While he was removing the closed notice from the bookshop door, he noticed that Fermín and Daniel were whispering in a corner.

“What are you two scheming?”

They turned around with that stupid expression on their faces that indicated a budding conspiracy. They looked as if they hadn’t slept for a week, and if the bookseller’s memory served him correctly, they were wearing exactly the same clothes as the day before.

“We were remarking on the fact that every day you look younger and more dashing,” said Fermín. “Young women of a marriageable age must be throwing themselves at your feet.”

Before the bookseller was able to reply, the doorbell tinkled. A gentleman with crystal-clear eyes and impeccable business attire walked up to the counter and smiled placidly.

“Good morning, sir, how may we help you?”

The visitor began to remove his gloves unhurriedly. “I was hoping you’d be able to answer a few questions,” said Hendaya. “Police.”

The bookseller frowned and shot a quick look at Daniel, who had gone so pale he’d acquired the color of Bible paper, the sort used to print the complete works of universal classics.

“Go ahead.”

Hendaya smiled politely and pulled out a photograph that he left on the counter. “If you’d be so kind as to come over and have a look.”

The three congregated behind the counter and proceeded to examine the photograph. It was a picture of Alicia Gris, looking about five years younger, smiling at the camera and putting on an air of innocence even a babe in arms wouldn’t have swallowed.

“Do you recognize this young lady?”

Señor Sempere picked up the photograph and looked at it carefully. He shrugged and passed it on to Daniel, who repeated the ritual. The last person to inspect it was Fermín, who, after lifting it up against the light, as if it were a counterfeit note, shook his head and handed it back to Hendaya.

“I’m afraid we don’t know this person,” said the bookseller.

“I must say, she does look a bit roguish, but her face doesn’t ring a bell,” Fermín corroborated.

“No? Are you sure?”

All three denied in unison.

“You’re not sure, or you haven’t seen her?”

“Yes we are, and no we haven’t,” Daniel replied.

“I see.”

“May I ask who that is?” asked the bookseller.

Hendaya put the photograph back. “Her name is Alicia Gris, and she’s a fugitive from justice. She has committed three murders, that we know of, in the last few days. The most recent was yesterday, when she killed a police captain named Vargas. She’s very dangerous and may be armed. She’s been seen in this part of town during the last few days, and some of your neighbors say she came into the bookshop. One of the shop assistants in the bakery on the corner is quite sure she saw her with one of the employees from this bookshop.”

“She must have made a mistake,” replied Señor Sempere.

“That’s possible. Does anyone else work here, apart from you three?”