“He was one of them.” The lieutenant cut him off. “You already said you didn’t even know his family existed. One thing I do know: according to what little I’ve been able to gather, álvaro was living a double life. I don’t know what he was mixed up in, but in more ways than one he was absolutely not what he seemed to be.”
Manuel sat in silence, watching the man across the table and trying to assimilate this. He did his best to make sense of the tale but felt no indignation. The man was expressing exactly what Manuel had concluded earlier in the day. Past forebodings of betrayal had become reality, shaking him so profoundly that he was determined to follow Clint Eastwood’s advice—Get out of here. This is no time to look for trouble. álvaro had lied to him and led him by the nose. There were lies everywhere in this huge steaming pile of shit, and yes, he was the imbecile who’d swallowed everything, hook, line, and sinker. Acknowledging he’d been a fool was the hardest thing of all. But now that he’d accepted it, what more could be expected of him?
“And now what happens?” he asked listlessly.
The man stared at him and threw his hands up in disbelief. “What’s the matter with you? Weren’t you listening to me?”
“I heard every word.”
The man sputtered in impatience. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen: nothing! They’ll close the case. In fact they already have. álvaro Mu?iz de Dávila officially died in a traffic accident, and that’s that.”
“But you don’t agree with that conclusion, so you’ll keep investigating . . .”
The officer lit another cigarette and took more of those noisy sucking drags. He pushed away the cup with dregs of coffee, as if it contained an idea he found offensive. “Yesterday was my last day. I’m retired. I have a month of vacation, and then I report to the inactive reserve.”
Manuel nodded, understanding now why the man hadn’t come to him in uniform. He was officially no longer a police officer, even though when he’d approached Manuel by the parked cars, he’d identified himself by his rank and flashed his badge. Which raised a different question: Why was he here? He’d already made perfectly clear how much álvaro’s family disgusted him, and he made no secret of his homophobia, so what was he after? Manuel straightened up and pushed his chair back to indicate that the conversation was over.
“Lieutenant Nogueira,” he said, cautiously granting the man his former rank, “I’ve heard you out, and I thank you for your concern. But if the case is closed as you admit, and you’re the only one who disagrees with the official version, why are you telling me? If you couldn’t convince them, what could I possibly do?”
“A lot. You’re a member of the family.”
“That’s not true,” Manuel replied bitterly. “I’m not part of his family now, and it seems I never was.”
“But you are, with full legal rights,” Nogueira countered vehemently. “With your help we could get something done about an investigation that has been dropped.”
“You just told me that you’re no longer on active duty.”
Nogueira’s expression darkened for a moment, just long enough to suggest he could become very aggressive if pressed. But he mastered his emotions. What he said next must have cost him a great deal. “You were his . . . his husband. You could even demand an autopsy.”
Manuel looked at him in surprise and rejected that before he said a word. “No, no, no, you don’t understand. I’ve just buried that man, and he shared my life almost as long as I can remember. That’s probably nothing to you, but I also had to bury with him all that our life together represented. It’s immaterial to me now. I don’t care what he was mixed up in or who was with him in his last moments. None of it matters. I just want to leave this place, go home, and forget it all.” He got up. “Thank you for your trouble, but I just don’t have the energy for this.” He held out his hand, but the man made no move to take it. Manuel looked him straight in the eye, shrugged, and turned to go to the parking lot.
“álvaro was murdered,” Nogueira called out behind him.
Manuel stopped but he didn’t turn.
“It wasn’t an accident. He was murdered.” A moment of silence. “And if you do nothing, the murderer goes free. Can you live with that?”
Manuel’s shoulders sagged. For a moment his feelings and desires seemed to count for nothing; he was trapped by circumstances; and a terrifying, inexplicable power was smashing reality into his face. Sheer inertia had sent him hurtling toward the real world, and now some mindless force was compelling him along a random path chosen by an indifferent universe. Everything in these surroundings was hostile; he should be following Eastwood’s advice and avoiding trouble. But whatever his desires, here was this hateful nobody loading onto his back the weight of the worst possible crime. He felt the shock of this new bombshell buffet him, shake him through and through, and nearly flatten him to the ground. Perhaps it took a minute for him to go back; perhaps it took only a few seconds. He retraced his steps and sank again into the same chair.
If Nogueira was pleased to see him return, he showed no sign of it. He continued smoking slowly, inhaling deeply.
“What do you want to do?” Manuel asked.
Nogueira threw down the cigarette and leaned forward, placing both elbows on the table. A small black notebook appeared in his hands. He opened it to a page covered with bold handwriting.
“The first thing we do is go talk to the medical examiner to show you that what I’ve been telling you is accurate. After that the objective is to reconstruct everything álvaro did over the past two days: where he was, with whom, who he saw, and, if possible, what he did here on his previous visits. His routine here, where he went. I’ll guide you, but you’ll have to do almost all of it by yourself. Nobody will suspect you. You’re entitled to the information, and it’s perfectly normal for a family member to ask about the circumstances of the death of a loved one. If anyone objects, well, that gives us something to work on. But first and foremost I have to warn you it’s possible you might not like what you turn up. Murder investigations have a way of stirring up a lot of muck that otherwise would stay hidden.”
Manuel nodded unhappily. “I expect as much.”
“And one other thing. Whatever does turn up might not be in your favor. I have a hunch, and I’m rarely mistaken, that Mu?iz de Dávila was up to his neck in shit. But if anyone finds out I’m pushing you to take an interest, I can get into serious trouble. I’ve spent too many years in uniform earning that pension. It’s important to keep this totally confidential between the two of us. And the examiner. I trust her completely, so I’ll know that any leak came from you. If that happens, I’ll find you, haul you off behind the mountain, and shoot you dead. Got that?”
“I understand,” Manuel replied. He didn’t doubt the man for a second.
Nogueira checked his watch. “The medical examiner is a real pro with lots of experience. Her shift ended at three o’clock, so she’s probably home now. She’ll be expecting us.”