She opened the door and saw Vargas standing by the window. Sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in his hand, smiling calmly, was Leandro Montalvo. In the doorway, Alicia felt her cheeks paling.

Leandro stood up. “And there was I, thinking you’d be glad to see me, Alicia.”

Alicia took a few steps forward, removing her coat as she glanced at Vargas. “I . . . I didn’t know you were coming. If I’d known . . .”

“It’s been a bit of a last-minute thing. I arrived last night, but in fact I couldn’t have chosen a better moment.”

“May I offer you anything?” Alicia improvised.

Leandro held out his cup. “Captain Vargas here has been very kind and made me a splendid cup of tea.”

“Señor Montalvo and I have been discussing the details of the case,” said Vargas.

“Oh, good . . .”

“Come on, give me a kiss, Alicia, I haven’t seen you for days.”

She went up to Leandro and brushed his cheek with her lips.

A glint in his eyes informed her that he’d noticed the bile on her breath. “Everything all right?”

“Yes. A bit of an upset stomach. It’s nothing.”

“You must take better care of yourself. If I’m not around to keep an eye on you, you don’t bother.”

Alicia nodded and smiled meekly.

“Go on, sit down. Tell me. The captain says you’ve had a busy morning. You went to see a journalist, I believe.”

“In the end he stood me up. He probably didn’t have anything to tell me.”

“You can’t rely on anyone in this country.”

“That’s what Vargas says.”

“Luckily there are still some people who work, and who work well. Like you two, who’ve practically resolved the case.”

“Have we?” Alicia glanced at Vargas, who lowered his eyes.

“Well, all this stuff about Metrobarna, the chauffeur, and that Sanchís guy . . . I’d say we’ve almost got this in the bag, as they say. The trail is very solid.”

“It’s only circumstantial. Nothing more.”

Leandro laughed politely. “See what I was saying, Vargas? Alicia is never satisfied with herself. She’s a perfectionist.”

“I wonder where she gets it from,” Vargas said drily.

Alicia was about to ask him what he was doing in Barcelona when the door of the apartment suddenly opened and Fernandito walked into the sitting room, panting after his race up the stairs.

“Fresh news, Señorita Alicia! You’ll never guess what I discovered!”

“I hope you’re going to tell me that you’ve found my order at last,” she snapped, her eyes fixed on his. “I suppose you left it in the building across the street by mistake.”

“Goodness,” said Leandro. “Who is this obliging young man? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“It’s Fernandito. The boy from the grocery.”

Fernandito gulped and nodded.

“So? You haven’t brought it?” Alicia asked, scowling.

Fernandito stared at her mutely.

“I said eggs, milk, bread, and two bottles of white Perelada. And also olive oil. Which is the bit you haven’t understood, you simpleton?”