Laura sat down first, opposite Ruiz Costa. Cámara picked up the fourth chair and pulled it back against one of the walls, sitting at right angles to Amy’s husband.
‘My name’s Manuel Badenes,’ the lawyer said without standing up. ‘I’ll be representing—’
‘Yes, we know.’ Laura cut him off. The lawyer fell silent. Oh God, Cámara thought. This was going to be worse than he feared.
‘Señor Ruiz Costa,’ Laura began. From his slouched pos-ition, hands beneath the table, Amy’s husband looked up. His eyes were puffed and red, his complexion pale, with the overhead neon strips giving his skin an almost green hue. Cámara remembered the tones of Amy’s dead skin as she lay on the table, waiting for Quintero’s knife to cut her open.
‘Alfredo,’ Laura went on. ‘Can I call you Alfredo?’
Ruiz Costa shrugged.
‘Have you eaten anything today?’ Laura asked. ‘Have they fed you?’
Ruiz Costa looked down at his hands.
‘Not hungry,’ he mumbled.
‘I know how you feel,’ Laura said. ‘Sometimes you just don’t have an appetite. I’m the same way today, you know? You see some things, some horrible things, and it just puts you right off your food.’
Ruiz Costa did not move.
‘Before we get too far,’ Cámara butted in, ‘I just wanted to ask – Señor Ruiz Costa, you don’t happen to know the password for Amy’s email account, do you?’
Ruiz Costa looked up.
‘It might prove helpful for the investigation.’
‘J A N 1 2 M I L,’ he said blankly. ‘It’s the date and place of her birth.’
‘Thank you.’
Cámara jotted it down on a piece of paper and handed it to the guard with instructions for it to be passed on to Inspector Lozano.
‘I’ve got some very interesting things to tell you,’ he heard Laura say as he returned to his seat.
Ruiz Costa’s unquestioning cooperation with the password appeared to make little impact on her.
‘Is Señor Ruiz Costa—’ Badenes began.
‘Your client,’ Laura interrupted.
‘Yes. Thank you. Is my client being formally charged?’
‘Wait and see,’ said Laura.
Badenes fell silent again. At the side of the room, Cámara closed his eyes. Wait and see? It almost made him want to walk over there and represent Ruiz Costa himself. The lawyer was a waste of space.
Laura turned to Ruiz Costa.
‘Talk to me about your mother.’
Amy’s husband looked up.
‘My . . .?’
‘Yes, your mother. Clementina.’
Ruiz Costa glanced over to Badenes, then to Cámara. Cámara kept his face as expressionless as possible.
‘Is this—?’ Ruiz Costa began.
‘Relevant?’ said Laura. ‘I think so. Don’t you? She died recently, didn’t she? That must have been a huge blow.’
‘Yes. I . . . It was just before Christmas.’
‘You were close. You and your mother.’
‘She was my mother,’ he said flatly.
‘Of course. How did she and Amy get on?’
‘Fine. I think.’
‘You think?’
‘It was fine.’
He shuffled in his chair.
‘No tensions? No arguments? It must have been difficult living together in one flat. A new woman in the home . . .’
‘I’m at work much of the day,’ he said. ‘Amy never said anything.’
Saying her name seemed to cause a twisting spasm in his body. He lifted his hands to his face and sighed deeply, the breath making a whooshing sound as it passed through his fingers.
‘Alfredo, Alfredo,’ Laura said. ‘We’re here to help. We’re here to sort all this out. And I think you can help us. Anything you tell us now will all help to bring this to a close much quicker. But you just have to tell us, to talk to us. Otherwise the agony could go on for ever.’
She leaned in and placed her elbows on the table.
‘It’s up to you, Alfredo. Only you can do this.’
Badenes was about to say something, but Laura shot him a look and he fell back into acquiescent silence.
‘Tell us about Amy and you,’ she said. ‘It can’t have been easy after your mother’s death. You’d lived there with her since you were a small boy. Then suddenly she’s gone and it’s just you and the new woman. That must have been difficult for you.’
Ruiz Costa’s hands were no longer covering his eyes, but they still hovered around his face and nose, as though in silent, secret prayer. He began rocking back and forth, as he had done at the flat.
‘Tell us about it,’ continued Laura. ‘What happened?’
‘Amy was wonderful,’ he said at last, his words muffled through his hands. ‘Wonderful. I can’t believe . . .’
‘She’s dead,’ Laura said. ‘She is dead, very dead, Alfredo.’
He covered his eyes again, his body shaking with a low, steady sob.
‘I’ve just come back from the forensic medicine department. Amy was there. Do you know why she’s there, Alfredo? Do you know why? Can you tell us?’
Badenes butted in.
‘Look, this is clearly upsetting for my client. I think—’
‘I think he needs to help this police investigation in any way that he can,’ Laura finished for him.
She turned back to Ruiz Costa.
‘Amy was wonderful, you say. Why would anyone want to hurt her, then?’
Ruiz Costa moved his head from side to side, his words inaudible from behind his hands.
‘What’s that? We can’t hear you.’
He pulled his hands away and looked at her, his face wet with tears.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know,’ he cried.
‘Did you hurt her, Alfredo? Did you?’
His body stopped still for a moment, as though caught on camera, then his eyes widened before disappearing again behind his fingers, his head falling and almost touching the table.
Laura threw Cámara a glance, angry and determined. He nodded: go on. Continue and let us see where we get. Besides, it was hot in the interview room, and the memory of what he had seen earlier in the morning was finally beginning to fade: it was time to think about lunch.
‘Did you hurt Amy, Alfredo?’ Laura resumed.
Ruiz Costa’s body was curled tight in a ball.
‘When did you realise she could never be a substitute for Mamá?’
No response.
‘Is that what happened, Alfredo? When did you realise? Is that when you decided to hurt Amy? Because no one could replace—’
The explosion finally came.
‘Why are you doing this to me?’
He was trying to shout, to scream at her, but his voice was strangled by the sobbing, and it came out like a broken whine.
‘Stop it! Stop it!’
He lifted his head, looking at her through his fingers, trying to fight back and protect himself from her words at the same time.
‘I didn’t hurt her. I never hurt her.’
‘Of course you never hurt Mamá,’ said Laura. ‘You wouldn’t hurt her. You loved her. When she died it destroyed you.’
‘What?’
‘We’re talking about Amy, Alfredo. What did Amy do? Was she not as upset over your mother’s death, was that it?’
‘I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t.’
‘Did she not respect your mother’s memory? That was when things started to go wrong between you, isn’t it?’
‘No, no, no.’
‘You can tell me, Alfredo. I’m here to help you. Something terrible has happened and I’m here to make it better. But you have to help me help you. You have to tell me everything.’
‘I’ve got nothing to say!’
This time his voice echoed loudly around the room, his red eyes bulging, the veins throbbing in his neck. He stared defiantly at Laura for a second before turning his body to the side and curling
into himself again.
A wave of confidence surged through Badenes.
‘Are you going to charge my client?’ he chirped up. ‘If not I suggest we bring this to a close. It is clearly upsetting for him.’
Laura held a finger up to him.
‘Alfredo,’ she said. No reaction.
‘Alfredo.’
She sat back and sighed. Badenes shuffled in his chair, as though about to stand up.
‘I’ve just come from the forensic medicine department,’ Laura said. ‘You know, Alfredo, where they take dead bodies.’
Badenes was on his feet.
‘I think—’ he began.
‘Sit down!’
Instinctively the solicitor’s knees bent and he returned to his seat.
Laura directed her words to Ruiz Costa again.
‘It’s where they carry out autopsies,’ she said. ‘It’s a very important job, particularly when we’re dealing with a murder case, like with Amy. It can throw up all kinds of useful and interesting facts that help us solve the crime and catch the killer. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Ruiz Costa was motionless, but his attention was clearly focused on Laura.
‘Some of the details are disturbing. Frankly it’s a horrible business, and it’s the worst bit of my job, you know? Watching those poor people being cut up and degraded even more. It’s necessary, it helps us catch the bad guys. But it’s not nice, Alfredo, it’s really not nice.’
She leaned in towards the table, linking her fingers together and resting on her forearms.
‘And do you know whose autopsy I just saw this morning, before coming here? That’s right, Alfredo, it was Amy’s. It was Amy’s turn on the table this morning. And do you know what they did? They cut her open, all the way open.’
She slid a finger down her chest in imitation of a knife.
‘And they even cut the top of her head off. Did you know that?’
From the side of the room, Cámara started chewing on his tongue.
‘They do that to take a look at the brain,’ Laura said. ‘But in Amy’s case there was hardly anything left to take out. It had all been blown away by the gunshots.’
A low-pitched squeal was beginning to emanate from Ruiz Costa’s body, like the sound of a wounded animal.
‘The doctor said the gun had a silencer. Which is why no one in the building heard while Amy was being murdered. That’s quite organised, isn’t it? To have a silencer. Her murderer must have been prepared, must have thought it through. Clever to think about using that.’
The squealing was getting louder.
‘And you know what else we found out from the autopsy? All kinds of things. What Amy had for breakfast – that’s because they cut open her stomach. Did I mention that? Lots of fascinating details about her and her life. But there was one more interesting thing. Did you know that when she was killed, someone broke every bone in her fingers? Probably stamped on them. With his heel. We think he was wearing black rubber soles. Is that the colour of your shoes, Alfredo?’
Ruiz Costa pulled himself in tighter and tighter, wrapping his hands over the back of his head to squeeze himself smaller. The sound of his squealing grew louder, as though trying to drown out Laura’s words.
Badenes was on his feet again. Laura shouted at Ruiz Costa so that he would hear.
‘And she’d been fingered, Alfredo. Her knickers were pulled down and a fist had been pushed into her . . .’
The vomit was white and translucent, thick mucus erupting from the bottom of his stomach. It flew like a bullet straight from Ruiz Costa’s mouth across the table. Laura was slow to react, only averting her face when it was already too late. Her hair, hands and shirt were quickly covered in it.
‘Ugh,’ she said, watching drops of it fall from her fingers on to the floor.
‘Mierda.’
Badenes was already at the door, calling in a policeman to take his client back to the cells.
Cámara got up, picked out a couple of spare tissues from his pocket, and passed them to Laura.
Any thoughts about lunch were forgotten.
TWELVE
THE JEFATURA WAS a roughly rectangular building occupying a single block along Fernando el Católico. Inside, the central area was a large, open patio that on most days was used as a makeshift car park for those higher up the Policía Nacional feeding chain. Shelters were provided along one side to shade the bigger, more expensive cars. Cámara stood under one of them, using a black Audi as a windbreak while he lit his cigarette, then stepped out into a small patch of sunlight. He needed a moment to himself to think. Or rather not to think. There had been too much thinking already in this case, he felt, which was why they were having so many problems. Tackling it head on, going forwards in a supposedly straight line. Laura was going for the big clean catch. It made things so much easier if someone could confess to a killing: hundreds of man-hours were saved – not just in police work, but investigating judges, lawyers, magistrate’s clerks – all of them could breathe a sigh of relief when a murderer pointed the finger of blame at himself. You left it at that and moved on to the next one.
But Ruiz Costa was different. And something about this case was different.
Vísteme despacio que tengo prisa. Dress me slowly: I’m in a rush. The proverb summed it up. They were getting tunnel vision, focusing too much on the prize. It was time to go on a different tack, take a sideways look. If he could have his way he would send everyone home for the rest of the day to switch off. Go to the beach, go wherever. And have sex – preferably with another person.
Laura stayed in the Jefatura, using the showers on the premises and changing into a fresh set of clothes that she kept in her office. Once she had cleaned up she would be spending the rest of the day with the científicos, she said. Did the markings on Amy’s hands match the soles of Ruiz Costa’s shoes – either the ones he was wearing now or any other pairs back at the flat? she wanted to know. Had they found anything on her body – fibres, hair, DNA – that matched Ruiz Costa? she wanted to know. The científicos hated having officers from other departments breathing down their necks as they worked, but she was not going to give up. The processes could take days in some instances – DNA testing took a week minimum, and usually much longer owing to a backlog of work – but she insisted on being there, on overseeing.
Cámara was not bothered about her disappearing for a few hours. Now, with an empty stomach and no desire to eat, he could get back to his normal way of approaching an investigation – by letting things flow for a while.
Aquí paz y después gloria. Peace and calm for the time being; success and glory would come later.
The cigarette helped settle his stomach and his nerves. They were lucky that the murder squad offices were on the ground floor and he had easy access to this refuge of nicotine. He could come back in half an hour or so and have another. Then perhaps later, if he could manage it, he would get a bite to eat. Or something to drink at least. He could do with a brandy right now.
Something of the mood of the previous day, when they had anxiously huddled around the television set to watch the coverage from Madrid, had carried through. But today, although the news was still switched on in the corner, most were sitting at their desks, their eyes focused on the images on their computer screens, with little of the banter and chat that was normally part of the background noise. At the hospital the surgeons – the best in the country – had completed the operation on the King’s heart, but so far there were no further developments, and intense concern over whether he was alive or dead could only be sustained for so long.
‘What happened?’ Lozano said, walking back into the office after a break. ‘Did someone just die?’
It was a standard Homicidios joke, and usually raised a smile. But this time it fell flat. Not even Castro reacted. The general glumness was exacerbated by the news that the interview with Ruiz Costa had not produced the result they had hoped for. He had opened up all right, but gastricall
y rather than verbally.
Cámara sat back in his chair with his feet on the desk, letting his mind wander. Albelda stepped in from the connecting office and walked over with a piece of paper in his hand.
‘Maldonado called down earlier,’ he said. ‘Wants a progress report.’
Without taking his eyes off a distant horizon, Cámara relieved him of the piece of paper, crunched it into a ball and sent it flying in the direction of the wastebasket on the other side of the room, where it landed with a satisfying ker-thunk.
‘Nice one,’ said Albelda. ‘You been practising?’
‘Castro,’ Cámara called out, his eyes still gazing at nothing.
‘Yes?’ Castro looked up from her computer screen.
‘You’re checking stuff on Amy on the Internet, aren’t you? Let me guess, her Facebook page?’
‘Er, yes,’ Castro said, a little startled. ‘How did you—’
‘And Lozano,’ Cámara said.
Lozano glanced over from his desk.
‘That’s Amy’s laptop you’ve got there, right?’
Lozano nodded silently.
‘Checking her emails?’
‘Trying to,’ Lozano said. ‘The password is correct. I can see them but they’re mostly in English.’
‘Good,’ Cámara said. ‘Albelda, would you mind taking a seat? I’d like you in on this.’
The elder inspector sat down in a spare chair.
‘Castro first,’ Cámara said. ‘Tell me what you’ve found out so far.’
‘There’s a lot,’ she said.
‘You’ve got English, right?’ Cámara said. She was of the younger generation. The only foreign language Cámara had been taught at school was French and his intermediate English had been picked up subsequently, largely through his own efforts. People in their twenties and thirties, however, had been given obligatory English classes. Castro should be able to make something out of it.
Blood Med Page 8
