“It’s me, Alicia. Vargas.”

“Vargas?”

“Don’t say you’ve forgotten me already.”

A long pause. Alicia’s voice sounded as if it was coming from inside a fish tank. “I thought it would be Leandro,” she said at last, dragging her words.

“You sound odd. Have you been drinking?”

“When I drink I don’t sound odd, Vargas.”

“What did you take?”

“A little glass of warm milk before saying my prayers and going to bed.”

“Where were you?” he asked.

“I was having a drink with Daniel Sempere.”

Vargas was silent for a while.

“I know what I’m doing, Vargas.”

“If you say so.”

“Where are you?”

“In Vallvidrera, waiting for the police and the judge to come and remove the body.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That I went to Mataix’s house, trying to finish tying up loose ends, and I came across a surprise.”

“And they bought that?”

“Of course not, but I still have good friends in the force.”

“What are you going to tell them about the body?”

“That I don’t recognize him because I’d never seen him before. Which is technically true.”

“Does your friend know you’ve been taken off the case?”

“He probably found out before I did. He’s always ahead of the game.”

“As soon as the body is identified, the news will reach Madrid. And Leandro.”

“Which gives us a few hours’ leeway,” Vargas said. “With luck, that is.”

“Did Fermín tell you anything?”

“Pearls of wisdom. And that you two have a pending conversation.”

“I know. Did he say what it was about?”

“We’ve become close, but not that close. I have a feeling Fermín thinks you’re someone from his past.”

“So what now?”

“Once the judge has signed the warrant for the body to be removed, I’ll accompany the body to the morgue, arguing that it might be part of my investigation. I know the pathologist from my years in Leganés. He’s a good man. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“You’ll be there at least until sunrise.”

“At least. I’ll take a nap in the morgue. I’m sure they’ll lend me a nice table,” joked Vargas halfheartedly.

“Take care. And call me as soon as you know anything.”

“Don’t worry. You try to get some rest.”

Vargas put down the phone and went over to the counter. He drank his coffee, which was lukewarm by now, swallowing it in one gulp.

“Shall I serve you another?”

“Perhaps I’d rather a large coffee with milk.”

“A pastry to go with it? It’s on the house. I’ll have to chuck them tomorrow.”

“All right, then.”

Vargas pulled a horn off the dry croissant and examined it against the light, debating whether swallowing that thing was a good idea. Chusco, with the low-scruple threshold peculiar to the species, was watching him attentively and licking his lips in anticipation. Vargas let the piece of pastry fall, and Chusco captured it in mid-flight. The dog proceeded to devour the prize avidly and then panted at Vargas in eternal gratitude.