The afternoon dragged on. Frau Else never turned up at the hotel, nor did El Quemado appear on the beach, though at six the sun came out, and near the point by the campgrounds I spotted a pedal boat, beach umbrellas, and people playing in the waves. My stretch of beach wasn’t as lively. The hotel guests had signed up en masse for an excursion—to a vineyard or a famous monastery, I seem to remember—and the only people left on the terrace were a few old men and the waiters. By the time it started to get dark I knew what I wanted to do, and soon afterward I asked the reception desk to put through a call to Germany. Before the call went through I had reviewed the state of my finances and discovered that I had only enough to pay the bill, spend one more night at the Del Mar, and put a little gasoline in the car. On the fifth or sixth attempt I managed to reach Conrad. His voice sounded sleepy. And there were other voices in the background. I got straight to the point. I said I needed money. I said I planned to stay a few more days.
“How many days?”
“I don’t know, it depends.”
“Why are you staying?”
“That’s my business. I’ll return the money as soon as I get back.”
“The way you’re acting, a person might think you plan never to come back.”
“What an absurd idea. What could I do here for the rest of my life?”
“Nothing, I know. But do you know it?”
“Actually, there are things I could do here: I could work as a tour guide, start my own business. This place is full of tourists, and a person who can speak three languages will always be able to find work.”
“Your place is here. Your career is here.”
“What career are you talking about? The office?”
“I’m talking about writing, Udo, the articles for Rex Douglas, the novels, yes, listen to me, the novels you could write if you weren’t such a mess. I’m talking about the plans we’ve made together… The cathedrals… do you remember?”
“Thank you, Conrad, yes, you’re probably right…”
“Come back as soon as you can. I’ll send the money tomorrow. Your friend’s body must already be in Germany. End of story. What more is there for you to do there?”
“Who told you that they’d found Charly?… Ingeborg?”
“Of course. She’s worried about you. We see each other almost every day. And we talk. I tell her things about you. From before you met. The day before yesterday I took her to your apartment. She wanted to see it.”
“My apartment? Shit! And did she go in?”
“Obviously. She had her key but she didn’t want to go alone. Between the two of us we cleaned it up. The floor needed sweeping. And she took some things of hers, a sweater, some records… I don’t think she’ll be happy to hear that you’ve borrowed money in order to stay longer. She’s a good girl, but there’s a limit to her patience.”
“What else did she do there?”
“Nothing. I told you: she swept, threw out the spoiled things in the refrigerator…”
“She didn’t go through my files?”
“Of course not.”
“What about you? What did you do?”
“For God’s sake, Udo, the same things.”
“All right… Thanks… So you see each other often?”
“Every day. I think it’s because she doesn’t have anyone to talk to about you. She wanted to call your parents, but I convinced her not to. I don’t think it’s a good idea to worry them.”
“My parents wouldn’t worry. They know the town… and the hotel.”
“I don’t know. I hardly know your parents, I don’t know how they’d react.”
“You hardly know Ingeborg either.”
“True. You’re our connection. Though it seems to me that we’ve gotten to be friends, in a way. These last few days I’ve gotten to know her better and I really like her. She’s not just beautiful, she’s smart and practical too.”