14

Fermín disembarked from the taxi like a famished castaway making land after weeks clinging to a plank of wood. The owner of Can Lluís, an old friend of Fermín’s, received him with an embrace and greeted Daniel warmly. He eyed Vargas and Alicia uncertainly, but after Fermín whispered something in his ear, he nodded, inviting them in. “Only today we were talking about you with Professor Alburquerque, who had lunch here, and wondering what adventures you might be caught up in.”

“Nothing of note,” said Fermín, “just small domestic intrigues. I’m not the sleuth I used to be.”

“If you like, you can have the table at the far end. It will be more peaceful there . . .”

They settled in a corner of the dining room, Vargas instinctively taking a seat facing the entrance.

“What would you like?” asked the manager.

“Surprise us, my friend,” said Fermín. “I’ve already had a preliminary dinner, but with all this excitement I wouldn’t say no to a late-night snack, and our captain here could eat a bull and requires a crash course on the local cuisine. Kindly bring the young ones a couple of lemonades and let them sip that, to see if they come out of their apathy.”

“A glass of white wine for me, please,” said Alicia.

“I have a very good Penedès.”

She nodded.

“So, why don’t I bring you a few tapas to start with and we take it from there?”

“Motion approved unanimously,” Fermín declared.

The manager set off to the kitchen with the order, leaving them with no more company than a heavy silence.

“You were saying, Alicia?” Fermín asked encouragingly.

“What I’m going to tell you must remain between us,” she warned.

Daniel and Fermín looked straight at her.

“You’re going to have to give me your word,” Alicia insisted.

“One gives one’s word to someone who has one,” said Fermín. “And for the moment you, with all due respect, have not shown us any proof at all that this may be the case.”

“Well, you’re going to have to trust me.”

Fermín exchanged glances with Vargas. The policeman shrugged. “Don’t look at me. That’s what she told me a few days ago, and look where I am now.”

Soon a waiter appeared with a tray and placed a few small dishes and a bit of bread on the table. Fermín and Vargas instantly attacked the offering, while Alicia slowly savored her glass of white wine, holding a cigarette between her fingers. Daniel stared at the table.

“What do you think of the fare?” asked Fermín.

“Tremendous,” Vargas agreed. “Enough to awaken the dead.”

“Try this portion of fricandó, Captain—prime Catalan beef stew that will make you want to dance the sardana in your long johns.”

Daniel observed this odd couple, who couldn’t have been more different from each other, frantically wolfing down everything that had been put in front of them. “How many dinners are you capable of eating, Fermín?” he asked.