“Why doesn’t she turn the porch light on?”
“She’ll be looking for it...”
“Hell, you don’t need to go to university to find the porch light switch. They’re all in the same place.”
“Give it time.”
They did. After a little more than a minute’s wait, the light was finally turned on. Now, the female silhouette was making its way up the stairs. She was wearing high heels. Judging by the way she walked, she was not used to them.
On the second floor, a door was waiting open for her. The woman entered the apartment and the door closed behind her. Shortly afterwards, Isaac poked his head out of the window. From there, he made an ‘okay’ symbol to the police car and, next thing, he lowered the blinds. In one movement, right down.
“Goodnight,” murmured the corporal.
“Have a happy and agreeable night of sex,” added the constable. “Hope she gives you a heart attack.”
The two policemen reclined once more in their seats and relaxed. It was not long before they remembered the cupcakes that Isaac had left them, which they had left haphazardly on top of the dashboard. There were still two left. The corporal leaned forward to get them.
“You want one?” he said to the constable, offering one to him. “It’s our part of the deal.”
“Okay.”
As soon as he had closed the blind, Isaac turned back round and fixed his eyes on his latest acquisition. The woman had sat down on the bed, with her legs crossed. She was still dressed, although he was visualising her naked. Isaac made to approach her. Stopped him:
“The money first,” she said, getting up.
He smiled. He took out a wad of notes from the second draw of his bedside table, held together with a rubber band. Before giving it to her, he asked:
“Do you offer any extras?”
“All of them, provided you’re generous. Like I already told you on the phone.”
He showed her the wad of notes, and chucked it onto the bed with disdain. With the money in sight, he felt he had the right to carry on with the questions:
“Any limits?”
The woman looked at the wad out of the corner of her eye. She seemed surprised by the amount.
“Not many,” she said. “Don’t leave any marks, or cause unwarranted pain.”
Then she took the money and put it away in her bag, without counting it.
“As for everything else, you have free rein,” she added. “For the whole night.”
Now, he was the one to sit on the bed, waiting for her to approach. She did not. Instead, the woman took off her shoes and tied up her hair.”
“You start taking your clothes off,” she said, under Isaac’s increasingly lascivious gaze, “and I’ll go and run us a relaxing bath. It’s the best way to start.”
She didn’t wait for a reply, and went to the bathroom. On the way, she paused in the doorway to the bedroom, smiling for the first time since her arrival.
“We have all night,” she added. “I promise you’ll touch heaven with your own hands.”
Maybe this wasn’t exactly the start that Isaac had imagined but, in any case, that last sentence promised sensations the likes of which he was not going to refuse.
In the bathroom, the woman looked for a bottle of bath gel, and emptied a good amount of it into the bath. Next, she closed the plug and turned on the tap, so that the mere pressure of the water coming out of the showerhead foamed up the gel. She folded a bath towel, and placed it on top of the closed toilet lid, at the foot of the bath, and another smaller one at the head of the bath. Finally, she put her hand through the bubbles and checked the temperature of the water. It seemed adequate.
Isaac, naked, watched her from the hallway. He thought that the woman’s attention to detail was exceptional for a prostitute. However, for some reason, it made him feel good. It also excited him. For the time being, at least, he’d allow her to continue.
When she finished with the preparations, she turned around to go to the bedroom, with a bath towel in her hand. She smiled upon seeing him. Then, she looked him up and down. She approached him and whispered in his ear:
“Wait for me in the bathroom. I’ll just be a minute getting ready, and then I’ll come and join you.”
Isaac did not protest. She went even closer to him, putting her arm around his neck for a second.
“Don’t let the water get cold,” she added, suggestively.
She brought her arm away slowly, and went to the bedroom, amusing herself with her walk. He watched as she walked away.
When her slight frame disappeared behind the door, Isaac got into the bath and stretched out. The water was perfect, the bubbles were all the while becoming more abundant, and he was intrigued as to why she had taken a towel with her. He let his head lean back, against the second towel, closed his eyes and thought about what surprise the woman would be preparing for him. He heard her bare footsteps; soon she would be back. The night was promising.
After a few brief seconds waiting, a slight noise made him open his eyes. Isaac saw the woman enter the bathroom.
“You’ve still not got undressed?” he asked from the bath.
She didn’t respond. She didn’t look at him. One might even say that she hadn’t even heard him. He insisted, without taking his eyes off her:
“You still haven’t told me your name...”
The woman was still barefoot, and had entered the bathroom with the towel folded over her forearm. She went up to the toilet and placed one foot on the closed lid, followed by the other, so that she was sitting on her heels in front of Isaac. Then, she brought across the arm with the towel on it towards the wall. There was a ‘click’ sound. Once this was done, she answered:
“Emma, my name is Emma.”
“A prostitute called Emma?” asked Isaac, sensing that something was escaping him.
As soon as he finished speaking, she let the towel fall onto the floor and, in her hands, was a small hairdryer plugged into the mains outlet next to the toilet. Then, she specified:
“A woman called Emma, who’s hoping to send you to hell.”
At that moment, Isaac understood everything that, up until that moment, he had not been capable of understanding.
“Have you not even been bothered over the last few days to ask me my name?” insisted Emma, with a certain air of reproach.
Isaac arched his eyebrows. She was right; he hadn’t bothered to ask her. In any case, he now knew who she was.
He stayed there watching her intently, from within the bath, without trying to get out. After a moment, he asked her a question in a tone of voice that, in any other situation, could well have been considered paternal:
“And how do you plan to kill me?”
“I believe that as soon as this touches the water you’re submerged in,” she replied, lifting the dryer slightly, “there’ll be no possibility of you surviving.”
She then turned it on for a moment, barely for a second, and added with a great deal of serenity:
“As you can see, it’s plugged in, the cord’s long enough, and don’t think that I can’t throw it in faster than you can get out.”
Isaac took his time again, thinking about his reply. Then, he began to speak slowly, savouring each word, with a coldness that startled him:
“And I think you watch too many films, but you should realise that reality is very different. This house is old, but it has earth wire. That means that as soon as the electricity running through your little deadly weapon touches a single drop of water, a fuse will blow and we’ll both be left in darkness. That’s all you’ll achieve,” he remarked, accompanying it with a slight movement of his head. “And, if you do end up doing it, all I’ll feel will be a little shock, but you’ll be defenceless. Then, in the darkness, I’ll take all the sexual services I’ve hired you for, for your vulgar attempt to kill me and, finally, I’ll think about what to do with you. I could hand you in, like a good citizen, or maybe I’ll have a better idea.”<
br />
At that moment, a smile spread across Isaac’s face.
“We have the whole night, remember?” he added, with a cynical air of collusion.
“The whole night,” she repeated. “You’ve lowered the blinds, your old neighbour died last year, and you have double-glazing on all of the windows, through which the policemen below can’t see or hear anything that transpires here tonight.”
“Exactly,” he confirmed, satisfied.
Emma now stared blankly at the floor, and the regular stream of words resumed:
“Yes, I’ve checked,” she said, moving her head forward and back. “On Holy Monday, just after sorting out Javi, and whilst I was waiting to call Sebas. I came up here for a while to check that everything was in order, and also to prepare a few things. After breaking all the streetlights on this street, getting into the building wasn’t complicated. I could unlock the door with just a card. Nor was it difficult gaining entry to your flat. You have the bad habit of not locking the door.”
She paused, perhaps giving him time to absorb her words. Then she continued:
“I’ve spent years preparing this. I don’t know why you’re underestimating me,” she reproached. “Over the last year, you’ve responded to four advertisements offering the same sexual services as me, without ever finalising a meeting. But it was incredible; you always searched for them when you were in Ourense, and always found just one. Don’t you realise that the one you were always contacting was me? I’ve known of your sexual pleasures for some time now, but I needed that confirmation, to know that when the moment came, you’d call me and we’d meet,” she reasoned. “And of course, make no mistake, on Monday I also disconnected the earth wires; they’re green and yellow. It doesn’t take an expert.”
Then she focussed her gaze on to Isaac:
“Do you want to bet your life on it?” she asked, with enormous sarcasm.
Isaac’s face had been transforming as Emma had been speaking, to the point that a hint of fear was threatening to show, for the first time in many years.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked doubtfully, from the water. “After all, that happened a long time ago, and you’re okay. You can carry on with your life, it doesn’t make sense.”
Emma continued talking with strict regularity. It seemed that her words were not aimed at anyone in particular, and that she was just speaking.
“In fact,” she said, “I must confess I’ve been so excited about having you like this; naked, defenceless, waiting to die whenever I decided, with the remote hope of you begging for your life. And even though you might not let me have that satisfaction, I always resisted eliminating that possibility.”
“I’m not going to beg,” he murmured.
She lost her gaze once more, searching for some point on the floor on which to focus, before continuing on with her explanation:
“You were all scared. It seemed a good idea to everyone, but you were the one who convinced them to push the car over the edge. Listen, I have an idea, they’ll never find them down there, you said. You damn bastard,” she added, raising the tone of her voice, “there were human beings in there.”
“We were only young then,” Isaac tried to explain, with little conviction.
“It’s funny. This week, not one of you remembered my face, because that day it was all bloodied and broken up, but the worst thing is that not one of you knew my name. And you didn’t even try to find out the names of the people you pushed down into hell. You stupid pretentious little bastards.”
“Listen, I have money, lots of money,” he tried to make himself heard. “You should be focussing on the fact that you’re all recovered now, and I can guarantee you’ll never need to work another day in your life,” he said, waiting for a response. “You’ll have anything you want, as compensation,” he wanted to push the idea.
“I don’t want your money,” she declared.
Then, she continued with her explanation, in the same tone that she had been using until then.
“Do you know how it feels for your baby to be crying in agony by your side for a whole night, and you’re unable to reach him? Just because a self-centred bastard decides for everyone that’s the best way to solve the problem, and save your own lives. Just like that, without batting an eyelid. And what about our lives?” she shouted, staring straight at him. “What happens to ours?”
Isaac lowered his head. Emma did too, and she continued talking.
“My husband died instantly; he never even realised what had happened,” she said, “but my baby didn’t because he was stuck in his seat. When they found us, it was only an hour since I’d stopped hearing him,” she explained in a whisper. “The whole night, I spoke to him, and he endured, and I listened to how he was breathing. I prayed with all my strength for somebody to see us, like I’d never prayed before. But they arrived when it was already too late to save him. And at first you keep talking to him, then afterwards you want to die too and then, in the end, you swear to yourself to keep going, just to get justice. Whatever it takes, at any cost.”
“What do you want, for me to turn myself in?” he insisted. “Do you want me to confess?”
“No. From you, I only want one thing.”
He waited to hear it, slightly lifting his head, making an impatient gesture.
“From you, only one thing,” she repeated, with a haunted look in her eyes. “Your life.”
There was a moment of silence between the two of them.
Then, Isaac got up, taking advantage of the moment. With decision, just the same way he had done everything else in his life. Emma was not startled. Although in reality, the hairdryer fell from her hands into the water as if she had been.
Over the ensuing minutes, the triumphant financial officer who liked to have the world in his hands, who loved risk, to live life on the edge and play with fire, now burned amid the powerful electrical onslaught.
Once those few minutes were over, when the blackness had spread completely over his body to the point of rendering him unrecognisable, Emma unplugged the hairdryer and got down from the toilet seat. Then, she went to the bedroom and returned with a golf ball in her hand. This one was perhaps the most long awaited, the most laboured, and the most hoped for. She did not say anything. She got back up onto the toilet lid and stayed there, crouched. She took her time and enjoyed the moment.
After a long while, she got down and approached the bath. She carefully placed the golf ball in the water, and, finally, she spat on him.
When everything was all finished, she returned to the bedroom and grabbed the keys to Isaac’s A5, which were on top of his bedside table. She put them in her bag, simultaneously taking out a comb and a makeup bag and, with these things in hand, she made her way to the bathroom, smoothing down her hair in the hall as she went.
In front of the mirror, which was still somewhat steamed up, she carefully combed her hair, put on some perfume, and retouched her makeup to excess. It would be almost impossible to recognise her. That’s what she was aiming for.
Emma went down soon after. She turned on the porch light, crossed the threshold to the outside, and went out into the darkness of the street. The two policemen immediately sat up in their seats, surprised. The corporal lowered his window all the way down:
“Miss,” he called out to her, also clicking his fingers, “come here a moment.”
She turned around and walked slowly towards them. As soon as she was next to their vehicle, she crossed her arms over the door and allowed her body to sink down into a crouch, finally resting her chin on her arms. The two policemen hardly saw her eyes.
“The man who hired you told us that you were going to stay the whole night,” said the corporal. “Has something happened?”
Emma took a moment, without moving from her position. She simply looked at them. Finally, she replied:
“Sometimes,” she said, “men make overly ambitious plans, and fall down once the first assault is over.”
“We’re men t
oo. Why are you talking in third person?” he asked.
“No,” she corrected him, “you’re police officers.”
Then she added:
“I don’t know who that guy upstairs is, but if he has a patrol car guarding the door it’s because somebody must be wanting something very bad to happen to him.”
“He’s a right old bastard, that’s for sure,” confessed the constable from the other side. “Has he paid you what you agreed?” he then asked, with an unusual familiarity.
Emma let out a faint smile, which was also reflected in her eyes:
“Every last penny.”
“Well, it’s better that way.”
Then there was a brief silence between them: heavy, and dangerous. Emma broke it immediately, in a tone as crafty as it was confident:
“And now, boys, if you don’t need anything else, will you allow me to call a taxi? I need a good shower.”
The two of them smiled maliciously. She got up in one movement, and began to walk away.
“Goodnight, miss,” said the corporal, poking his head out of the window.
Emma walked slowly, typing something into her phone, with her back to the two officers. They followed her movements via the rear-view mirror. When she reached the street corner, she put the phone away and waited.
“Why is it that prostitutes always end up standing on corners?” asked the constable.
“Habit.”
Barely fifteen minutes later, her slight silhouette had disappeared into the night.
27
Just minutes before two in the morning, and when the two policemen were already waiting for the turnover of shift, the radio sounded from on top of the patrol car’s dashboard. The corporal picked it up unenthusiastically and responded.
“Has the idiot said anything else?” asked Eva on the other end.
“No. In the end, he didn’t come down. And nor do I think he’s planning to, because he’s now closed the blind.”
“Well we need to put pressure on him,” she asserted, “nobody knows anything about Rodrigo.”
The two policemen gestured to each other. Perhaps the time had come to break their end of the agreement with Isaac.
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