Robert Wilson - The Silent and the Damned aka The Vanished Hands

'He got drunk, took some sleeping pills and drowned himself in the cracked cesspit.'

'He's planned it out pretty carefully, hasn't he?' she said. 'Drowning the dogs -'

'I asked after his dogs last night,' said Falcón. 'He said they were sleeping. He'd probably already killed them.'

'Any suicide note?'

'Two letters: one to me and the other to his son. I've left them until the Juez de Guardia gets here.'

'He knew you were going to be the first person in here this morning,' she said. 'No nasty surprises for anybody but the professional. The gate and doors conveniently left open. He thought it all out down to the last detail of throwing himself in the cesspit.'

'What do you mean?'

'I thought you said that part of the house was sealed off.'

'I did.'

'So he went to the trouble of breaking the seal because it was psychologically important for him to drown himself in shit… his own shit,' she said. 'I'm sure the pills and alcohol would have done the job on their own.'

'Alcohol can induce vomiting.'

'All right. So he was making sure of it as well… but he could have used the pool. Less private, but it was good enough for his dogs.'

'Assuage my guilt, Alicia. Give me a theory,' he said.

'As you know, there's been a build-up of events even before you started coming to see him about Rafael Vega,' she said. 'His son has been jailed in a high-profile case for a nasty crime. He himself was ostracized by his community so that he had to leave his apartment, and there's a story behind that which you still don't know. He's moved here to a place which, on the face of it, suits him. A garden city, a wealthy community, peace and quiet. But it didn't turn out like that. He felt dislocated and craved the involvement of the barrio. The house he bought developed an unpleasant and antisocial problem. To us that would seem an irritating and expensive inconvenience, but to Pablo Ortega it probably achieved some sort of significance in his mind. Then his neighbour died…'

'He wanted to know if Sr Vega had committed suicide.'

'So it was already on his mind,' said Alicia. 'I've left out the fact that his son didn't want to see him either… another isolating factor. Then Javier Falcón arrived on the scene, perceiving an injustice in Sebastián's case and wanting to help. As you know, from your own experience, you can't help without stirring things up. And what came to the surface of Pablo Ortega's mind? Whatever it was, he didn't want to know about it. He didn't think it worth staying alive to face it. So, not only does he not bring the difficult things to the surface, he actually submerges himself. He drowns his memories in his own ordure. His sweet and innocent dogs did not get that treatment.'

Falcón shook his head in dismay.

'You were asking him about his son, Javier, and you said you were putting pressure on him through your investigation. What did you suspect him of having done?'

'I don't want to talk about that just yet. It would help if you came to this with an open mind,' he said. 'That is, if you want to be involved. It doesn't have to be any of your business.'

'I'm involved,' she said. 'I'd like to know what the letters say. And it might be interesting to know what he had in his collection.'

A patrol car pulled up outside the house.

'We've got to do our work first,' he said. 'But I don't think this will take very long.'

An ambulance parked up behind the patrol car. Felipe and Jorge turned up a few minutes later, along with the Juez de Guardia, Juan Romero. There was a quick conference about the relevance of this suicide to the Vega case. Calderón called Romero who gave him Falcón's verbal report. It was decided to treat them separately. Cristina Ferrera arrived in time to hear the decision.

Falcón gave them a tour of the crime scene via the dead dogs by the pool and the interior of the house. Felipe took the crime scene shots while Jorge inspected the dogs and scraped meat from between their teeth. Ferrera checked the telephone for messages and asked the phone company for a breakdown of calls in and out. She searched for a mobile.

The ambulancemen came in and decided that Ortega's body had been weighted to keep it submerged and would have to be winched out via a pulley in the ceiling. They went to get a block and tackle. Felipe and Jorge moved in and bagged all the evidence before moving on to the bedroom. The Médico Forense arrived and sat chatting with Alicia Aguado by the pool while he waited for the body to be lifted out.

Felipe handed over the letters to Falcón unopened in evidence bags. The ambulancemen chipped away at the ceiling until they found a reinforced concrete beam and started drilling. Falcón took the letters into the sitting room to read. Ferrera hadn't found the mobile. He sent her out to speak to the neighbours to see what

Ortega's movements had been in the last twenty-four hours.

PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL

27th July 2002

Dear Javier,

I think you must have realized now that I chose you and I am sorry if this has upset you. You are the professional and, as I said, I like you and I want this, the last scene of my final act, to pass safely into your hands.

Just in case there is some doubt, or some opportunistic burglar has happened on the scene and messed up my tragedy, I would like to declare unequivocally that I have taken my own life. This was not a snap decision. It was certainly not provoked by any recent developments but is a culmination of events. I have come to the end of my road and found it a cul- de-sac, with no possibility of retracing my steps and doing all the things that I should have done. It was a dead end with only one exit and I chose it with clear eyes, if not a clear conscience.

My reasons for having taken my own life are the only reasons a suicide can have. I am weak and I am selfish. I have neglected my son. This has been the stamp of all my family and personal relationships and has happened probably because I am consumed by vanity. The reward for this is my loneliness. My son is in prison. My family have grown tired of me. My community has thrown me out. My profession has shunned me. Vanity, in case you do not know this, requires an audience. Life inside my bubble has become intolerable. I have no one to perform to and therefore I am no one.

It probably seems absurd that someone of my fame and in my comfortable circumstances should have chosen this end. I can feel myself on the brink of a long and rambling explanation, but it would only be the Torre Muga speaking. My apologies for the inconvenience, Javier. Please give the other letter to my son, Sebastián. I hope you succeed in helping him where I have so singularly failed.

Con un abrazo,

Pablo Ortega

PS I never showed you my collection. Please enjoy it at your leisure.

PPS Please inform my brother, Ignacio. His number is in the address book on the kitchen table.

Falcón read the letter through several times until his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an electric winch. He stood at the door as Ortega's stained and bloated body emerged from under the floor. The masked ambulancemen pulled him away from over the hole and lowered him on to the concrete. He had a large flat rock taped to his chest and another one shoved down his blue shorts. Falcón called in the Médico Forense and asked Felipe to take more shots.

He went to sit with Alicia Aguado and read her Ortega's letter.

'I don't think he's as drunk as he makes out.'

'There were three empty bottles of Muga in there.'

'They weren't inside him when he wrote this letter,' she said. 'He's stated his guilt, but he's been very careful not to admit to anything. The denial that his suicide has anything to do with "recent developments" seems to be important. He is in denial. He cannot face up to whatever it is that he believes will be revealed by these recent developments.'