“She died two years ago, really, really old.” He smiled slightly. “When she was very ill and on her deathbed, she told me to open the huge clothes chest in her room. In there, carefully folded, were the sheets and towels embroidered with the crest of the Mu?iz de Dávilas. Her closet was stacked high with them, too, from the floor almost to the ceiling. Can you imagine that? Not a single time in all those years had she used even one of those fine sheets. The day we buried her and came back from the cemetery, I made a fire on the patio and burned them all.” He snorted with laughter. “I can still hear my sisters-in-law making a racket and calling me all sorts of names!”
Manuel joined in his laughter. For a while they both chuckled.
“They still tell that story every Christmas, those crazy bitches!” His laughter died away suddenly. He rose and jerked a thumb toward the door. “I never told anyone what happened to my mother. My brothers don’t know and neither does my wife.” He headed for the exit.
Nogueira didn’t say a single word on the drive between the bar and the inn. It wasn’t necessary. Manuel knew exactly how he was feeling. He remembered unexpectedly why church confessionals always have a screen between the priest and the parishioner. Lacking that protective separation, Manuel concentrated upon his own image reflected in the car window against the black background of the night.
When the car pulled up before the inn, Manuel asked, “Are you going to the seminary tomorrow?”
“Yes. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but the prior says the buildings stand on land that belongs to the marquis. So now it’s your land.”
“If you want me to go along . . .”
“I’m still thinking about how to approach it. The prior and I have known one another for a long time, and if I get him riled he’ll probably call headquarters and get me in hot water: ‘Now the police are interfering with the Church.’ I’ll go solo, and we’ll hold off on your visit until it becomes necessary later on. You have a certain standing as the owner of the property, but that old bird will clam up when you’re there. So we’ll see later on how we can approach it. If we have to.”
Manuel got out of the car and took Café in his arms. The dog was sound asleep.
“Manuel,” Nogueira called from the car. There was something strange in his voice. It took him a moment. “My wife wants you to come have dinner with us.”
Manuel smiled, surprised. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” Nogueira was obviously uneasy. “I don’t know what we were talking about, but your name came up. I mentioned that I knew you, and it turns out my older daughter and my wife have read your books, and they’re just wild to meet you . . . I already told them you probably won’t be able to . . .”
“I accept,” Manuel said.
“What?”
“That’s a yes. I’ll have dinner with the family. I’d be happy to meet your wife. When?”
“When? Uh, well, tomorrow, I guess.”
Manuel stood in the parking lot and watched Nogueira’s car disappear into the distance. He kissed Cafe’s rough little head and walked smiling into the inn.
He needed to write.
OF EVERYTHING HE REFUSED
One by one he opened the drawers of the dressing table, only to find them all empty. In the immense closet the few shirts álvaro had brought hung perfectly ironed on heavy hangers next to the two jackets he’d left behind. They hung abandoned within the closet. Their movement in response to the opening of the door created a disturbing impression. He wanted to touch them, to feel the soft fabric, to let his fingertips search for the elusive presence of their owner.
DAMAGE CONTROL
The San Xoan monastery was commonly called “the seminary” by the people of the region, but there had been no teaching there for the past dozen years. The area previously dedicated to the parochial school had been converted into a hostel for pilgrims and spiritual retreats. Nogueira found such exercises absolutely ridiculous. As far as he was concerned, a vacation wasn’t a vacation unless he could sprawl out in the sunshine with a cold beer on his belly.
The policeman had phoned the prior that he’d be dropping by to pay a call. The man had definitely sounded nervous and hesitant. He insisted on knowing the reason for the visit.
Nogueira had sidestepped the question. “The subject is somewhat delicate. I prefer to discuss it face-to-face.” He was pleased with his counterthrust.
A chilly “As you wish” from the prior had ended the conversation. Nogueira saw the prior waiting outside for him at the gate to the gardens, the church, and the residence. The man seemed extremely jittery; he greeted his visitor with the usual courtesy and escorted him to the office without the usual spiel about the beauty of the grounds. He offered coffee and Nogueira accepted.
The prior took his place behind the imposing monastic desk. “Now, Lieutenant, perhaps you can explain how I may be of assistance.”
Nogueira sipped his coffee and took his time. He admired the portrait hung above the fireplace on one side of the room. He appeared to be about to praise it when he looked at the prior and said instead, “Last Sunday your sister came to the station. She reported your nephew missing.”
Nogueira watched for a reaction, but the prior’s expression didn’t change an iota. After a few seconds of Nogueira’s unyielding silence, the prior gave him a slight nod.
The lieutenant pressed him. “How long have you known about this?”
“My sister telephoned me and told me. Tuesday, I think it was.”
“And?”
The prior got up, heaved a sigh, and went to the window. “If you’re asking whether I did something about it, the answer is no. I’m afraid our nephew has given us entirely too much trouble for me to be surprised by whatever he may be up to.”
“I understand,” Nogueira said, “but your sister says that with all his faults the boy is always considerate of her. He never fails to telephone when he’s going to be out late.”
“My sister has spoiled that boy. You shouldn’t be surprised to hear her make excuses and defend him.”
“As she did, for example, last Saturday when you went to her house?”
The prior gave him a surprised glance, perhaps tinged with alarm. “She told you that?”
“No, I heard it from the neighbor who saw you two shouting and arguing.”
The prior busied himself with adjusting the position of potted plants so they faced the sun.
“What were you arguing about?”
“It’s a private matter. Family business. Nothing important.”
“Well, the neighbor said in her statement,” Nogueira advised him, “that you seemed very angry. You were demanding she turn something over to you. She clearly heard you say it could be the end of you, and you weren’t going to leave things the way they were.”
The prior’s face flushed with anger as he turned back toward the officer. “That old busybody should mind her own business!”
“I’ll grant you the woman’s unpleasant, but she’s a credible witness. That’s why I’m asking, you see. Your nephew evidently had been doing some odd jobs here, then you turn up at his home in a rage the very day he disappears.”
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Lieutenant, but I don’t like this at all.”
“I’m insinuating nothing, Reverend Prior; in fact, I’m trying to do your family a favor, because your sister has been calling the station constantly” (a lie) “to ask what they’re doing to locate To?ino. If she keeps it up, someone’s eventually going to do something about it.”
The prior blanched. When he found his voice again, it was barely audible. “Antonio took something from my office. It’s not the first time he’s stolen. But you know that as well as I do.”
“What did he take?”
The prior held back for a couple of seconds. “Money.” The lie was laughably transparent.
“No doubt you notified the police.”
The prior again had to consider his response. “Lieutenant, he’s my nephew. I don’t want to disgrace my sister.”
“I understand that. But if you know your nephew has committed a crime by stealing money from the seminary . . .”
“It was my money. He took it from my wallet.”
Nogueira took his time. He let six seconds go by before he spoke again. “And that could put an end to you if it were known? That couldn’t be left as it was? I don’t know how much money you generally have in your wallet, but . . .”
“That old gossip got it wrong. What I said was, ‘You’ll do away with me,’ referring to all the trouble he’s causing.”