A woman appeared in the driveway. She was difficult to miss because she had red hair, green eyes and skin so white it was painful to look at in the brutality of the sunlight.
'Hola, Consuelo,' she said, homing in on her amongst all the official faces.
'Hola, Maddy,' said Consuelo, who introduced her to everybody as Madeleine Krugman, Sra Vega's next- door neighbour.
'Is there something wrong with Lucia or Rafael? I saw the ambulance. Can I do anything?'
All eyes were on Madeleine Krugman, and not just because she spoke Spanish with an American accent. She was tall and slender with a full bust, an unstarved bottom and the innate ability to give dull men extravagant imaginations. Only Falcon and Calderon had sufficient testosterone control to be able to look her in the eye, and that required concentration. Consuelo's nostrils flared with irritation.
'We need to get into this house very urgently, Sra Krugman,' said Calderon. 'Do you have a set of keys?'
'I don't, but… what's the matter with Rafael and Lucia?'
'Rafael's lying on the kitchen floor not moving,' said Consuelo. 'We don't know about Lucia.'
Madeleine Krugman's short intake of breath revealed a straight line of white teeth broken only by two sharp incisors. For a fraction of a second the invisible plates in the lithosphere of her face seemed to spasm.
'I have the telephone number of his lawyer. He gave it to me in case there was a problem with the house while they were on holiday,' she said. 'I'll have to go back home…'
She backed away and then turned to the gate. All eyes fastened on to her rump, which shivered slightly under the white linen of her flared trousers. A thin red belt like a line of blood encircled her waist. She disappeared behind the wall. Male noises, which had been suspended under the bell jar of her glamour, resumed.
'She's very beautiful, isn't she?' said Consuelo Jimenez, annoyed at her own need to draw attention back to herself.
'Yes,' said Falcon, 'and quite different to the beauty we're accustomed to around here. White. Translucent.'
'Yes,' said Consuelo, 'she's
'Do we know where the gardener is?' he asked.
'He's disappeared.'
'What do we know about him?'
'His name is Sergei,' she said. 'He's Russian or Ukrainian. We share him. The Vegas, the Krugmans, Pablo Ortega and me.'
'Pablo Ortega… the actor?' asked Calderon.
'Yes, he's just moved here,' she said. 'He's not very happy.'
'That doesn't surprise me.'
'Of course, it was you, wasn't it, Juez Calderon, who put his son in jail for twelve years?' said Consuelo. 'Terrible case that, terrible. But I didn't mean that when
I said… although I'm sure that's a contributing factor. There's a problem with his house and he finds the area a bit… dead after living in the centre of town.'
'Why did he move?' asked Falcon.
'Nobody in the barrio would talk to him any more.'
'Because of what his son did?' said Falcon. 'I don't remember this case…'
'Ortega's son kidnapped an eight-year-old boy,' said Calderon. 'He tied him up and abused him over several days.'
'But didn't kill him?' asked Falcon.
'The boy escaped,' said Calderon.
'In fact it was stranger than that,' said Consuelo. 'Ortega's son released him and then sat on the bed in the soundproofed room he'd prepared for the kidnap and waited for the police to arrive. He was lucky they got to him first.'
'They say he's having a hard time of it in prison,' said Calderon.
'I can't find any pity for people who destroy the innocence of children,' said Consuelo, savagely. 'They deserve everything they get.'
Madeleine Krugman returned with the telephone number. She was now wearing sunglasses as if protecting herself from her own painful whiteness.
'No name?' said Falcon, punching the number into his mobile.
'My husband says his name is Carlos Vazquez.' '
'And where's your husband?'
'At home.'
'When did Sr Vega give you this number?'
'Before he went to join Lucia and Mario on holiday last summer.' 'Is Mario the child who slept at your house last night, Sra Jimenez?'
'Yes.'
'Do the Vegas have any family in the Seville area?'
'Lucia's parents.'
Falcon broke away from the group and asked to speak to the lawyer.
'I am Inspector Jefe Javier Falcon,' he said. 'Your client, Sr Rafael Vega, is lying on his kitchen floor incapacitated, possibly dead. We need to get into his house.'
A long silence while Vazquez digested this devastating news.
'I'll be there in ten minutes,' he said. 'I advise you not to try to break in, Inspector Jefe, because it will certainly take you much longer.'
Falcon looked up at the impregnable house. There were two security cameras on the corners. He found two more at the back of the building.
'It seems the Vegas were very security conscious,' he said, rejoining the group. 'Cameras. Bulletproof windows. Solid front door.'
'He's a wealthy man,' said Consuelo.
'And Lucia is… well, neurotic to say the least,' said Maddy Krugman.
'Did you know Sr Vega before you moved here, Sra Jimenez?' asked Falcon.
'Of course. He told me that the house I eventually bought was going to come up for sale before it appeared on the market.'
'Were you friends or business associates?'
'Both.'
'What's his business?'
'Construction,' said Madeleine. 'That's why the house is built like a fort.'
'He's a client of mine at the restaurant in El Porvenir, ' said Consuelo. 'But I also knew him through Raul. They were in the same business, as you know. They joined forces once on some developments in Triana years ago.'
'Did you know him just as a neighbour, Sra Krugman?'
'My husband is an architect. He's working on some projects for Sr Vega.'
A large silver Mercedes pulled up outside the house. A short, stocky man in a white long-sleeve shirt, dark tie and grey trousers got out. He introduced himself as Carlos Vazquez and ran his fingers through his prematurely white hair. He handed the keys to Falcon, who opened the door with a single turn. It had not been double locked.
The house seemed bleak and freezing after the heat of the street. Falcon asked Juez Calderon if he and the forensics could take a quick look before the Medico Forense started his work. He took Felipe and Jorge to the edge of the tiled floor of the kitchen. They looked, nodded to each other and backed away. Calderon had to prevent Carlos Vazquez from entering the kitchen and contaminating the crime scene. The lawyer didn't look as if he was used to having a hand placed on his chest by anybody but his wife in bed. The Medico Forense, already gloved, was ushered in. While he checked for a pulse and took the temperature of the body Falcon went outside and asked Consuelo and Madeleine if they would be available for interviews later. He made a note that Consuelo was still taking care of Vega's son, Mario.
The Medico Forense murmured into his dictaphone as he checked the ears, nose, eyes and mouth of the victim. He took a pair of tweezers and turned over the plastic bottle which lay close to the body's outstretched hand. It
