Antonio Hill - The Summer of Dead Toys

“This is important, Gina. No messing around.”

He let go and she rubbed her wrist.

“Did I hurt you?” It was he who rubbed it then. “Sorry. Really.”

“No.” Why did she say no when she wanted to say the opposite? Why did she let him kiss her again, on the forehead, when his sweaty smell made her feel sick?

The buzz of the intercom interrupted her seeking an answer she didn’t wish to find anyway.

The porter of the building, situated in Via Augusta, just before Plaça Molina, showed no sign of being shocked that two agents of the law were coming to visit one of the building’s inhabitants. He rose from his chair as if doing so were an inconceivable effort, an indecent thing to ask of a man at ten to five on one of the hottest days of the summer, while he was honorably working by leafing through the sports pages with his headphones on. It appeared that the person who answered the intercom from the flat had given them permission to go up, because, with a lethargic gesture, the porter pointed them toward the lift and mumbled, “Top floor, second door,” before falling back into his chair.

Héctor and Leire went toward the lift, which was slow and gloomy like the porter. She looked at herself in the dark mirror and saw that her face was starting to show signs of a definite bad mood. However curious she’d felt about Inspector Salgado before meeting him, working at his side was rather uncomfortable. After leaving the school she’d tried to discuss what the teacher had told them, but to no avail. Apart from answering in monosyllables, Salgado had spent the journey- not very long, it must be said-looking out of the window, in a posture that clearly showed that he’d prefer to be left in peace. And still the same: politely he’d let her go ahead of him into the foyer and the lift, but his face, which she was watching out of the corner of her eye, still had the same impenetrable, worried expression. Like a civil servant obliged to stay late at work.

Gina Martí met them at the door, and one didn’t have to be a master of observation to see that she’d been crying not long before: the red nose, the glazed eyes. Behind her was a boy with a serious, respectful expression whom Leire instantly recognized as Aleix Rovira.

“My mother will be back soon,” said the girl after Héctor introduced himself. She seemed to hesitate as to whether it was right to bring them into the lounge or remain standing in the hall. Aleix decided for her and invited them in, as if it were his home and not Gina’s.

“I came to see Gina,” he commented, as if to justify his presence. “If you want to speak to her alone, I’ll go,” he added. His tone was protective, affectionate. But the girl remained serious, tense.

Once seated in the lounge, Salgado looked at Gina Martí and for the first time all afternoon Leire saw a glimmer of empathy in the inspector’s eyes. While he explained in a calming voice that they were just there to ask some questions and Aleix was nodding, standing at Gina’s side with a hand on her shoulder, Leire contemplated the Martís’ lounge and decided she didn’t like it at all. The walls were lined with bookshelves crammed with books, the table and the rest of the furniture were dark wood and the armchairs were upholstered in a deep green. The whole place-finished off by dense still lifes in huge gilt frames and walls painted in a clear ochre-gave off a slightly antiquated, claustrophobic air. Dusty, although she was sure that if she ran her finger across the table she wouldn’t pick up even a speck of dirt. The curtains, thick and the same green as the chairs, were drawn, which added to the feeling of semi-darkness and lack of air. Just then she heard the inspector’s last words.

“We’ll wait for your mother if you’d prefer.”

Gina shrugged her shoulders. She avoided looking directly at her questioner. Might be simply shyness, Leire said to herself, or the desire to hide something.

“You both knew Marc for a long time, didn’t you?” Aleix spoke before Gina could do so.

“Gina most of all. We were just talking about that. This

summer’s been so strange without him. And also, I can’t get it out of my head that we parted half angry. I went home earlier than I meant to, and I didn’t see him again.”

“Why did you argue?”

Aleix shrugged.

“Something stupid. I can barely remember how it started.”

He looked at his friend seeking confirmation, but she didn’t open her mouth. “Marc came back from Dublin different, much more serious, irritable. He’d get angry over anything, and that night I was sick of it. It was San Juan and I didn’t feel like putting up with it. It sounds awful now, doesn’t it?”

“According to your previous statement, you went straight home.”

“Yes. My brother was awake and he’s confirmed it. I was in a bad mood because of the argument, and a bit drunk as well, so I went to bed straight away.”

Salgado nodded and waited for the girl to say something, but she didn’t. Her eyes were fixed on a point on the floor and were only raised when she heard the key turning in the lock and someone calling from the hall.

“Gina, angel. . Are they already here?” Rapid footsteps preceded Regina Ballester’s entrance. “God, what are you doing here in the dark? This young lady wants us to live in a tomb.” Not paying them the least attention, the blonde apparition walked rapidly toward the curtains and pulled them. Light streamed into the room. “Now it’s completely different.”

And it was, but not only because of the light. There are people who fill spaces, people whose presence changes the atmosphere. Regina Ballester, in less than a minute, had transformed a stale library into a light-filled catwalk, on which she was the principal-and only-model.

Salgado had risen to extend his hand to Señora Ballester, and in her eyes Leire saw an appreciative yet cautious expression. “I believe you already know Agent Castro.”

Regina gave a quick nod, indifferent. Agent Castro, it was clear, didn’t hold much interest for her. However, her coldest greeting was without doubt for the visitor she hadn’t expected to see. Aleix was still beside Gina, whispering something in her ear.

“Well, then, I’ll go. I only came to see Gina.”

“Thanks, Aleix.” It was clear that the boy’s departure didn’t upset Regina Ballester in the slightest.

“We’ll talk, OK?” he said to his friend. He went toward the door, but before leaving he turned. “Inspector, I don’t know if I can help you in anything, but if so. . I’m at your disposal.” From any other boy the phrase would have sounded hollow, excessively formal. But from him it was respectful, friendly without being obliging.

“I don’t think it will be necessary, but thank you,” replied Salgado.

As Professor Esteve had said, Aleix Rovira could be a charming boy.

Gina opened her eyes when the bell rang. Befuddled, lying on the sheets, she took a few seconds to react. Twenty past four. Hadn’t her mother said something about five o’clock? More rings, short and in quick succession. She remembered that the cleaner left at three and she was alone in the house, so she went barefoot down the stairs and almost ran toward the hall. She looked at herself in the foyer mirror before opening the door. God, she was horrible. Still looking at her reflection with an expression of intense disgust on her face, she opened the door.

“Beautiful, were you sleeping?”

“Aleix! What are you doing here?” She didn’t move, momentarily thrown by this unexpected visit.

“You didn’t think I was going to leave you here alone with the fuzz, did you?”

He was smiling and his brow gleamed with sweat. He took off his sunglasses and winked at her. “You going to let me in or what?”