Read Online The Street of the Three Beds by Roser Caminals-Heath - Free Book Online

stirring the contents of the pot with a wooden spoon, cast another glance at Maurici’s frame, languidly propped against a lame sideboard.
    â€œI’ve got a pretty good notion who you are,” she mumbled.
    â€œHas Rita talked to you about me?”
    â€œShe never told me your name, but she made a big deal of this well-to-do young man she was seeing. It’s plain as daylight you’re young and rich.”
    â€œIs that all she told you?”
    â€œThat and that he was the son of a factory owner who lives uptown.”
    The child splashed soapy water all over, including on the cuffs of Maurici’s trousers.
    â€œDoes she still live here?”
    â€œI haven’t seen her in weeks. Like she’s been wiped off the face of the earth! What’s got me puzzled is that she left her stuff here.”
    â€œShe left without packing?”
    â€œDidn’t take no clothes, no trinkets, nothing. Not even her Saint Rita medal.”
    Before he could recover from the surprise, the woman stopped stirring the pot and added, “She took off like a thief, without paying the rent. You wouldn’t, by any chance, you couldn’t . . .”
    He hesitated while a man in a robe scurried through the kitchen and into an adjoining room. Then he fished his wallet out of his pocket and offered the woman a few bills. “Will that do?”
    She smiled for the first time. “Yes, sir, I should say so. How nice, to have it always ready.”
    â€œIf you tell me where I can find Rita, I’ll give you more.”
    â€œGod forbid! I don’t want anything that ain’t rightly mine. And even if I wanted to tell you, I couldn’t. No one in this house knows what’s become of her. So pretty and proper: too proper for a working girl, if you ask me . . . I saw it coming. But what am I gonna do with her things if she don’t come back for them? Who can I send notice to?”
    â€œRita has no family.”
    The woman wiped her hand with the apron before taking the card Maurici handed to her.
    â€œIf you find out anything, let me know.”
    â€œYes, sir, you can bet on it.”
    Maurici fled from the stuffy kitchen and from the odor of poverty and made his way to the door. Downstairs the watchmaker let loose a “So lo-o-o-ong!” that sounded ironic and ominous to his ear.
    Maybe she’s gone back to her hometown,
he told himself as he went down the street toward The Ramblas.
If that’s it, I’m not going after her. Or maybe she’s found another position. In any case, clearly there’s no baby. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have run away from me. Rita’s calculating, she knows what’s good for her. If she was pregnant, she wouldn’t have given up my protection so easily. She’d have stuck by me, or gone to Father to see what she could get. But why did she leave the boardinghouse? To save one month’s rent? Because she has a job in another part of the city? Because she doesn’t want me to find her? This business of leaving without packing looks like she made a rushed decision. On the other hand, she still may send somebody to get her things. Or stop by herself at the end of the month to pay the rent and collect her stuff. Meanwhile, where can she go with no shoes and no clothes? Is it possible she didn’t leave the house of her own free will? Did Sleeping Beauty want to be sucked into the faucet?Or was it the hand that turned it on and off that decided her fate? Where did she go inside the faucet?
    Realizing his thoughts were taking a convoluted path, he chided himself.
This is crazy! Maybe Albert’s right about the effects of absinthe. It all comes down to finding out where Rita is and be done with it once and for all. It will be a relief to have this matter behind me. That’s all.
He checked his watch: eleven thirty. He was at the top of The Ramblas, by the fountain, and had enough time for a drink at the Equestrian