“Right. Lucky him. Well, the thing is that soon after he arrived, a car and a police van turned up, and a whole lot of cops filed out. There were at least seven or eight of them. They looked like very bad news. First they surrounded the house, and then one of them, dressed rather fancy for a cop, rang the doorbell.”

“And while all that was going on, where were you?”

“Under cover. On the other side of the street there’s a large house where they’re doing some construction, and it’s easy to hide. You see, I take precautions.”

“And then?”

“A few minutes later they took Sanchís out, handcuffed and in his shirtsleeves. He was protesting, but one of the cops hit him behind his knees with a billy club, and they dragged him to the van. I was going to follow them, but I got the impression that the fancy-dressed cop was giving the large old house the evil eye, like he could smell me. The van sped off really fast, but the car stayed behind. They moved it farther up the street, so it couldn’t be seen from the house. Just in case, I decided to stay put and out of sight.”

“You did the right thing. In that sort of situation, never push it. If you lose the trail, you lose it. Better that than losing your head.”

“That’s what I thought. My father always says that once you lose your ass, the rest follows—starting with your head.”

“Wise words.”

“The thing is, I was beginning to get rather nervous. I was wondering whether I should leave when a second car drove up to the front door of the house. A very flashy Mercedes. An odd-looking fellow got out.”

“Odd-looking?”

“Plain weird. He wore some kind of mask, as if he was missing half his face, or something like that.”

“Morgado.”

“You know him?”

“That’s Sanchís’s chauffeur.”

Fernandito nodded, all enthusiastic again, sharing the mysteries of his adored Alicia. “I thought he might be. He was dressed for the part. So, he got out of the car and went into the house. A bit later he came out again, this time accompanied by a lady.”

“What was she like?”

“Young. Like you.”

“Do I look young to you?”

Fernandito gulped. “Don’t tease me now. As I said, she was young. Not more than thirty, but she dressed as if she were older. Like a rich lady. Since I didn’t know who she was, I gave her a technical nickname: Myrna Loy, you know, like the one in the movies?”

“Is that your type?”

“Stop it.”

“You weren’t far off, anyway. Her name is Victoria Ubach, or Sanchís. She’s the wife of the banker they arrested.”

“I knew it. These crooks always marry someone much younger and much richer.”

“You know what you must do, then.”

“I’d be useless at that sort of thing. But going back to the events: they both got into the Mercedes. She sat in the front, next to the driver, and I found that odd. As soon as they drove off, the other police car started to follow them.”