Alicia thought about it. “Maybe not. I just had an idea.”

“Don’t be cruel to him. I don’t know who they’ve assigned to you, but it might have been the most inexperienced guy they’ve found.”

“Am I that easy?”

“On the contrary. What I’m thinking is that nobody would have wanted the job.”

“Are you suggesting that I left a bad impression?”

“I’ve always told you it’s important to mind your manners. If you don’t, this is what happens. Have you spoken to Vargas?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re up-to-date about the car? Everything all right in your flat?”

“Yes. Señora Jesusa left everything spotless. She even ironed my first communion dress. Thanks for organizing that.”

“I want you to have everything you need.”

“Is that why you’re sending Vargas?”

“That must have been on his own initiative. Or Gil de Partera’s. I told you they didn’t trust us.”

“I wonder why?”

“What are your plans for today?”

“I’ve been going around the bookshops, and this afternoon I have an appointment with someone who will be able to clarify a few things about Víctor Mataix.”

“So you’re still on about that book . . .”

“Even if only to rule it out.”

“Do I know him? The person you’re meeting?”

“I don’t know. He’s a bookseller. Gustavo Barceló?”

The pause was almost imperceptible, but Alicia noticed it.

“It doesn’t ring a bell. Call me if you find out anything. And if you don’t.”

Alicia was trying to think of a sharp reply when she heard Leandro hang up. She left a few coins on the bar to cover the drinks and the two phone calls and blew Marcelino a kiss good-bye.

“We keep all this between us, eh, Marcelino?”

The waiter nodded enthusiastically and accompanied Alicia to the back door, which led to an open patio. From there, through a maze of corridors between various buildings in the block, she came to one of those gloomy alleyways, trademark of Barcelona’s old town, that are as tight and narrow as the space between a seminarist’s buttocks.

The alley went uphill from Calle Canuda to Calle Santa Ana. Alicia walked around the block, and at the corner stopped to take in the scene. A lady was pushing a shopping cart with one hand and with the other trying to drag a child who seemed to have his shoes glued to the ground. A young man wearing a suit and a scarf was standing in front of a shoe-store window, throwing sidelong glances at two pretty young girls with seamed stockings who laughed as they walked past him. A local policeman ambled down the middle of the street, casting suspicious looks here and there. And farther on, stuck to the side of a doorway like a poster, Alicia noticed a short man of such unremarkable appearance that he bordered on invisibility. This specimen was smoking a cigarette and watching the café door nervously while he checked his watch. He wasn’t a bad choice, thought Alicia. He looked so insignificant that even boredom wouldn’t have noticed him passing by.