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

suspicious-looking individual over the last few weeks. Do try to remember.”
    My brother and I glanced at each other and shook our heads.
    â€œThe truth is we’ve hardly been to the office recently,” said Borja. “You know, with the crisis we have very few clients. In any case, the person you should speak to is Paquita, the concierge. She knows everything that goes on in the building. Who goes in, and who comes out…”
    â€œWe’ve done that. But she’s only there from nine to one and five to eight. And never at the weekends,” replied the Inspector.
    â€œIt may even have been an inside CIA job. How do you know they didn’t shoot him?” I piped up, thinking aloud.
    The Inspector stiffened slightly and stared into my eyes.
    â€œAnd how do you know he was shot?”
    I’d put my foot in it big time. I felt myself going bright red and Borja looking at me panic-stricken. I took a deepbreath, trying to calm down and do what Borja would have done, namely, come out fighting.
    â€œWell, Inspector, if he was in the CIA, he must have been a spy, mustn’t he? And spies are always shot in the head, right? At least in films…” I argued in a shrill voice, hoping the Inspector would be convinced by my logic.
    â€œIndeed, Mr Martínez, you are quite right. Mr Harris died from a shot to the head. But there is something that doesn’t quite fit. Are you both sure you know nothing about all this?”
    Borja, who’d guessed the Inspector was shooting in the dark, lolled back in his chair and smiled.
    â€œInspector, we devote our lives to doing favours for people with money, as you know. And, sometimes,” he added, “a writer comes to see us claiming she is a friend of yours. But the CIA? Don’t make me laugh! Eduard and I don’t even speak English!”
    â€œRest assured, Mr Masdéu. I’m not accusing you of anything.”
    The Inspector got up out of his chair. “In fact, this wasn’t an interrogation. It was an informal conversation. Deputy Inspector Alsina-Graells is leading this case, not me,” he continued with a crafty smile. “In any case, if by chance you do find something, I hope you will tell me straight away.”
    â€œBut, of course,” replied Borja, getting up and shaking the Inspector’s hand. When the Inspector shook mine, I could tell from the suspicious look in his eyes he’d noticed mine was a cold and sweaty palm.
    I looked at the floor and gulped.

7
    Out in the street the sun was shining brightly, but after the fright Inspector Badia had just given us I’d have thought the weather was wonderful even if thunder and lightning had been booming and flashing overhead. We hadn’t been arrested, and, despite that statement from the neighbour who’d said she’d seen Borja opening and closing the windows of Brian’s flat, it was evident the Inspector didn’t seriously suspect we were involved in the murder. Still shaking with fear, Borja and I lit up and started to stroll silently down the road, crossing Les Corts. We needed to exercise our legs and release the adrenalin that had accumulated in our veins.
    â€œThat bastard Badia!” Borja exclaimed after a while. “He gave me a real shock! I thought he was on to us!”
    â€œPerhaps we should have told him the truth. If he finds out we’ve been lying, he won’t let us off lightly.”
    â€œHe’ll never find out. That’s quite impossible.”
    â€œWhat about the neighbour opposite?”
    â€œBah, the Inspector accepted she simply got the wrong flat. Besides, don’t you ever forget we are in no way involved in Brian’s death. We simply happened to find him – by chance.”
    â€œWell, by chance, because you’ve got the keys to his flat. And I recall we interfered with the scene of the crime…”
    â€œForget it. I bet even those CSI guys would never