“Not well, but I knew her, certainly. We saw each other in passing. A very attractive, young Frenchwoman who was a nurse at the La Paz Hospital, I believe. She asked about my walking because of this silly stick.”
“Do you know where she went when she moved out?”
“I have no idea. We were not that close.”
“I don’t suppose you know why she left her job at the hospital?”
“I would not know that either. But you know, the woman immediately next door to her in number 720, Señora Iglesias, knew her better, I believe. Unlike me, she still works, but I can ask her tonight and give you a call.”
“I have an American mobile number. You’ll need to dial—”
“I’m sure that will be too complicated for me.”
“Then I can give you my hotel number.”
“Much easier,” the man said.
*
Marcus returned to his hotel near the Quintana Metro stop and found a parking spot on the street for the BMW. It was warm, almost hot, and he left his jacket in the car when he set off, looking for a liquor store. When he returned with a bottle of Scotch and a sandwich, he stopped to retrieve his jacket and went inside.
Across the street, a big blond man in jeans and an untucked shirt watched, smoking a cigarette. When Marcus disappeared, so did the man.
Marcus spent the rest of the day at his hotel, holed up with the bottle, watching TV and metering his drinking in case he got a call about Celeste from Dr. Gaytan or the old man with the cane. When nightfall came, he ate the other half of his sandwich and threw caution to the wind, knocking back the whiskey until he was pleasantly inebriated. At some point, he dozed off until the hotel phone rang him awake.
“Is this Marcus?” a man asked.
“Yes, who’s this?” he said groggily.
“I hope I haven’t disturbed you,” the man said. “This is Javier from apartment 717. You know, the one with all the books.”
He sat up. “Of course. No, you’re not disturbing me.”
“I just spoke to my neighbor, Señora Iglesias. She tells me that she spoke to your friend shortly before she left the building. She will gladly speak to you if you wish to see her this evening.”
“That’s fantastic. Please tell her I’ll be there shortly,” Marcus said.
It was nine-fifteen. Rising to his feet, Marcus realized he wasn’t fit to drive. He splashed his face, brushed his teeth and his hair, and grabbed his phone. He groaned when he saw the battery was almost run down; the charger plug had been off. On the street, he hailed a passing taxi and tried using willpower to sober up.
*
At ten o’clock, Abril Segura, on the way home from the airport, called Marcus and got put straight into voice mail. She tried a second time a few minutes later, then asked her driver to take her to his hotel.
Arriving, she said to the driver, “Wait for me,” then changed her mind and said, “No, just drop me off. I see my car.”
*
Mrs. Iglesias was a nice woman who seemed delighted to have an American pay a visit. She too was a passable English-speaker. She took the opportunity to invite her neighbor, Javier over and offered up slices of cake. When she asked if Marcus wanted coffee, he jumped on the opportunity to clear his head further. Once ensconced in her frilly sitting room, there was no fast escape. She was determined to give Marcus the details of both her trips to the United States before turning to the subject of her old neighbor.
Finally, he was able to interject, “I understand that you knew Celeste fairly well.”
“What a beauty she was,” the woman gushed. “But you know that.”
“You don’t see all that many redheads these days,” Javier said, cake crumbs falling from his mouth onto his jumper. “It used to be more popular.”
“Did she tell you why she was leaving her job?” Marcus asked.
“I believe I asked,” Iglesias said, “but she was vague. It’s time to move on—yes, that’s what she said. I remember that because I have never moved on from anything. I have always done what I did before. I work for the municipality, you know, ever since I left school.”
“Did she tell you where she was moving?”
“I remember that too. You know, her Spanish was excellent and she spoke with a charming French accent. She told me, ‘I going to the live where I can see the mountains.’ She said, ‘I love mountains.’ She said, ‘I grew up near the Alps.’”
“Which mountains?” Marcus asked.
“Well, I don’t really know, but I’m quite sure it was in Spain. Yes, Spain. I don’t recall why I know, but for some reason I feel certain of that. Javier asked me if I had a forwarding address, but I do not. Would you like more cake?”
Marcus declined and wondered why he couldn’t have been told this less than illuminating information over the phone. This spurred him to check his mobile. It was completely dead.
*
At the hotel reception desk, Segura was told that Marcus Handler’s key wasn’t in its slot, so it appeared he had gone out. She had the clerk ring the room to make sure and when there was no response, she tried his cell phone one last time. She asked the clerk for an envelope, then took a paper from her briefcase and wrote in the margin: Sorry I missed you. Here’s the information you requested. I spotted my car outside—I need it for a meeting tomorrow away from the office. Luckily, I have my spare keys. Let’s grab dinner tomorrow night. OK?
She sealed the envelope, left it at the desk, then rolled her travel bag along the sidewalk to the car.
*
Marcus was seven kilometers away and inside Señora Iglesias’s apartment, when they heard a low, rumbling blast. They had a brief discussion
