“Could I speak to Don Gustavo Barceló, please?”

“Señor Barceló is not here at present . . .”

“Would you know when I might find him?”

“Let me see. . . . The truth is that Don Gustavo no longer comes by the shop unless he has a meeting with a client. Don Felipe, the manager, has gone to Pedralbes to value a collection, but he’ll be back at noon.”

“What’s your name?”

“Benito, at your service.”

“Look, Benito, I can see you’re smart. I’m sure you’ll be able to help me.”

“Certainly.”

“You see, it’s a rather delicate subject. I need to speak to Señor Barceló as a matter of urgency. As it so happens, a close relative of mine, a great collector, has recently acquired a unique piece that he would be very interested in selling, and he’d like Don Gustavo to act as middleman and adviser in the transaction in order to maintain his anonymity.”

“I see,” said the young man, his voice faltering.

“The piece in question is a copy in perfect condition of one of the books of The Labyrinth of the Spirits, by someone called Víctor Mataix.”

The young man looked at her with eyes like saucers. “Mataix, you said?”

Alicia nodded. “Does that ring a bell?”

“If you would be so kind as to wait a minute, miss, I’ll try to contact Don Gustavo right away.”

Alicia smiled meekly. The shop assistant disappeared behind a curtain into the back room, and a few seconds later Alicia heard him dialing a number, then speaking hurriedly in a hushed voice.

“Don Gustavo, excuse me if I . . . Yes, I know this is not the time . . . No, I haven’t gone . . . Yes, sir, yes sir, I beg you . . . Of course I like my job . . . No, please . . . One second, just one second . . . Thank you.” The young man paused to recover his breath. “There’s a young lady here who says she has a Víctor Mataix in perfect condition for sale.”

A long silence.

“No, I’m not making this up. What? No. I don’t know who she is. No, I’d never seen her before. I don’t know. Young, very elegant . . . Well yes, I’d say so . . . No, they don’t all seem to me . . . Yes, sir, right away, sir . . .”

The young man appeared in the doorway to the back room, all smiles. “Don Gustavo wants to know when would be a good time for you to meet him.”

“First thing this afternoon?”

The young man nodded and disappeared again. “She says this afternoon. Yes. I don’t know. I’ll ask her . . . Then I won’t ask her . . . Whatever you say, Don Gustavo. Yes, sir. Right away. Rest assured. Yes, sir. You too.”

When the assistant reappeared, he looked relieved.

“Everything all right, Benito?” Alicia inquired.

“Never better. Excuse the manners. Don Gustavo is a saint, but he has his quirks.”