“Of course. Does the minister usually meet up with members of staff from his private businesses, here, in his home?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you remember the last time it happened?”

“Quite frankly, no.”

“What about the meeting with Señor Cascos. Did you arrange it?”

Doña Mariana shook her head. “As I said, he himself put it down in his datebook, in his own handwriting.”

“Is it usual for Don Mauricio to fix appointments or meetings without telling you, ‘in his own handwriting’?”

The secretary glared at Alicia.

“No.”

“And yet in your statement to the police you didn’t mention this fact.”

“I’ve already said that at first it seemed irrelevant to me. Señor Cascos is one of Don Mauricio’s employees. I didn’t think there was anything unusual about the fact that they’d agreed to meet. It wasn’t the first time.”

“Oh, wasn’t it?”

“No. They’d met before a number of times.”

“In this house?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did you arrange those meetings, or did Don Mauricio arrange them himself?”

“I can’t remember. I’d have to go through my notes. Why does it matter either way?”

“Forgive my insistence, but when Señor Cascos turned up for the meeting that morning, did he tell you that the minister wanted to talk to him?”

Dona Mariana thought about it for a few seconds. “No. At that moment our main concern was to establish the whereabouts of Don Mauricio, and it didn’t occur to me that whatever he had to discuss with a mid-level employee could be a priority.”

“Is Señor Cascos a mid-level employee?” asked Alicia.

“Yes.”

“Just to clarify, and for reference only, what would your level be, Doña Mariana?”

Vargas gave Alicia a discreet kick. The secretary stood up, her face assuming a severe expression to indicate that the meeting had concluded. “If you’ll excuse me, and there’s nothing else I can help you with . . .” She pointed to the door, a polite but firm invitation to depart. “Even in his absence, Don Mauricio’s affairs require my attention.”

Vargas nodded and stood up, ready to follow Doña Mariana toward the exit. He’d already begun leaving when he noticed that Alicia was still seated on the sofa, sipping the cup of tea that she hadn’t even noticed during the conversation. Vargas and the secretary turned toward her.

“In fact, yes, there is one more thing you can do to help us, Doña Mariana,” she said.

* * *

They followed Doña Mariana through a maze of corridors until they reached the staircase leading up to the tower. Valls’s secretary showed them the way mutely, without looking back, an almost tangible shadow of hostility trailing her. The sheets of rain licking the facade cast a somber atmosphere through curtains and windowpanes, creating the impression that Villa Mercedes was submerged under the waters of a lake. On their way they passed an entire army of servants and other staff members of Valls’s small empire, who bowed their heads when they saw Doña Mariana, more than one stopping and moving to one side to bend over in obeisance. Observing this ritual of hierarchies, Vargas and Alicia exchanged an occasional bewildered glance.