“I didn’t know you two were acquainted. You and Nogueira.” Manuel stopped to put his thoughts in order. “Well, I saw you recognize one another after álvaro’s funeral. But I didn’t know you were acquainted well enough to have his phone number.”
“Well, ‘acquainted’ would be an overstatement,” the priest replied. “I remembered him from when Fran died. He was one of the first to get there that morning when we found Fran dead. First there was an ambulance, then the police turned up right away, and I came to give Fran extreme unction. I didn’t have a very favorable impression of the policeman. He wasn’t overtly hostile, but he was fairly cold and abrupt. I don’t know why, but I had the impression of an enormous dislike behind his otherwise professional attitude.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Manuel remembered the policeman’s mocking sneer.
“After we ran into him at the entrance to As Grileiras, I went home and looked for his number. I knew I had it somewhere. He’d given me his card after he interviewed me, in case I remembered anything else.”
“And you kept it for three years?”
Lucas said nothing.
“Did you ever think about calling him?”
Lucas shook his head but not very convincingly.
Manuel’s expression became very serious. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.” He paused. “I know what I said the other day at the sanctuary, but I’m starting to have some doubts.”
An echo in his mind: He knows you killed him.
“Doubts? Why? I thought we both concluded it couldn’t have been álvaro. But even if it had been, what difference would that make? It wouldn’t be strange for him to go check up on his brother. And one thing we both agree on: álvaro couldn’t have been implicated in any way in what happened to Fran, or, if Nogueira’s analysis is correct, the moving of the body.” Lucas fell silent and watched Manuel stare at the floor. “Or could he?”
Manuel drained his glass with a long swallow. “I’m not so sure.”
He knows you killed him. Manuel clenched his jaws and tried to resist the implications.
Lucas looked concerned. “You’re not so sure, but about what? You can’t tell me you’ve changed your mind from one day to the next and now have doubts, unless you explain. I thought we made a pact to hide nothing from one another.”
Manuel exhaled slowly, fixing his eyes on a horizon that by now was nearly invisible, reduced to a profile against the night sky’s barely visible blue glow. He turned to the priest.
“You remember what I said about álvaro going to the roadhouse with his brother?”
Lucas nodded unhappily.
“I talked with the prostitute. She said they let everyone think that they’d had sex, but that was just to satisfy Santiago. I believe it, because the man’s so judgmental when it comes to homosexuality, a pure homophobe. Every time I say ‘my husband’ he almost has a stroke.”
“Well,” Lucas said cautiously, “perhaps that was a relief for you.”
“It didn’t last. A few hours later I discovered from his phone records that he’d been in contact with a local hustler.”
Lucas didn’t hide his disgust.
“You know what a hustler is, right? A male prostitute.”
“Of course I know. The fact I’m a priest doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of the world. But I find that even more out of character for álvaro.”
“Lucas, I think you’re still idealizing him the way you did when you were in school together. But álvaro lived on his own in Madrid for many years, and when we met he told me that for a while he’d been, as he said, ‘out cruising a lot,’ with all that implies. After we became close, that was a thing of the past. He told me everything about those days and said he wouldn’t try to hook up ever again. I believed him for a very good reason—he didn’t need to do that anymore.”
“And what’s changed now to make you think otherwise?”
“What’s changed? You might as well ask me what hasn’t changed, Lucas. I have the feeling I don’t know who álvaro was. It’s like I’m discussing a stranger.”
“I think that’s where you’re wrong. I stayed in contact with him throughout all those years, and I don’t believe he changed at all. He was the same valiant, righteous young man I first met. Nothing of what you’re saying makes sense to me.”
Manuel didn’t respond. He felt frustrated, isolated, and misunderstood. He filled their glasses again. “In any case, I think you should tell Nogueira what you saw that night. Or what you thought you saw.”
“I understood that you were of the opinion it’d have a negative impact on the investigation. That as soon as he heard it, he’d stop looking for any other solution.”
“Yes, I remember what I said, but now I know there were other people in the church and the surroundings that night.” He counted them on his fingers. “Herminia was about to go there, but she stopped when she saw Elisa go out for a second time. Elisa saw Fran and Santiago taking leave of one another at the church door just as she got there. Fran went back inside, and Santiago said her fiancé was fine and asked her to go back to the manor because Fran was praying and didn’t want to be disturbed. And from her window Herminia saw the dealer I mentioned before, who just happened to have been Fran’s supplier when Fran was addicted.”
“Shit!”
Manuel glanced at him, surprised by that language, and smiled faintly. “Nobody claims to have seen álvaro; I specifically asked them. Of course I still haven’t had the opportunity to find out from Santiago if he saw anyone other than Fran and Elisa, and I doubt I’ll get the chance. Even if I do, I doubt he’ll cooperate. He wasn’t at all pleased to see me back at As Grileiras this morning.”
“What happened?”
“I went upstairs to álvaro’s room to collect some papers.” He found his thumb rubbing the twin wedding rings on his left hand. “Santiago went wild when he caught me there.”
“Did he hit you?”
That question surprised Manuel. “It’s odd you should ask. No, he ranted and raved for a while in pure frustration; then he exploded and slammed his hand into the wall. I was almost sorry for him. They told me that’s how he usually responds when someone opposes him.” He remembered the spots that had been bleached out of the kitchen wall.
Lucas leaned forward to emphasize the seriousness of what he was about to say. “Manuel, you must be careful. I think it’d be better if you stayed on the sidelines and left the investigating to Nogueira. After all, that’s his job.”
“The authorities officially closed the case. As a traffic accident. And Nogueira has just retired. He stepped down two days after álvaro died.”
“So? I can understand your concern; given the circumstances, it’s normal for you to want to know more. But what’s Nogueira’s interest in this?”
Manuel shrugged. “I really don’t know. I’ve never known anyone like him. To tell the truth, I don’t much like him. He’s disgusting sometimes.” He smiled. “And I’m sure you feel the same way. But anyway, I think he’s one of those men with an odd sense of honor, someone who refuses to leave a job unfinished. That’s why you should talk to him and tell him what you saw. No matter how much I rack my brains, I can’t find any justification for assuming álvaro was implicated.”
Lucas shook his head, put off by the suggestion.
“Anyway, Santiago isn’t the most hostile opponent I’ve run up against. Despite what you may think.”
Lucas studied him again, attentive.
“The marquess invited me to tea in her suite. I could take ten showers and scrub myself raw, but I wouldn’t be able to wash away the slime and venom she spewed all over me. I’ve heard of parents who hate their children, but I’ve never met one before.”