The Blind Man of Seville

‘There’s an icon on the computer desktop,’ said Calderon. ‘It’s called Familia Salgado and there’s a card under the keyboard with “Sight Lesson No.3” written on it.’

It was after midday by the time Calderon signed off the levantamiento del cadaver. It had taken Felipe and Jorge hours to take samples of each individual blood spatter in case one of them belonged to the killer. Salgado was removed, the crime scene cleaners disinfected the room. The chair was bubblewrapped and taken down to the police laboratory. It was 12.45 by the time Falcon, Ramirez and Calderon could sit in front of the iMac and watch Familia Salgado.

The film started with repeated takes of Salgado coming out of his house with his briefcase and getting into a taxi. These were followed by repeated takes of Salgado getting out of the taxi on the Plaza Nueva and walking down Calle Zaragoza to his gallery. There followed a succession of cuts — Salgado in a cafe, Salgado in a restaurant, Salgado outside the Bar La Company, Salgado window shopping, Salgado in the Corte Ingles.

‘Yes, so … what’s his point?’ asked Ramirez.

‘The man spends a lot of time on his own,’ said Calderon.

The next scene showed Salgado arriving at the door to a house. It was a classic Sevillana door of varnished wood with ornate brass studs. He arrived again and again at this house, which had a very distinctive terracotta facade, with the doorframe and friezes picked out in a creamy yellow colour.

‘Do we know where this house is?’ asked Calderon.

‘Yes, we do,’ said Falcon. ‘It’s my house … my late father’s house. Salgado was my father’s agent.’

‘If your father is dead,’ said Calderon, stopping the film, ‘why was Salgado …?’

‘He was always trying to get access to my father’s old studio. He had his reasons, which he never told me.’

‘Were you ever in when he called?’ asked Ramirez.

‘Sometimes. I never answered the door. I didn’t like Ramon Salgado. He bored me and I avoided him whenever possible.’

Calderon restarted the movie. Salgado appeared at the intersection of a street. Above his head was a sign to the Hotel Paris and Falcon knew that he was standing on Calle Bailen looking in the direction of the house. Salgado set off. The camera followed him as he weaved through people bustling in the streets. Salgado was following somebody else. It was only as they came up to Marques de Paradas that they could see that he was pursuing Falcon himself. They watched him go into the Cafe San Bernardo, which had an entrance on Calle Julio Cesar. Salgado took the entrance on Marques de Paradas and a ‘chance’ meeting ensued. The camera even came into the cafe, sat down and watched them talking at the bar. The barman set down a cafe solo for Falcon and a larger cup and saucer for Salgado. He returned with a steel jug of hot milk. Falcon recoiled as it was poured into Salgado’s cup.

‘What was all that about?’ asked Ramirez. ‘Did he say something to you?’

‘He’s always asking the same thing. “Can I just have a look in your father’s …”’

‘But why did you step back as if …?’

‘That’s nothing, I just don’t like milk. It’s an allergy or something.’

‘Now we’re at the cemetery,’ said Calderon.

‘This is the Jimenez funeral,’ said Ramirez. ‘That’s me by the cypress filming the mourners.’

The film showed Falcon and Salgado in conversation and then it stopped abruptly. Calderon sat back.

‘Sergio seems to think that you are Salgado’s only family, Inspector Jefe,’ said Calderon.

‘Salgado had a sister,’ said Falcon. ‘He’d just installed her in a home in Madrid.’

‘Was there anything different about that last meeting after the funeral?’ asked Calderon.

‘He offered me information on Raul Jimenez in exchange for access to the studio. He also said he didn’t want anything from the studio but just to spend some time in there. I’d always thought he wanted to put on a final Francisco Falcon show, but he insisted that that was not the case. He made it sound as if it was something nostalgic’

‘What sort of information?’

‘He knew Raul Jimenez and his wife. He implied that he knew who the man’s enemies were. He said that he picked up privileged information from the moneyed clients who frequented his gallery. He implied that he could point me in the right direction, towards people who had trusted Raul Jimenez and been let down by him. We also covered such topics as the cleaning of black pesetas before the new euro currency comes in, how the restaurant business created black pesetas and how property and art were good havens for them. He was making everything sound full of promise, but I know Ramon Salgado …’

‘And you have no idea what he wanted from your father’s studio?’ asked Calderon.

‘Possibly there’s a skeleton buried in all that paper,’ said Falcon, ‘but I doubt I will ever find it.’

‘How well did Salgado know Consuelo Jimenez?’

‘I know for certain that he introduced her to my father and that she bought paintings from him on three occasions. I am also convinced that Consuelo Jimenez knew Ramon Salgado from the Madrid art world and that it might even have been Salgado who introduced her to Raul Jimenez at the Feria de Abril in 1989. She has not been clear about her relationship with Ramon Salgado from the beginning. This could be just her protecting her privacy — she really does not like our intrusions — or it could be that Salgado did know things about Raul Jimenez and she wanted to keep us away from him. She referred to “a friend of her husband’s from the Tangier days”, who I am sure is Salgado. This would mean that the two men had known each other for over forty years.’

There’s a motive in there somewhere, isn’t there?’ said Calderon.

‘She’s had Salgado done as well,’ said Ramirez. ‘I’m sure of it.’