City of Drowned Souls

by Chris Lloyd

  ‘Sorry to make you wait, Elisenda,’ Puyals said, catching her breath. ‘We had a power cut in my building in the night and my alarm didn’t reset. One of those dawn alarm clocks. Very calming way of waking up to the day.’

  ‘Except when the power goes off.’

  Elisenda held the door open and they took the one flight of stairs together up to the counsellor’s office. Once in her office, Puyals was instantly professional without the need for a large coffee. Elisenda had to admit to being impressed. She was already longing for her second of the morning. The two women settled into their respective positions, Puyals resting lightly on her more functional chair, Elisenda easing herself gingerly into the torture recliner.

  ‘Did you do the homework I gave you?’ the counsellor asked.

  Homework? Elisenda remembered the piece of paper that Puyals had given to her the previous morning. It was still in her bag, unread. She’d forgotten all about it.

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Puyals half-smiled at her. ‘Believe me, I’ll know when you’ve done it.’

  Elisenda nodded that she would, uncertain herself how honest she was being. Puyals carried on speaking, the gentle tone of her voice belying the harsh truth of her words.

  ‘Believe something else, Elisenda. Only you can help yourself. If you don’t try to solve your problems, no one can solve them for you.’

  Chastened, Elisenda listened to the counsellor’s words for a few minutes. She was talking again of grief. In her tiredness after yet another sleepless night of disembodied lullabies and fleeting shadows, she felt herself drifting off, soothed by the timbre if not the sentiments. The storm that had threatened had finally broken in the small hours. She’d finally dropped off wrapped in a sheet on her sofa only to be awoken by the rain beating at her window. She’d gone out onto the balcony and looked down at the river. The level had risen dramatically and was careening under the bridges. Someone somewhere was getting a soaking, she thought. She raised her head and let the wind and the rain drench her to the core, the force of it taking her breath away. The memory of it now in Puyals’ chair threatened to lull her to the sleep she couldn’t get in her own bedroom. She had to stay awake. Without opening her eyes, she suddenly spoke, surprising even herself.

  ‘You treated Pere Vergés in prison.’

  The counsellor was taken aback. ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Can I ask what his state of mind was?’

  Puyals stared frankly back at her. ‘Of course. Only yesterday, I was telling another client what you and I had been talking about.’

  Elisenda’s eyes snapped open and she turned to look at Puyals.

  ‘Precisely, Elisenda,’ the counsellor continued. ‘Just as I wouldn’t divulge anything you tell me to another client, neither would I tell you about my treatment of Pere Vergés.’

  Elisenda turned on the recliner and sat up, stretching her back at the discomfort caused by even a few minutes in it. She felt instant relief. ‘He’s a suspect in an investigation. I’m a police officer.’

  ‘Not here for this hour you aren’t. Here, you’re my client. If you had a warrant and this were part of your investigation, then I’d have to disclose that information. But not like this.’

  ‘I could get a warrant.’

  ‘Indeed you could.’

  Elisenda considered in turn how much she wanted to tell Puyals. ‘Just answer me one thing. You’ve spoken to Vergés, I presume he’s trusted you, you know what his state of mind might be. Do you need protection?’

  Puyals looked shocked. ‘Protection?’

  ‘We think he might be involved in something serious. I imagine he feels he has grievances against some people. In your appraisal of him, how far do you think he might act on those grievances?’

  ‘I don’t need protection.’ Puyals shook her head. ‘Not at all. Pere was quite calm all the time I spoke to him. His grievances were real to him but in the time I spent with him, he showed nothing that would make me think he was a threat to anyone. To himself possibly, but not to others.’

  ‘Could he have hidden that from you?’

  Again, the half-smile. ‘Can you?’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  ‘New World Missionaries,’ Elisenda announced.

  On getting to Vista Alegre, she’d photocopied the religious-looking pamphlet she’d found at her sister’s beach house the previous night and handed one out to each of her team. The three caporals were sitting opposite her. Àlex was in his usual position, standing close to the wall to the left of her desk, between Elisenda and the others. He was flexing the fingers on both hands, folded across his chest, as he always did, always impatient to be getting on with things, but also always listening intently.

  ‘I know we’re not all equally involved in the investigation into the house attacks,’ Elisenda went on, ‘but we might be called on at any time to help out with one or the other case, so everyone needs to know what’s happening across the board. Àlex, you and Manel will be dealing with this, but the rest of us need to be aware of how things stand, just as you do with Jaume Comas Miravent.’

  Àlex peered at the flimsy copy of the pamphlet. ‘What makes you think this is relevant?’

  Elisenda told them about the two people who’d visited her sister’s house and given her the leaflet. ‘I remember seeing one exactly the same at the architects’ house. If it is relevant, there’ll be more at the other houses that have been attacked. I need you and Manel to check up on all the past victims to ask if they remember anyone coming to the door with one of these.’

  ‘We’ll also check up to see if this lot really exists,’ Àlex replied, waving the piece of paper.

  ‘My feeling is they don’t. If that’s the case, we can take it as fairly certain that this has something to do with the robberies. They could be recceing the houses to see which ones are worth going for, which would then tie in with the symbols we’re finding to mark them out. First of all, though, we need to talk to Siset to see what he knows. If he’s selling on some of their stuff, he might have some idea how they work.’

  Manel snorted. ‘He’s too scared to talk.’

  ‘A night here might have softened him up a bit,’ Elisenda replied. ‘Although I wouldn’t count on it. The cells here are more salubrious than his place.’

  ‘Where’s the original pamphlet now?’ Àlex asked.

  ‘I’ve taken it to Científica for them to take a look at it. They’ll get it back to us when they’re through.’

  Àlex stared at the copy. ‘They won’t find anything. These burglars are too street-wise to leave anything. Did Catalina remember if they were wearing gloves when they gave it to her?’

  ‘Good question. I don’t know. I’ll ask her. Right,’ she continued, changing topic. ‘Jaume Comas Miravent. I think we have to begin to rule out by this stage that his kidnapping, if he has been kidnapped, is for gain. If it were for either financial or political profit, someone would have made demands by now.’

  ‘Are we sure they haven’t?’ Montse asked. ‘We don’t have access to either Miravent’s or Comas’s mobiles.’

  ‘Or Bofarull’s,’ Josep added. ‘Anyone could be going through him and we wouldn’t know unless he told us.’

  ‘Jutgessa Roca.’ Elisenda exhaled the judge’s name. ‘I’m seeing her again this morning to apply for a warrant to search Pere Vergés’s home. Even she’s got to grant us one for that if she won’t give us one to search Bofarull’s house.’

  Àlex looked doubtful of her chances. ‘You said it’s not for gain. Do you think this is revenge?’

  ‘I think it’s a possible motive. And if that is the case, then I think Vergés has to be the most likely candidate. He was ostracised by his old Opus Dei circle. He might regard Susanna Miravent as representing that.’

  ‘Or Comas might have been involved,’ Montse added. ‘They worked in the same place where Vergés was wrongly sentenced for fraud.’


  ‘Either way,’ Elisenda concluded, ‘until we can confirm otherwise, I think we have to consider that he could be a threat to Miravent. Another option is that Vergés, or someone, is putting pressure on either Miravent or Comas, not necessarily for political or financial gain, but for something we don’t yet know about. We still need to check up on this mugging. I don’t think Comas is telling us a fraction of what he knows about it or if it’s relevant to his son’s disappearance.’

  ‘Is Vergés a victim?’ Manel suddenly asked. ‘What if him disappearing is nothing to do with the kid going missing? He’s hanging from a tree somewhere and we just haven’t found him?’

  ‘So where’s Jaume Comas Miravent then?’ Josep challenged.

  Manel shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘I’m just saying they might not be related.’

  The room fell silent. Elisenda was the first to speak. ‘That is something we might have to consider. For the time being, though, we still have to work on the assumption that he could be involved, which makes him especially dangerous and unpredictable. If this is revenge or a punishment, he could be capable of doing anything to Jaume, which makes finding him even more imperative. It could also mean that Miravent or Comas are in danger, as he’s using the boy to get to them. Now, today’s the last day of canvassing before the election the day after tomorrow, and Miravent is going to be out and about looking for last-minute votes. That makes her vulnerable. I’ve asked for Seguretat Ciutadana to shadow her all day, but I want one of our team with her as well.’

  Montse laughed. ‘That’s got to be Manel.’

  ‘No way,’ he objected.

  ‘As tempting as that is,’ Elisenda replied, a smile on her lips, ‘I think it needs to be Montse. We need somebody discreet. Montse, you and I’ll go and see her now. Ideally, I’d put you and Josep on this, but with two investigations going on, we can’t tie up two of you with Miravent. Àlex, you and Manel check up on the homeowners about these pamphlets. We’ll speak to Siset when I get back.’

  ‘Shall I keep looking into Bofarull?’ Josep asked.

  Elisenda checked her watch and gave him a smile. ‘How do you fancy going to see Jutgessa Roca instead of me to apply for a warrant to search Vergés’s house?’

  Josep groaned. ‘Sure I can’t just stay here and check out Bofarull?’

  ‘The judge will probably be more amenable to you than to me,’ she argued. ‘Do that first, then check up on Bofarull when you get back.’

  Àlex stepped forward, ready to get on with work, but he couldn’t help grinning at Josep. ‘Jutgessa Roca. You get all the dream jobs.’

  Josep glared back at him and waited behind for Elisenda to hand over the documents he’d need to see the judge.

  ‘Smile, Josep,’ she told him. ‘You’re living the dream.’

  * * *

  ‘I’m sorry, Sotsinspectora, but I have work to do. I can’t have the Mossos hindering me in that, not today of all days.’

  Miravent was dressed for election battle and ready to go out, hunting down drifting voters on the last day of canvassing. Her campaign manager, Bofarull, was with her, reading out a list of places they were going to be targeting.

  ‘We will be discreet,’ Elisenda insisted. ‘Only Caporal Cornellà here will be with you. Other Mossos will be patrolling at a distance, no different from any other occasion when we expect crowds of people.’

  ‘I can promise you,’ Montse added, ‘I will be in the background at all times. No one will know I’m a police officer, no one will be aware you are being protected.’

  ‘And what about the other Mossos?’ Miravent argued. ‘In a marked patrol car? Potential voters will be only too aware of a police presence. I insist I don’t need it.’

  From his place by the window, away from the three women standing in the middle of the living room, Bofarull suddenly looked up. ‘Susanna, would you mind for a moment?’

  He beckoned her over. A brief flash of irritation lit her face, but she quashed it and went over to where he was standing. Elisenda watched as he spoke quietly to her for a moment, her face quickly registering his words.

  Elisenda turned to face away and hurriedly whispered to Montse. ‘I’ll bet you anything he’s just told her that a police presence will raise her profile with voters, make her more appealing.’

  Miravent returned to her and Montse. ‘Agreed. I’ll accept one of your officers with me, but that is all. And the patrol cars at a discreet distance.’

  ‘I’ll make sure they go unnoticed,’ Elisenda replied, directing a smile at her campaign manager, who didn’t look entirely happy with that. ‘I’ll take it you’ll be canvassing too, Senyor Bofarull?’

  ‘Yes, I will.’

  ‘He manages my diary,’ Miravent interrupted. ‘I’d be lost without him.’

  ‘And we’ll be organising another media appeal for Jaume tomorrow,’ Bofarull added. ‘To keep his disappearance fresh in people’s minds.’

  Elisenda looked at him. ‘To keep Jaume fresh in people’s minds,’ she echoed.

  Before she could add any further comment, Marc Comas came into the room. ‘What’s this about Jaume? Do you have any news?’

  ‘None yet, I’m afraid,’ Elisenda told him. She saw a brief flicker of emotion in his face, something he normally kept hidden in his wife’s presence. ‘Will you be out canvassing with your wife?’

  It was Miravent who answered, her voice brusque. ‘I think my husband will be better employed staying at home in case there is any news.’

  ‘Quite,’ he agreed with her.

  Elisenda looked from the politician to the husband to the campaign manager.

  ‘Quite,’ she echoed.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Elisenda left Montse in Palau with Miravent and drove back to Vista Alegre to find Àlex and Manel at facing desks. Àlex was on the phone when she walked into the unit’s office. He signalled that he’d be off in a moment. Manel was tapping industriously at a computer keyboard. She watched the caporal for a short while before he became aware of her presence. His normally clumsy bear paws flitted delicately across the keys as he rapidly took in what was displayed on screen. That’s Manel, Elisenda thought, ninety per cent of the time battering carelessly at everyone’s irritability threshold, the remaining ten per cent oddly gentle and perceptive. You just had to allow the ten per cent to outweigh the ninety. Sensing her presence, he turned and faced her but before he could say anything, Àlex finished his call and hung up. She could tell from the annoyance in her sergent’s eyes and the slightest flutter of a muscle in the taut skin on his cheeks that he wasn’t getting anywhere.

  ‘I’ve only managed to get hold of two of the homeowners who were attacked,’ he explained, ‘and neither of them recalls anyone coming to the door with a pamphlet.’

  ‘Keep trying. It’s not the sort of thing most people would remember, especially if they’ve then suffered the trauma of an attack.’

  Àlex looked at the list of calls he had to make on the screen in front of him. ‘I know. It wouldn’t have seemed important at the time, but someone’s got to remember. If not, we might have to get back out to check up in person, but that could be a hiding to nothing. I can’t see many people hanging on to it. Or it’s a false lead.’

  ‘I’m having better luck with the pamphlet itself,’ Manel offered. ‘I’ve checked all the registers of charities and associations, and New World Missionaries doesn’t come up on any of them. The church has no record of them, and there’s no tax code registered for them.’

  ‘So they simply don’t exist,’ Elisenda concluded.

  ‘Look at the pamphlet too.’ Manel pointed to the original, lying on the desk on top of the evidence bag. ‘Científica just sent it back to us. Only two sets of prints they can identify, one of them yours.’

  ‘And the other one is probably my sister’s.’ Científica wouldn’t have been allowed to check Catalina’s as she didn’t have a police record and they weren’t permitted to check fingerprints kept on natio
nal identity card records if she wasn’t suspected of having committed a crime.

  ‘That’s what Científica said.’ He showed her the pamphlet. ‘Apart from that, charities have to put their details on any advertising. There’s nothing on this, not even a website. And it’s been printed on a domestic printer, not professionally done. It’s not even a good job.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be,’ Àlex commented. ‘It’s only meant as a pretext for checking houses out, not part of any scam. They know no one’s going to take a proper look at it, so they don’t bother too much with it.’

  ‘They’ve still got a printer good enough to do this,’ Manel argued.

  Àlex grinned. ‘Of course they have. They’ve nicked enough good quality kit, they’re bound to have a printer and a computer that’ll do the job.’

  ‘So,’ Elisenda summed up, ‘it’s obviously fake, and most likely part of the setup. We just need to find an owner or two who remembers seeing one to confirm it.’

  ‘And then decide how it’s going to help us,’ Àlex added. ‘We could ask every station in the region to check up on houses that have received these, but that would be a huge job.’

  Elisenda sighed. ‘We know they’ve been out in the La Fosca area, because my sister had one at her house. There might be a way to whittle it down to that.’

  ‘We’ll keep looking,’ Àlex promised.

  ‘I take it Josep isn’t back from seeing Jutgessa Roca?’ Elisenda asked. ‘If that’s the case, we’ll have a word with Siset now, see what he’s got to say. Manel, you come with us too to observe.’

  * * *

  ‘I want a lawyer.’

  ‘You watch too many American films,’ Elisenda told Siset. ‘You know the score. We haven’t charged you. Until we do, you don’t get to see a lawyer.’

  ‘So I can go?’ He made to stand up, but she waved him back down.

  ‘Is this your first time, Siset? How exciting. Now sit down. You know we’ve got seventy-two hours, then you can go. Unless I can think of something to arrest you for and forget about you.’