When at last she stopped sobbing and looked up, Fernandito encountered a broken Alicia, her eyes reddened and her smile so fragile it looked as if she was going to splinter into a thousand pieces of glass.

“Are you feeling better?” he murmured,

Alicia looked into his eyes and, without warning, kissed him on the lips.

Fernandito, who felt a fire lighting up entire provinces of his body and soul he didn’t know existed, stopped her. “Señorita Alicia, I don’t think this is what you want to do now. You’re confused.”

She lowered her face and licked her lips. Fernandito knew he would carry that image etched on his brain to the grave and possibly beyond.

“I’m sorry, Fernandito,” she said, getting up.

He also got to his feet and then offered her a chair, which Alicia accepted.

“This will stay between us, all right?”

“Of course,” he said, thinking that even if he’d tried, he wouldn’t have known what or whom to tell.

Alicia looked around her, and her eyes paused on a box filled with bottles and food, standing in the middle of the dining room.

“It’s your order,” Fernandito explained. “I thought it would be best if I showed up with the shopping, in case the gentleman who was here before was still around.”

Alicia smiled and nodded. “What do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house. They didn’t have Perelada, but I brought you a Priorato, which according to Manolo is fabulous. I don’t know much about wine. Although, if I may volunteer a suggestion—”

“I shouldn’t drink so much. I know. Thank you, Fernandito.”

“May I ask what happened?”

Alicia shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“But you’re better, aren’t you? Say you’re feeling better.”

“Much better, thanks to you.”

Fernandito, who wasn’t sure whether to believe her, simply nodded. “Actually, I’d come to tell you what I’ve found out,” he said.

Alicia looked at him questioningly.

“About the guy you asked me to follow,” he explained. “Sanchís?”

“I’d forgotten about that. I think we might be too late, I’m afraid.”

“Are you saying that because of the arrest?”

“Did you see him being arrested?”

Fernandito nodded. “Early this morning, I planted myself opposite his offices on Paseo de Gracia, just as you said. There was a nice old-timer there, a street painter, and when he saw me watching the front door, he told me to give Captain Vargas his regards. Does he also work for you?”

“He’s an independent operator—an artist. And what happened?”

“I recognized Sanchís because he came out wearing a very fine suit, and the painter told me that yes, he was the individual in question. He got into a taxi, and I followed him on the Vespa to the Bonanova district. He lives in a house on Calle Iradier, one of those that sweep you off your feet. He must have a good eye for business, because that area is pricey as hell, and the house—”

“He has a good eye for marriages,” said Alicia.