After a while Dr. Soldevila staggered in. Isaac waved at him, and he came over.

“What happened? Who was that man?”

Isaac pointed his head toward the knot of limbs embedded on the floor, some twenty meters away.

“Good God . . . ,” murmured the doctor. “And the young lady?”

* * *

Alicia emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and went into Isaac’s room. The doctor looked inquisitively at Isaac, who shrugged. Soldevila walked over to Isaac’s door and peered around. Alicia was putting on some of Nuria Montfort’s clothes.

“Are you all right?” asked the doctor.

“I’m fine,” replied Alicia, not taking her eyes off the mirror.

Dr. Soldevila shelved his amazement, sat down on a chair, and gazed at her in silence while she explored a toilet bag that had belonged to Isaac’s daughter and chose a few cosmetics. She put on her makeup conscientiously, outlining her lips and eyes with precision as, once again, she built a character that fit in much better with the scene of her actions than did the weakened body the doctor had become accustomed to caring for during the past few weeks. When his eyes met hers in the mirror, Alicia winked at him.

“As soon as I’ve left,” she said, “you’re going to have to get in touch with Fermín. Tell him the body needs to disappear. Tell him to go see the taxidermist in Plaza Real, and say I sent him. He has the necessary chemical products.”

Alicia stood up, swirled around once to check herself in the mirror, and, after putting the gun and the money she had taken from Hendaya’s body into a black bag, headed for the door.

“Who are you?” asked Dr. Soldevila as she walked past.

“The devil,” Alicia replied.

22

As soon as Fermín saw the good old doctor walk in through the bookshop door, he knew it was open season for shocks. Soldevila showed unmistakable signs of having been very professionally punched in the face. Daniel and Bea, who were behind the counter trying to balance the month’s accounts, opened their mouths wide and rushed over to help.

“What happened, Doctor?”

Dr. Soldevila let out a snort that sounded like a bursting balloon and hung his head dejectedly.

“Daniel, bring out the bottle of strong brandy your father hides behind the Exemplary Lives of the Saints collection,” Fermín ordered.

Bea took the doctor to a chair and helped him sit down. “Are you all right? Who did this to you?”

“Yes, and I’m not entirely sure,” he replied. “In that order.”

“And Alicia?” asked Bea.

“I wouldn’t worry about her, honestly . . .”

Fermín sighed. “She’s flown off?”

“Wrapped in a cloud of sulfur.”

Daniel handed the doctor a glass of brandy to which he offered no resistance. He downed it in one gulp and let the concoction do the trick. “Another, please.”

“What about Isaac?” asked Fermín.

“He stayed behind, meditating.”

Fermín crouched down next to the doctor and looked into his eyes. “Come on, Your Eminence, out with it—and, if possible, holding back on the editorializing.”