Read Online Barcelona 03 - The Sound of One Hand Killing by Teresa Solana, Peter Bush - Free Book Online

eternity, the office door opened and the Inspector stuck his head out.
    â€œPlease do come in. I am so grateful you were able to make it,” he said affably, disconcerting us even more.
    â€œAlways ready to be of help, Inspector,” replied Borja, trying to recover his sangfroid and shaking the Inspector’s hand.
    â€œI hoped you weren’t alarmed because I sent a patrol car,” the Inspector smiled. “I thought it would save time. But do come in, I beg you.”
    When you aren’t sure what it’s all about, best keep your mouth shut. That’s what Borja always said and we both knew we should say nothing until the Inspector showed his cards.
    â€œI suppose you’ve heard what happened in the building where you have your office,” he began, watching to see how we reacted.
    The Inspector stared at Borja and, immediately afterwards, trained his cold, blue eyes on me. Unlike my brother, I couldn’t stand his accusing look and cowered like a little kid who’d been caught up to no good.
    â€œWhat happened?” asked Borja, sounding surprised.
    â€œAh, so you didn’t know?”
    â€œNo,” we both chorused.
    â€œSo when was the last time you went to your office?”
    Borja put on his innocent angel face and looked as if he was remembering hard, trying to gain time to formulate a plausible response that wouldn’t make life difficult for us.
    â€œWe were there Monday morning,” he said finally. “We had an appointment with a writer. A friend of yours, I believe, Teresa Solana.”
    â€œBut, of course, Teresa…” replied the Inspector, sprawling back in his chair. “I hope you didn’t mind me mentioning your name to her.”
    â€œOn the contrary,” said Borja. “We are always delighted to help out when we can.”
    â€œShe sometimes drops in when she wants information for one of her books. She told me her new novel is something to do with alternative therapies and I thought you might be able to give her a hand.”
    â€œYes, we did see eye to eye,” Borja replied enigmatically.
    The Inspector sprawled back yet again and rubbed his hands together.
    â€œSo you’ve not been back to the office since Monday morning?” he continued.
    â€œThe fact is we were intending to go yesterday afternoon, but in the end we had a drink with Mariona Castany at the Gimlet and it got very late,” explained Borja, reminding the Inspector of his friendship with one of the wealthiest women in Barcelona. The Inspector took note.
    â€œA neighbour of yours has been murdered,” he let drop. “By the name of Brian Morgan.”
    Borja and I pretended to be shocked.
    â€œReally?”
    â€œFirst I’ve heard of it,” I lied.
    â€œWhat on earth happened?” enquired Borja, slightly overreacting.
    â€œThe concierge found him a couple of evenings ago. He’d been dead for over a week.”
    â€œPoor woman! She must have got the fright of her life!” said Borja, shaking his head as if he was really upset.
    â€œYou didn’t notice anything that morning when you went to your office?” The Inspector’s gentle tone contrasted with his icy glare.
    â€œNo,” we both shook our heads.
    â€œWhen the concierge started her afternoon shift, she noticed there was a stink on the staircase. She walked upstairs to see where it was coming from and found thedoor to your neighbour’s flat wide open. The stink was coming from inside.”
    â€œWell, we didn’t notice a thing,” Borja replied hastily. “Did we, Eduard?”
    â€œNo, nothing at all.”
    â€œThe concierge says there was no smell in the morning,” continued the Inspector. “When did you two gentlemen leave the building?”
    Borja stared up at the ceiling, making it plain he was still trying hard to remember.
    â€œIt must have been half past one, because the concierge had gone for