He had listened in silence to the Inspector’s explanations. Would it not be wise to notify the family lawyer? Did his wife know the news? No? All the better. It was his place to tell her.
“Will you keep Betty overnight?”
“It all depends on the investigation. It’s the Examining Magistrate’s decision now. Did you not suspect anything of the relationship between your daughter and señor Czerbó?”
“With a daughter as secretive as Betty I’ve learnt to leave suspicion aside, but I know that deep down she’s an honest girl. I could never believe she was involved in criminal activity. Appearances accuse her, nothing more.”
Exactly the right words. In señor Iñarra’s orbit, the moon could never represent a crime. He would never admit that his wife or daughter were made of the same human material that at times is governed by the instinct for destruction.
“Do you have a typewriter?”
“We do.”
“On señor Czerbó’s bedside table we found a partially burnt typewritten note. It reads ‘you tonight’. Your daughter admits to having written it. She also says she didn’t go out last night.”
“I believe that.”
“I will have to question your wife.”
A pause. Señor Iñarra’s voice sounded tired, but even his lassitude was kept within strict confines.
“I understand. Would you mind if that conversation didn’t take place here? It’s time for my electric treatment. Please excuse me.”
He rang the bell to call his wife. From inside the apartment came the sound of curtains being drawn. Darkness was falling. Before turning the lights on, señora de Iñarra went through the ritual of shielding the rooms from the curiosity of passers-by. Colonial traditions on the third floor of a modern apartment building.
Gabriela entered her husband’s room quietly and with her eyes lowered. Her withdrawn attitude absolutely contrasted with Betty’s arrogance.
“Did you want something, Agustín?”
“Señor Ericourt wants to speak to you. But first I’d like you to help me into bed so I can have my treatment.”
“But you won’t be able to manage it alone.”
“I can manage perfectly. Just come back in twenty minutes to turn off the machine.”
“I’m sorry to be a nuisance. I can wait.” Ericourt was beginning to adopt the same good-natured selflessness with which señor Iñarra resolved his conflicts.
“Oh, it’s no problem! It is just that we’re on our own because it’s the maid’s day off. Gaby will be with you right away.”
Ericourt left the bedroom. He sat in the living-cum-dining room to wait for Gabriela. He ran his gaze around the room. Tall-backed Georgian chairs around an oval table. The classic scene where generations of children have learnt the terrible imperative of proper behaviour. The image did not fit well with that of suspicion, like a blurred, double-exposed photograph.
Gabriela took over ten minutes to reappear. Her husband was surely telling her what had happened with Betty. When she came in she was very pale.
“I’m all yours, Inspector.” She had sat down in one of the armchairs and gestured to the other in front of her, as if receiving a visit. Her propriety was of a different kind to that of her husband’s. Less cloying, all told.
“Has señor Iñarra told you why the Examining Magistrate has taken your stepdaughter into custody?”
“Well, yes, the gist of it.” Gaby moved her hands constantly as she spoke. “I don’t believe she’s got anything to do with this business either.”
“But do you know if she went to see señor Czerbó last night?”
“Betty didn’t go anywhere last night. She turned in early.”
“And what can you tell us about her previous visits to señor Czerbó?”
Gabriela blushed.
“I didn’t know about them. If I had done, I would have opposed them.”
“Would your stepdaughter have listened to your advice?”
“Betty is haughty and independent,” Gabriela sighed, “I’ve warned her on more than one occasion to be careful.”
“What can you tell me about the Czerbós?”
“Very little. I had a neighbourly relationship with them, nothing more.”
“Can anyone else confirm that your stepdaughter didn’t go out last night?”
“I don’t know. You can ask our maid when she gets back, but I don’t think her statement—”
She didn’t finish the sentence. The room had suddenly plunged into darkness.
“My God!” shouted Gabriela. “Agustín’s had an accident. Agustín, Agustín! Are you OK? Can you hear me?”
“I’m absolutely fine, Gaby. This ruddy machine has done its thing again. You didn’t think to turn off the other lights in the house.”
“Have you any matches?” Gabriela asked Ericourt. She raised her voice in the dark so he could locate her. “I left my torch in the scullery. I’ll go and put this right. I’ll need to change the fuse.”
“Gaby, come here,” called Don Agustín.
The light from the match broke a patch of darkness.
“Thank you,” said señora Iñarra. “I’ll come back for you right away.”
There followed a few moments of dark, anxious expectation before Gabriela reappeared at the doorway.
“Come with me,” she said, illuminating the room with a small pocket torch. “You can wait with Agustín.”
Señor Iñarra was sitting on the edge of the bed. The torch lit up the short-wave apparatus beside him. Ericourt took a seat in a chair next to the bed. The beam of light slid over the walls and disappeared.
“My wife will have it fixed in no time,” said Don Agustín jovially. “It’s my fault for having used an amateur electrician. My daughter is right when she accuses me of being overprotective.”
These last words acted as a fiat lux. The bedroom, suddenly reclaimed by light, presented Ericourt with a new sense of surprise. Gaby came in, and avoiding her husband’s eyes, she spoke directly to the Inspector. She seemed bad-tempered.
“We can continue our conversation now, señor Ericourt.” She had gone over to the desk and busied herself arranging some documents. “You’ll have to wait to finish your treatment, Agustín. We can’t keep señor Ericourt at the mercy of our domestic inconveniences.”
Ericourt was struck by the uncomfortable sensation of being a stranger there, like when one watches an animated conversation without being invited to take part.
“I’ll just trouble you for one more favour, if I may. I’d like you to show me the service rooms.”
“Of course. This way,” said Gabriela unfalteringly. “Be so kind as to follow me.”
Her footsteps were as agile and quick as reflex movements. Ericourt followed her along the hallway, struck by how adept and active she was.
The scullery door opened onto the same hall as Don Agustín’s bedroom. The service rooms were the kitchen, scullery and a narrow hallway that led to the maid’s bathroom and bedroom.
Ericourt peered through the kitchen’s interior window and carefully examined the position of the cornices and parapets.
“That’ll be all,” he said, turning round. Gabriela was waiting behind him, staring at the floor. She shuddered when she heard his voice. She must have been thinking about something else.
“Can I go out this way?” he added, pointing at the service door. “I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”
Gabriela did not move from the scullery until after the Inspector had left. The bell was calling her to her husband’s bedroom but she walked straight past and shut herself in her own bedroom, slamming the door to shut out the high-pitched, intermittent tinkling of the bell.