“Too lucid by far,” interjected the Count. “You’re worse than me.”
The Count, Skinny and Rabbit looked at Andrés as if the guy talking was somebody else: perfect, intelligent, well-balanced, successful, calm, confident Andrés, the Andrés they’d thought they’d always known and whom, clearly, they’d apparently never known at all.
“You’re plastered,” said Skinny, as if trying to protect Andrés’ image and even his own.
“Something’s badly wrong in the kingdom of Denmark,” pronounced Rabbit downing another shot. The clattering of his glass against the table emphasized the silence that had fallen over the dining-room.
“Yes, it suits to say I’m drunk,” smiled Andrés, asking for a re-fill. “Then we can all feel at peace thinking life’s not as shitty as the songs of drunks would have us to believe.”
“What songs?” piped up Skinny, trying to find a route to a more amenable conversation. Only the Count smiled, sourly.
“And today when I left Pre-Uni, I remembered Dulce. Do you remember the day she said she was off, Skinny?”
Carlos asked for more rum and looked at the Count.
“No, I don’t,” he whispered. “Come on, more rum, don’t be so stingy.”
“And have you never stopped to think what would have happened if Andrés hadn’t done his leg in and had married Cristina, and if you, Conde, hadn’t joined the police and had become a writer, and if you, Carlos, had finished university and become a civil engineer and had never gone to Angola, and had more than likely married Dulcita? Have you never stopped to think we can’t turn the clock back, that what’s done is done? Have you never stopped to think it’s better not to think? Have you never stopped to think that at this fucking hour of the day we’ll never buy another bottle of rum and that by now Cristina’s breasts must have sagged? No, it’s better not to think any more crap… Now give me what’s left in that bottle. And bugger the mother of any of you who ever thinks again.”
“No need to worry, they don’t bite. And I don’t start teaching until this afternoon,” Dagmar said as she tried to smile at him, undecided whether she was embarrassed by her dogs’ welcoming barks and bared teeth or was proud to be the owner of such diligent hounds. The Count found her in her doorway, defying the wind, waiting for him like a bride scouring the horizon for the boat that will bring back her beloved. The two ugly mongrels, eager to show their rapid reactions, soon subdued their ostentatious woofs and wagged their tails as they ended their wild act. She invited him in and pointed him to a sofa where the Count sank helplessly as into a bottomless swamp. He felt tiny and inferior under the high ceiling, even more remote now, in that airy, shadowy La Víbora house. “Yes, it’s true, I got on well with Lissette the moment she started teaching at Pre-Uni and I think we were friends. At least I felt I was her friend and I was much upset by…”
Conde let her take a breath and was pleased he’d dispatched Manolo to talk to the forensic doctor. If the sergeant had been able to overcome his fear of dogs, he’d have launched a fresh attack right away. While he waited, Conde remembered again that it was Friday. Friday at last, he’d told himself when he opened his eyes that morning to discover miraculously that everything was in order and he didn’t have a headache. Only ideas.
The moment his flabby descent seemingly came to an end and his policeman buttocks anchored to a spring that had survived the weight of a thousand bums, the Count smiled. She followed suit, as if apologizing for her welcome speech, and when she did she almost looked beautiful. Dagmar was around thirty but retained the fragility of an adolescent who has yet to blossom: big mouth and teeth as if in a growth spurt, eyebrows spreading to the bridge of her nose and a degree of imbalance between legs and arms that were over-long for her skinny thorax and tiny breasts.
“What can you tell me about Lissette’s private life? Who did she use to go out with? Who was her current love?”
“You know, lieutenant, I don’t know very much about any of that. I’m married and have a child and as soon as classes finish I rush back home. But she was, as you say, a modern girl, and not one with commitments like me. I did meet one boyfriend she had, Pupy, but they fell out, although he still went after her and picked her up from Pre-Uni every so often. He’s a looker, for sure. I don’t know what else… Come to think of it, she never said much about that side of her life.”
“Had she been going out with a man who was in his forties?”
Dagmar’s smile faded. She stroked her forehead with her long fingers, as if trying to chase away sudden pain or squash an unexpected train of thought.
“Who told you that?”
“Caridad Delgado, Lissette’s mother. She mentioned him but didn’t know who he was.”
Dagmar smiled again and looked towards a distant corner of her house. In addition to physique which made Conde uncomfortable, the departmental head exuded an excessive sense of responsibility.
“No, lieutenant, I can tell you nothing about that man. She never mentioned him. I expect he was a flash in the pan.”
“Perhaps, Dagmar… They say she had very good relationships with her pupils.”
“That is certainly true,” the teacher answered straight away. She seemed pleased by the turn in the conversation. “She got on very well with them all and I think they were very fond of her. The fact is she was very young.”
“Did she ever tell you why she didn’t do her Social Service in the interior of the island?”
“No… Well, she did once say something about a stepfather, I don’t know if you are aware…”
“I imagined that must be it. When was the last time you saw Pupy around Pre-Uni?”
“On Monday. The day before…”
“Is there anything else you think it’s important I should know about Lissette?”
She smiled again and crossed her legs.
“I don’t know, just imagine… Lissette was like an earthquake; she turned everything upside down. She was always doing something, was always ready to have a go. And was ambitious: everyday she’d make it plain she could be much more than a mere chemistry teacher like me. But she wasn’t one to climb over everyone else. It was just she was so full of energy. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to do that to her. That was horrible, really barbaric.”
A madman, a psychopath who beats his victims, then rapes and strangles them. Could Skinny be right? Or would everything be much simpler if she were an opera singer?
“Dagmar, there’s something stands out in all this business and don’t be afraid to answer me sincerely. I’ll treat whatever you say confidentially… There was a party at Lissette’s the night she was killed. Music, rum, and people smoking dope,” the Count counted each element on his fingers and saw the surprise in the teacher’s eyes provoked by the last item of information. “Do you have any idea if Lissette smoked? Have you heard any talk about dope at Pre-Uni?”
“Lieutenant,” she said after pausing a long time to think. She passed her magician’s fingers back across her brow, never once smiling.
“No, it’s not very nice, I know,” concluded the Count, “this is what you call serious.”
“I can’t imagine Lissette doing anything of the sort. I refuse to believe that. People can say what they like. It’s not true people always speak well of the dead… And forget the idea about kids smoking dope in Pre-Uni. It’s quite ridiculous. Forgive my plain speaking.”
“You’re forgiven,” the Count conceded, struggling to lever his behind out of the quick sands of her sofa. When he’d recovered the two-leggedness that meant so much in man’s evolution, he had to re-position his pistol that threatened to slip out of his waistband. He then thought perhaps Manolo should have been there, and in his honour, declared with suitable acerbity, “I’d had great expectations of this conversation. I still think you could have been more helpful. Remember someone is dead, a friend of yours, and any scrap of information is useful right now. Forgive my saying this, but I have a job to do: I don’t really know why, but I think you’re holding something back. Look, these are my contact numbers. If anything else comes to mind, ring me, Dagmar. I’d be very grateful. And don’t be afraid.”