Florencio must have noticed Alicia’s look of wonder. He drew closer to her and pointed toward what looked like a circus big top. “You wouldn’t believe the things that end up here. There are times when even I don’t believe it.”

As they penetrated deeper into the mesh of passageways, they noticed a strange litany resembling animal sounds floating in the air. For a moment, Alicia thought she was venturing into a jungle full of tropical birds and prowling wild cats.

Enjoying the bewilderment on their faces, Florencio let out a childish guffaw. “No, you haven’t both gone mad, even if this is the perfect place for making you go off your rocker. The noise comes from the zoo, which is just behind. You can hear all sorts of creatures from here. Elephants, lions, and cockatoos. At night the panthers start howling—they make your hair stand on end. But the monkeys are the worst. Like people, only without all the fuss. This way, please. We’re almost there . . .”

The car’s shape was visible under the thin tarpaulin that covered it. Florencio flicked the cover off expertly, then folded it. He’d already set up a couple of spotlights on tripods placed on either side of the vehicle, and now he connected them to an extension hanging from the electrical cables. Two intense yellow beams transformed the car into a shining metal sculpture. Pleased with his set design, Florencio opened all four doors of the car and moved back a few steps with a bow. “There it is.”

“Do you have the technical report at hand?” asked Vargas.

Florencio nodded. “It’s in my office. I’ll go and fetch it right now.” He hurried off, seeming to levitate a few centimeters above the floor.

“You stay on the side of the passenger seat,” Vargas told Alicia.

“Yes, dear uncle.”

The first thing Alicia noticed was the smell. She looked up at Vargas, who nodded.

“Gunpowder.”

The policeman pointed at the dark stains of dry blood splattered over the passenger seat.

“It’s not much blood for a bullet wound,” Alicia said, considering. “Perhaps a scratch . . .”

Vargas shook his head slowly. “A shot inside the car would have produced an exit wound, and the bullet would be embedded in the bodywork, in the seats. Such a small amount of blood probably comes from another wound, perhaps a blade of some sort. Or from a blow.”

Vargas touched the halo of small marks piercing the back of the seat. “Burned,” he murmured. “The shot was from the inside to the outside.”

Alicia moved away from the seat and looked for the window handle. When she turned it, a thin line of glass shards showed over the edge. On the floor beneath the window were fragments of pulverized glass.

“You see?”

For a few minutes they examined the car from top to bottom, without saying a word. The local police had combed it thoroughly and hadn’t left anything of interest for them, except a wad of old road maps in the glove compartment and a spiral notebook with no covers. Alicia leafed through the pages.