This sort of public display was at odds with Lahore’s modest tastes. He was a man of order and preferred the routine of tip-offs and criminals with whom one used the standard procedures. His forced participation put him in a bad mood. He ran his ill-tempered gaze over the four people who were waiting on the brown velvet sofa: Betty, Soler, Luchter, Eidinger. Betty would play the macabre role of Frida. Another of Ericourt’s ‘ideas’, since he maintained that the girl had shown herself to be a good actress the day the photographs were stolen. The image of the young woman, dressed in señora Eidinger’s fur coat and multicoloured silk scarf, was like a punch to his retina. Her hands nervously clutched the suede handbag.
“Good evening,” said Ericourt cheerfully from behind.
“I see no reason to feel so pleased,” thought Lahore, “I can’t say it’s a professional triumph. We started with one death and now we’ve got three deaths and a disappearance.”
Ericourt pulled him into a corner.
“Royal flush,” he said in his ear. “I heard from the laboratory this afternoon. I now know where the cyanide was. I had my suspicions. Where were you? I tried to find you to tell you.”
“Working,” replied Lahore. “I’ve been following the trail of Emilio Villalba. He’s got a history of theft in a butcher’s where he worked. Where did they find the cyanide?”
Ericourt whispered a few words to him. Lahore shrugged his shoulders and shot a vague look over to where Betty was sitting.
“That’s no great help to us.”
Magnesium flashes from the cameras announced the arrival of the Examining Magistrate, accompanied by his secretary and a clerk. Both men stepped forward to meet Dr Corro.
The scene in the lift went smoothly. Betty watched impassively as the two men talked and Luchter went to open the handbag to possibly get rid of the compromising key ring. Soler repeated the movement that made the bag fall from the doctor’s hands.
There were no questions. None of the actors exchanged words or made any gesture besides those strictly necessary. When the cameras focused on them, Luchter lowered his eyes and Soler smiled. Betty discreetly lifted the collar of the fur coat to shield her face, holding it away as if the warmth of the fur disgusted her.
Once the scene had finished, the retinue went up in the service lift to the Iñarra family’s apartment. There the reconstruction would take place without the presence of journalists or photographers. The press had been told it would be nothing more than a simple interrogation.
Señor Iñarra and his wife were under police watch. A tartan blanket covered Don Agustín’s frail knees, and he was freshly shaved and groomed. Gabriela looked like a defeated woman. She was dressed simply and her black clothes gave a greenish tint to her dark skin and eyelids, which were swollen from crying and lack of sleep.
When the retinue entered the living room, all eyes fell on Gabriela’s dark face. A grimace of distress thinned her red lips. She and Luchter made no move to reach out to one another. The world of sensations that had united them for more than two years had brusquely shattered.
She got up, as if awaiting orders, with the same humble attitude she’d had when she came to that home years earlier, when Don Agustín’s first wife was still alive and she did not want to become what the world calls a loose woman.
On the side table, next to the armchair where Frida had sat, they had laid out a glass of whisky, the silver cigarette case, the spherical lighter and an ashtray. On Ericourt’s orders, all those present sat around the table. Señor Iñarra’s hands clutched the arms of the chair. Everyone else smoked cigarette after cigarette. Betty took her place in the chair next to the small smoking table.
“If you please, madam,” Ericourt called Gabriela, indicating the armchair across from where Betty was sitting.
There was a brief silence before Ericourt began speaking.
“I must tell you that this is not a formal reconstruction as such, because we do not know the true cause of señora Eidinger’s death. The scene we shall witness will, in essence, be a line of questioning. We are making use of the scenario to better grasp certain details, which may lead us to a fuller understanding of the events. Some of you are here because your first statements were not entirely truthful and, as a result, you may have become accomplices by accessory.
“Señora de Iñarra, according to your statement, which was subsequently confirmed by Dr Luchter, it was untrue that señora Eidinger did not visit the building. She used to come at night, using a key that Dr Luchter himself had given her, but she only had a key to the main door.”
Ericourt turned to Eidinger.
“You have stated that you suspected your wife of having relations with persons unknown to you. Were you referring to Dr Luchter?”
“I was entirely unaware of that relationship,” said Eidinger.
“Before I go on, I must tell you that no photographs were stolen from your house. Señor Czerbó promised señorita Iñarra that he would stop his blackmail if she got hold of those photographs for him. She went to see you with the sole intention of getting her hands on them, which she managed. Our presence in the house made her think of faking a robbery. She tore up the photographs and threw them down the toilet.”
Gustavo Eidinger’s eyebrows arched in an expression of deep surprise.
“My God! I had no idea,” he said.
“So we are faced with an incident,” Ericourt went on, “which only subsequent events have led us to consider a crime. Without Boris Czerbó’s death and the disappearance of Emilio Villalba, Frida Eidinger’s death could well have been a suicide.
“Señora de Iñarra was the last person to see Frida Eidinger alive. She states that she had absolutely nothing to do with the death by poisoning. Señor Iñarra also denies having put cyanide in the glass of whisky he served his wife.
“This rare circumstance has given rise to others of a criminal nature. The Examining Magistrate must collect all the elements of the case. One of the most important is the scene that took place here on the night of the 23rd of August.
“Those of you who knew Frida Eidinger are in a position to accept or refute señora de Iñarra’s statements. Your observations may help us arrive at a verdict of suicide or murder.
“In fact, if we accept that Frida felt jealous of señora de Iñarra, we can also accept that she might have thought the battle was lost and decided to implicate her in her mysterious death as a peculiar form of revenge.
“Moving on to the second hypothesis: señora de Iñarra is an unhappy woman. Her family security is compromised because someone is blackmailing her. She trusts her stepdaughter, who offers to deal with the blackmailer personally. A new threat appears unexpectedly in the form of Frida Eidinger.
“Señora de Iñarra could have been lying when she said that the 23rd of August was the first time she saw the victim. She may have deliberately arranged to meet her that night.
“Why run the risk of meeting her in her own home? It wasn’t easy for señora de Iñarra to find pretexts for going out. Perhaps she tried but señor Iñarra’s sudden crises spoilt her plans. Eventually, at the other woman’s insistence, she had to receive her at home.
“The third hypothesis is that señor Iñarra, also seeking revenge, poisoned the whisky to kill his wife. According to señora de Iñarra’s statement, señor Iñarra knew what was going on.”
Ericourt paused. The faces of Betty and her father bore remarkably similar pained grimaces; Luchter and Eidinger were very pale, and drops of sweat shone around their hairlines. Soler was shifting in his seat, waiting for the moment, which was taking far too long to arrive, when his name would be pronounced to explain why he was there.