The waiter gulped.

“If you like, I could buy you a drink,” offered Alicia. “A beer?”

Marcelino looked at her, stiff as a ramrod.

“Sit down, Marcelino. I don’t bite.”

The young man sat down opposite her. Alicia smiled at him sweetly. “Do you have a girlfriend, Marcelino?”

The waiter shook his head.

“Some girls don’t know what they’re missing. Tell me something. Does this place have any other way out, apart from the main door?”

“Excuse me?”

“I was asking, do you have any other way out to an alleyway, or to the entrance hall of the next-door building . . .”

“There’s a door to a patio that leads to Bertrellans. Why?”

“I’m asking you because someone is following me.”

Marcelino glanced at the street in alarm. “Do you want me to call the police?”

Alicia put her hand on his. The waiter was about to turn into a statue of salt.

“There’s no need. It’s nothing serious. But I’d rather use a more discreet exit, if that’s not a problem for you.”

Marcelino shook his head.

“You’re a darling. Now, what do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Are you sure?”

Marcelino gave a quick nod.

“It’s what I said. There’s a whole lot of young girls out there who don’t know what’s good . . . Tell me, do you have a telephone?”

“Behind the bar.”

“Do you mind if I make a call? It’s long-distance, but I’ll pay for it, all right?”

“Make as many calls as you wish . . .”

Alicia made her way to the bar and found an old telephone attached to the wall. Marcelino, who had remained stuck to the table, was looking at her. She waved at him while she dialed. “Put me through to Vargas, please.”

“You’re Gris, aren’t you?” asked a rather sarcastic voice on the other end of the line. “The captain was expecting your call. I’ll put you through.”

She heard the receiver being left on a table as the voice summoned her colleague. “Vargas, it’s Doña Inés . . . ,” she heard one of the police officers say, while another sang the refrain of “Green Eyes.”

“Vargas here. How’s it going? Have you been dancing sardanas?”

“Who is Doña Inés?”

“You. We’ve been given nicknames here. I’m Don Juan . . .”

“Your pals are so witty.”

“You have no idea. There’s an abundance of talent here. What news?”

“I just thought you’d be missing me.”

“I’ve been stood up by more promising dates, and I’ve managed to get over it.”

“I’m glad to see you’re coping so well. I thought you’d already be on your way here.”

“If it was up to me, I’d be happy for you to stay there on your own until you retired.”

“And what do your bosses say?”

“They’re telling me to get into a car and drive all day and part of the night to be there with you tomorrow.”

“Speaking of cars—any news on Valls’s?”