by Chris Lloyd
The other four looked at each other in silence, but only Pau put his hand up.
'Okay, just so I know. Besides that, Àlex and I will be here to help in any of the lines of investigation when you need it. Pau, I want you collating everything we find, looking for patterns and connections.'
'And if I find any?'
'Then it raises two more questions,' she concluded. 'Do we dare go to Puigventós with this?'
'And the second question?'
'Do we dare not?'
Chapter Twenty Six
Elisenda knew before she'd even closed the door to Jutgessa Roca's office and crossed the five hostile paces to a straight-backed wood and leather chair that Roca wasn't going to give her the warrant she needed. The unhurried tilt of the judge's head and the wait before she raised her gaze from some papers on her desk to look at Elisenda told her that.
'You have not yet convinced me to my satisfaction that we are not dealing with gang criminality,' the judge told her.
'No, I don't suppose I have.'
'Until you can give me further evidence to substantiate your bizarre idea that this is anything other than an organised crime matter, Sotsinspectora Domènech, there is little more I have to say on the subject.'
Elisenda stared at the judge as she spoke and noticed as always how the end of her narrow nose dipped momentarily when she said certain words. She had to fight a terrible impulse to put her finger on it to stop it moving.
'We feel that the Masó killing is related to the subsequent sequence of attacks on the four muggers and Mossèn Viladrau. We need to focus our efforts on tackling the cases as a single matter.'
The judge snorted. 'You are the only officer that sees that. They are separate investigations, Sotsinspectora Domènech, and they are to remain separate. I will be recommending that the various cases be distributed to other units within the Mossos to prevent you from empire-building. Now if there's nothing else.'
Elisenda spoke slowly to keep her cool. 'We also need to find the identity of a woman who appears in the DVD left on Mossèn Viladrau's body. I've made an application.'
The judge picked up the official forms that were lying on her table. 'A warrant to subpoena the bishopric to disclose the name and whereabouts of an unknown woman you allege to be linked sentimentally to Mossèn Viladrau. What on earth for?'
Elisenda watched the judge let the papers fall to the desk and calmed herself with a deep breath. 'Because if we're to stop these killings, we need to gather as much information about the individual attacks as we possibly can. We need to speak to this woman to find out what she knows and for the protection of everyone in the city.'
The judge looked at Elisenda and sighed. 'Far be it from me to tell you your job, Sotsinspectora, but wouldn't it be better to find the people carrying out these attacks, not harassing the victims. Have you no respect for the church's wish for privacy?'
'We aren't harassing anyone, Jutgessa Roca. Everything we are doing is aimed at bringing the attacker to justice and making the city safe. That involves questioning anyone who is relevant to our investigation.'
'Well, it smacks to me of harassment, Sotsinspectora Domènech.'
Elisenda sighed. She'd had enough. 'Are you going to give me the warrant? Yes or no?'
'No, Sotsinspectora Domènech, I am not. I have already told you. I cannot sanction your wilful harassment of the victims of these terrible crimes. Now, if you don't mind, I have other more pressing matters.'
Elisenda stood up. 'So do I, judge. It's called upholding the law. I see I'll just have to do it without your help.'
Outside the modern court buildings, Elisenda walked down to the river and leaned against the railings to stare down at the meagre river below to calm herself. She could see the mottled brown-skinned carp idling in motionless formation facing the quiet flow of the water, catching whatever food drifted their way. It struck her that so many of the people she relied on for her investigation appeared to be taking the attacks in the same way. Waiting in the flow for events to come to them, their mouths gaping expectantly.
A familiar sound overhead broke through her thoughts and she looked up. A small red and white plane came from behind her, flying across the city, heading for the coast. She watched it slowly disappear over the ancient rooftops and waited until the earnest sound of the engine died in the distance.
Turning her back to the river, she crossed Plaça Independència and hurried along Carrer Santa Clara, back towards Vista Alegre.
*
'I've been looking for links,' Pau told her once she got back. 'There's nothing that connects either Joaquim or Daniel Masó with Mossèn Viladrau. There's nothing that links the Masó family to the four muggers. They've never worked together and there are no records of any antagonism between them.'
'Until now that Joaquim Masó appears to be pushing his weight about.'
'I've also been trying to find other patterns, but I still can't find any link between the victims. I mean actually between them. Not one mutual victim or individual who might have a grudge against them all collectively. No one who owed Masó money reported being attacked by any of the four muggers. No one who was mugged by them appears to have any beef with Viladrau, and so on. Nothing fits into place in that sense.'
'Okay, let me know if anything does come up. There's something else I want you to have a look at.' She explained how Àlex had come up against barriers every time he had asked the church authorities for help in finding out the woman's identity or whereabouts. 'I'm certain that someone in the church knows who she is, or at least has some idea where she might be.'
'And you want me to use my faith to gain entry?'
'Yes,' she said bluntly. 'Just as I want you to use the fact that you are a Mosso to do what it takes to prevent anyone else from becoming a victim of this person. Are you comfortable questioning someone in the bishopric about Viladrau's whereabouts?'
'Yes, I am,' he answered her, without hesitation.
'Good.' She felt hugely relieved. 'You're the best organiser in the unit. I don't want to have to question your loyalties.'
'You don't.'
Before Elisenda could reply, Montse knocked on the door and leaned in.
'Sotsinspectora,' she said, 'there's something you should see.'
*
'Damn,' Elisenda muttered for the third time.
She scrolled down the page on the computer, taking in all the comments and suggestions.
'We've just found it,' Montse explained.
It was a social network site. A forum. Someone had set up a page about what was going on in Girona, describing the attacks on Daniel Masó, the four muggers and the priest. As usual, the Mossos came in for a lot of criticism.
But none of that was the problem. The problem was that the site had become a message board for anyone who felt like it to give their suggestions as to who deserved to be the next victim. And they did. In their droves. Elisenda read the names of local politicians, businessmen, lawyers, teachers who'd marked their students down, classmates who were outside the favoured cliques, shopkeepers, shop customers, anyone who had in any way slighted anyone else. Petty malice and self-justifying vindictiveness lobbed out from behind the safe anonymity of a keyboard and screen.
'Technology bringing out the best in people,' she muttered.
'There's more,' Montse told her.
She took over the control and scrolled down the many suggestions. A number of names appeared several times.
'Bellsolà gets mentioned a lot.' Pau observed. He was about to comment further but Josep caught his eye and he kept quiet.
'There,' Montse said, stopping the wheel on the mouse. Elisenda leaned in for a closer look at the confusing strips of blue and grey comments made by successive contributors.
She finally spoke. 'Oh good.'
Someone had suggested her name as the next victim.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Pau cadged a lift off Josep to Plaça del Vi rather than put up with the parking
and traffic in the city centre.
'What's that?' Josep asked as they pulled up past the entrance to the bishopric office. He was pointing at a small face carved in stone staring at him from the corner of a building.
Pau looked up. 'En Banyeta.'
'What's it supposed to be?'
'The legend goes that he was a usurer who was found turned to stone one day. They say that if you rub noses with him, you'll be excused all your debts.'
'It's about three metres off the ground. You can't.'
'That's the point,'
Pau watched the Seat drive off and took a deep breath before entering the bishopric. The temperature inside the ancient building was much more chilled than the stifling heat outside and the sweat on his forehead instantly cooled to what felt to him like pinpricks of ice. A woman in a white cardigan and a helmet-stiff hairstyle showed him to a waiting room. He'd rung ahead to request a meeting, but he imagined he'd be kept waiting by the bishop's heavy timetable. As it was, a door opened within a scant ten minutes and a man walked out to greet him.
'Caporal Yáñez?' the man asked, before introducing himself as Mossèn Arnau. 'I am the bishop's acting secretary.'
'Thank you, Mossèn Arnau. I made an appointment to see the bishop.'
'Ah, yes, I'm terribly sorry, Caporal, but I'm afraid the bishop is unable to see you today. He has a very full agenda.'
'I understand that, Father. I appreciate that God's work respects no worldly timetables.'
The priest bowed his head ever so slightly to one side and smiled. Pau could see he'd scored a hit with that. He was also grateful that the man was speaking Catalan. Pau knew that he came across much more softly-spoken and reverential in Catalan than in his parents' Spanish.
'It is good to see that the word of the Lord does not fall on deaf ears among our policemen and women,' Mossèn Arnau commented. 'Please come this way.'
The priest ushered Pau through the double doors into the room out of which he'd emerged and showed him to a pair of elderly but expensive sofas in a large office dominated by a walnut desk. The one discordant note was the beige-grey of a computer monitor in the middle of the desk.
'How may I help you?' the priest asked Pau once they were seated.
'I'm afraid it's rather a delicate matter, Father.'
Mossèn Arnau held up a slender, manicured finger. 'Mossèn Viladrau.'
'Yes, Father.'
'A woeful circumstance, which reflects badly on the church.'
'Mossèn Viladrau was also a victim, Father. He suffered a brutal attack.'
'That's as may be, but we in the church today have to address the sins of the past. We must not be seen to be condoning the unsavoury actions of a previous time in the history of our faith. Despite their being the unsavoury actions of a very small number of our members during that time.'
'I agree, Father. And by that same token, neither can the law be seen to be condoning the unlawful actions of a vengeful society in exacting retribution in this manner on those who have lost their way. It is our duty to bring whoever is committing these acts to a higher justice, both worldly and otherwise, and to protect other, perhaps more innocent, people from suffering similar attacks.'
The policeman and the priest sat in silence for a few moments, considering the other's words. 'So how may I help you?' the priest finally asked.
Pau turned to face him. 'I need to know the identity of the woman who bore a son to Mossèn Viladrau, Father, and where I might find her. For her protection and that of others.'
The priest sighed and smiled gently. 'I am not alone in the church in believing that we should confront our sins, but I am not in the majority either. There are those who feel that it is better for the church to protect itself from public scrutiny.'
Pau remained silent. He knew the next few moments were going to be key.
The priest finally rose from his seat and walked towards the door. 'I should show you out, Caporal Yáñez,' he said.
Slowly, Pau got up. 'Thank you, Father,' he said, barely hiding the disappointment in his voice.
Mossèn Arnau waited for him at the twin doors. Before opening them, he looked at Pau and spoke. 'You should possibly consider a house owned by Mossèn Viladrau in Santa Pau,' he said, quietly reciting an address.
'Thank you, Father,' Pau replied, but the priest simply nodded and pulled the doors closed between the two of them.
Pau had to resist punching the air in triumph until he was outside on the street in front of the diocese bookshop. He rang Elisenda but got her voicemail so he called the station instead and got through to Montse, who told him that Elisenda was at the Institut de Medicina Legal.
Pau hung up and set off on foot for the pathology institute, past the Town Hall, crossing the road where it narrowed at the corner of the square with Carrer Ciutadans. Glancing up, he saw the grotesque little face carved in stone that Josep had mentioned earlier, and carried on walking down to the arches on the Rambla. He stayed underneath them as it was much cooler there than out on the promenade itself. He peered out at the dappled shade as he walked under the arches. Summer had most definitely not given up its hold.
Halfway along, a young Spanish couple visiting the city asked him the way to the Jewish Quarter, so he walked on with them to the end of the arches and showed them the alleyway that led to the start of Carrer de la Força. Turning away, he looked back to where Mossèn Viladrau was found that Saturday morning and instantly started, as though physically struck by a blow. Hurriedly, he retraced his original steps back the way he'd come from Plaça del Vi, looking back over his shoulder until he found the section of the interconnecting arches that he was looking for.
He found it.
And stopped instantly.
And stared at a small scene high on the wall to his left.
And remembered his schooldays in Girona.
He rang Elisenda's number and this time he did leave a voicemail.
'Elisenda,' he spoke after the recorded message. 'I've worked it out.'
Chapter Twenty Eight
'You're not worried, are you?' Àlex asked Elisenda.
He'd silently left the post mortem for a moment and she'd told him about the website that Montse and Josep had just discovered. They were standing in the corridor, speaking in whispers.
'Àlex, I'm sandwiched between a housewife who hangs her washing out too noisily and the guy who hoses down the streets at night. I don't think I'm going to lose too much sleep.'
'Maybe not.'
'Not about that, anyway. What I don't like is the fact that the thing has been set up in the first place. We haven't got a clue where that'll lead us. I've asked Pau to refer it to UCDI in Sabadell, see what they can do about it.' She gestured with her head to the room where Riera was carrying out the post mortem on Mossèn Viladrau. 'What's the verdict?'
'Apart from Riera being a prick? Viladrau died of a massive drugs overdose.'
'The ones that were stolen?'
'They don't know yet. I'd say they were.'
'Me too.'
The door opened and Riera's assistant called them both in. Riera was standing back from the stainless steel table on which the priest lay, now truly eviscerated. Elisenda looked for a moment at the man's body and then looked away. It was hard to feel any sympathy for the priest for what he'd done, but she knew she had to see him as a victim.
Riera greeted Elisenda reasonably enough, as she'd expected. His manner once inside the pathology lab was always calmer and more respectful than it was outside. He also tended to suffer her more gladly than he did others. He reeled off the facts he'd so far gleaned without any emotion. His last meal, the approximate time of death, the cause of death.
'Death would have been almost instantaneous. It was a very large dose of the drugs. I'll have more details by the beginning of next week.' He sounded doubtful. 'The animal parts were laid out post mortem, as was the pig's abortion inserted into his mouth.'
'What is it, Albert?'
'The aborti
on. It was wedged firmly into his mouth, rather than simply placed the way the other parts were. As though the killer had wanted him to choke on it, even though he would already have been dead at that point. I don't quite understand why.' He brightened. 'Still, that's your job, not mine. Off you go.'
He turned back to the priest's body and Elisenda gave Àlex a half-smile before leaving the three men to their dissection of the fourth.
Outside, Elisenda walked down to the riverbank where she'd stood in the morning and breathed in lungfuls of air untainted with the medicine of the dead. The fish below seemed to be gasping in sympathy. She thought of the abortion wedged in Viladrau's mouth and Riera's doubts. She turned her mobile on and listened to her messages, surprised at the last one, Pau's stark statement. She rang him and found out he was just over the river, at the bottom of Carrer Argenteria.
'Stay where you are,' Elisenda told him. 'I'll be with you in two minutes. I need a coffee. Get the taste out of my mouth.'
She hung up and headed for Plaça Independència and the Rambla. She didn't want to get her hopes up, but she reckoned that if Pau's analytical mind claimed he'd worked it out, there was a pretty good chance he had. She quickened her pace despite the unusual autumn heat. Underneath the arches on Plaça Independència, two friends of her parents' stopped and greeted her. Further on, the good-looking waiter from Lizarran smiled and said hello as she walked past. Damn, she thought, a curse on small cities.
She crossed the river and found Pau waiting for her the other side. He led her straight to the arches on the Rambla.
'Don't I get a coffee?'
He grinned back at her and replied in his brashly extrovert Spanish. 'You'll be buying the coffees when you see this,' he said. 'Sotsinspectora,' he suddenly added in Catalan, instantly more subdued as he remembered who she was. Elisenda had to stifle a laugh.
'This way,' he carried on, leading her to where Viladrau was found. He showed her the large angle between the side archway connecting with the next section of arches and the one at the front giving on to the Rambla. 'Mossèn Viladrau was found propped up in this corner.' He suddenly remembered something. 'Ah. I've also got an address where the woman in the DVD might be. A priest at the bishopric gave it to me. Unofficially.'