjoying a cigarette. He smiled at me and waved and I crossed the street towards him.

‘I didn’t know you were interested in magic, Martín.’

‘Nor did I know that you were following me, inspector.’

‘I’m not following you. It’s just that you’re a difficult man to find and I decided that if the mountain wouldn’t come to me, I’d go to the mountain. Do you have five minutes to spare, for a drink? It’s on police headquarters.’

‘In that case… No chaperones today?’

‘Marcos and Castelo stayed behind doing paperwork, but if I’d told them I was coming to see you, I’m sure they’d have volunteered.’

We walked through the canyon of old palaces until we reached the Xampañet Tavern, where we found a table at the far end. A waiter, armed with a mop that stank of bleach, stared at us and Grandes asked for a couple of beers and a tapa of Manchego cheese. When the beers and the snack arrived, the inspector offered me the plate. I declined.

‘Do you mind? I’m always starving at this time of day.’

‘Bon appétit.’

Grandes wolfed down the cubes of cheese and licked his lips.

‘Didn’t anyone tell you that I came by your house yesterday?’

’I didn’t get the message until later.’

‘I understand. Hey, she’s gorgeous, the girl. What’s her name?’

‘Isabella.’

‘You rascal, some people have all the luck. I envy you. How old is the little sweetheart?’

I threw him a toxic look. The inspector smiled, obviously pleased.

‘A little bird told me you’ve been playing at detectives lately. Aren’t you going to leave anything to the professionals?’

‘What’s your little bird’s name?’

‘He’s more of a big bird. One of my superiors is a close friend of Valera, the lawyer.’

‘Are you also on the payroll?’

‘Not yet, my friend. You know me. I’m of the old school. Honour and all that shit.’

‘A shame.’

‘And tell me, how is poor Ricardo Salvador? Do you know? I haven’t heard that name for over twenty years. Everyone assumed he was dead.’

‘A premature diagnosis.’

‘And how is he?’

‘Alone, betrayed and forgotten.’

The inspector nodded slowly. ‘Makes one think of the future in this job, doesn’t it?’

‘I bet that in your case things will be different, and your promotion to the top is just a question of a couple of years. I can just imagine you as chief commissioner before the age of forty-five, kissing the hands of bishops and generals during the Corpus parade.’

Grandes ignored my sarcasm.

‘Speaking of hand-kissing, have you heard about your friend Vidal?’

Grandes never started a conversation without having an ace hidden up his sleeve. He watched me with a smile, relishing my anxiety.

‘What about him?’ I mumbled.

‘They say his wife tried to kill herself the other night.’

‘Cristina?’

‘Of course, you know her…’

I didn’t realise that I’d stood up and my hands were shaking.

‘Calm down. Señora de Vidal is all right. Just a fright. It seems that she overdid it with the laudanum. Will you sit down, Martín? Please.’

I sat down. My stomach was a bag of nails.

‘When was this?’

‘Two or three days ago.’

My mind filled with the image of Cristina in the window of Villa Helius a few days earlier, waving at me while I avoided her eyes and turned my back on her.

‘Martín?’ the inspector asked, waving a hand in front of my face as if he feared I’d lost my mind.

‘What?’

The inspector seemed to be genuinely worried.

‘Have you anything to tell me? I know you won’t believe me, but I’d like to help you.’

‘Do you still think it was me who killed Barrido and his partner?’

Grandes shook his head.

‘I’ve never believed it was you, but there are others who would like to.’

‘Then why are you still investigating me?’

‘Calm down. I’m not investigating you, Martín. I never have. The day I do investigate you, you’ll know. For the time being I’m only observing you. Because I like you and I’m concerned that you’re going to get yourself into a mess. Why won’t you trust me and tell me what’s going on?’