Manuel declined with a smile. “You do it. I . . . well, we had our celebration the other day, didn’t we? Today I have to . . .” He waved vaguely toward the road up out of the ravine.
Daniel gave him a big smile and extended his hand. “Really, you have no idea how much this means.” He held up the documents, visibly moved. He shook Manuel’s hand and just as he seemed about to release it, he impulsively gave Manuel a big hug. He stepped back, slightly flustered. “Thanks, boss!” He backed away toward the warehouse door, never taking his eyes from Manuel.
“Just one more thing,” called Manuel.
The cellar master suddenly realized that he was holding the documents. “Oh, of course!” He came back and held them out.
“No, I wasn’t referring to those,” Manuel said. “They’re copies for the men; they can have them. I was going to ask you about the motorboat we took from Belesar to go downriver.”
Daniel grinned and took out a bunch of keys. He found two and offered them. “You know, after all, it’s yours now. Don’t worry, if you can drive a car, you’ll do fine as a boat captain.”
SQUAWKS
Manuel made a reservation at a steak house the innkeeper had recommended, and at nine o’clock that evening he was waiting patiently for his guests to appear.
He hadn’t had much difficulty convincing Lucas of the need for a get-together, but Nogueira had been far less willing.
“Shit, Manuel, he’s a priest! How do you think he’s going to take it? He’s not going to like it.”
“Not at all, Nogueira. You don’t know him at all. He was a close friend of álvaro, ever since they were kids, and he’s the only person around here álvaro stayed in contact with all those years. álvaro trusted him, and so do I.”
“Wait and see,” was Nogueira’s response. “But I’m not convinced. How did things go at the seminary?”
“Just as we expected. My agent telephoned, and the heavens opened as soon as she mentioned my name. She told them I was in the region gathering background for a new novel, and I wanted to learn more about the monastery. They fell all over themselves offering to help. They’re expecting me tomorrow morning, but I think it’s important to talk to Lucas first. He attended school there, and he was álvaro’s best friend. If anything related to that place comes up, Lucas can help us out.”
The trio’s first few minutes at the steak house were marked by an awkward formality, but with the fireplace blazing, the proprietor serving up abundant measures of home cooking, and the bottle of Heroica Manuel had chosen from the wine list, they all relaxed.
They’d gotten to coffee when Manuel laid out the plan for Lucas. Nogueira was somewhat dismayed to hear Manuel outlining what they’d learned about the disappearance of To?ino and the prior’s bizarre reaction.
Nogueira took the floor. “He denied the call, the visit, and even the fact álvaro studied at the seminary for a while. Blanket denial. That seems significant.”
“Maybe not. álvaro wasn’t there for so very long—from the age of four until he was twelve,” Lucas responded. “We were in seventh grade when he left.”
“Between seventh and eighth?” Nogueira asked.
“No.” The priest paused as if to consider the importance of what he was going to say. “In fact he left in the middle of the school year.”
Nogueira and Manuel exchanged a quick glance.
Manuel made a guess. “Did they expel him? Was that the straw that broke the camel’s back? Is that why his father sent him to boarding school in Madrid?”
“Not exactly,” Lucas responded, “although I remember there was a rumor to that effect at school.”
“So what happened? Do you know?” asked Manuel.
“álvaro told me many years later. All I remembered was that there was a huge tumult. One of the brothers committed suicide by hanging himself from the ceiling beam of his cell, and apparently álvaro found him.” Lucas looked at Manuel, clearly surprised. “Didn’t the prior mention that?”
Manuel shook his head wearily. “No. No, he didn’t.”
Lucas did his best not to acknowledge Manuel’s sour look. “Of course, the official version was quite different. They told us Brother Verdaguer had died during the night. That was all. And not a word about álvaro, despite all the rumors. All we knew was that álvaro was in the infirmary, very upset, and they called the marquis, his father, who came to get him. álvaro didn’t come back to class or to the school.”
Nogueira was obviously intrigued. “Did you ever ask him about it?”
“Of course, the next time I saw him, quite a while later. He told me that finding Brother Verdaguer dead left him in a state of shock. At first they tried to hush it all up. They sent him to the infirmary, but when he’d been there for hours and showed no sign of improvement, the prior got worried and finally informed his father. The prior and the marquis decided that the best thing to do was to get him out of there. They thought he’d have difficulty getting over it if he stayed. The next thing we heard was from his brother, Santiago. álvaro was at a school in Madrid. I saw him one or two more times back then. He was changed; he seemed unhappy. I was just a boy, but I could see he didn’t want to discuss it. Then he didn’t come back anymore, and it was years before I saw him again. When I was going to be ordained, my mother sent álvaro an invitation through the school in Madrid. He came to the ceremony, and we stayed in contact after that.”
Nogueira spoke up. “How about his brother?”
“Santiago stayed at the seminary school. Actually, Santiago seemed to come into his own once álvaro was gone. I think he’d always suffered from a mixture of admiration and jealousy, and with álvaro gone he perked up. His grades improved. I had to repeat a year, so he caught up with me. He was one of the best students in our class, right up until we graduated. Then he went to university.”
“Were you friends?”
“Friends? I had to explain that to Manuel the other day. Except for álvaro, the members of the Mu?iz de Dávila family look down on the rest of us mere mortals. I’m the son of a schoolteacher, and I was there on a scholarship. The other boys were from good families—or, at least, from wealthy families—but not one of us had parentage like theirs. I very much doubt Santiago had any real friends among those boys.”
Manuel watched Nogueira nodding slowly as Lucas spoke. The priest’s description of the Mu?iz de Dávila clan seemed to have gained him some points with the policeman.
Their after-dinner discussion had taken quite a while, and they were the only clients left in the place. Nogueira took out a cigarette and held it up for the proprietor to see. The man nodded, went to the front door, and locked it.
“With your permission,” Nogueira said to his table companions.
They made vague gestures of dispensation. Nogueira took a deep drag on his cigarette. “I was a young cop back then, and I wasn’t assigned here. But I seem to recall my brothers mentioning some story about a monk who got hanged. What can you tell me about that suicide?”
“Well, I don’t remember much about him. He taught in the primary school. The official version is that he died in his sleep, but it was rumored that he killed himself. He was known to be suffering from cancer. It was in the final stages and he was in great pain. I’m inclined to share the view that the Church authorities were trying to cover it up. That’s all too common, I’m sorry to say.”
Nogueira was pleasantly surprised. “You don’t approve?”
“Of course not. I’m not justifying suicide, but I can understand that the suffering might have been unbearable. Times were different then. There were fewer ways to alleviate pain than we have today, and you can’t judge others unless you’ve endured similar pain. But facts are facts.”
Nogueira approved.
Manuel was fascinated by the story. “álvaro didn’t tell you any more than that?”