Read Online The Summer of Dead Toys by Antonio Hill - Free Book Online Page B

the girl who slept in the house that night, and close the
case. If necessary, question the other boy, but watch it with
the Roviras. Dr. Rovira made it very clear that, given that his
son had left before the tragedy happened, he wasn’t inclined to
have anyone disrupt his life. And taking into account that he
attended the births of various ministers’ children, including
our own minister’s, it’s best not to get up his nose. In fact, I
don’t think any of them are hugely interested, I’m telling you
now. Enric Castells made it clear that if the investigation has
finished, he wants us to leave them in peace, and in a way I
can’t blame him for it.” His attention focused for an instant on
the photo of his daughters. “It must be hard enough to bury a
son, and then on top of that to have to put up with the press and the police poking their noses in every minute. I’ll see Joana next week and try to placate her. Anything else to add,
Castro?”
Leire started. She had certainly been thinking of contributing a detail he hadn’t mentioned.
“I’m not sure,” she said, although her tone suggested otherwise. “Maybe it’s just my impression, but the reaction of the
girl, Gina Martí, was . . . unexpected.”
“Unexpected? She’s eighteen, she goes to bed a bit drunk
and on waking up she finds out her boyfriend has killed himself. I think ‘on the verge of hysteria,’ as you describe her in
your report, is a more than expected reaction.”
“Of course. But . . .” She recovered her assuredness when
she found the right words. “The hysteria was logical, sir. But
Gina Martí wasn’t sad. She seemed more frightened.” The superintendent remained silent for a few moments. “All right,” he said finally. “Go to see her this afternoon,
Héctor. Unofficially—not too much pressure. I don’t want problems with the Castells and their friends,” he stressed. “Agent
Castro will accompany you. The girl already knows her and
adolescents tend to confide more in women. Castro, call the
Martís and tell them you’re coming.” The commissioner turned
to Andreu. “Wait a minute. We have to talk about these selfdefense courses for women at risk of domestic violence. I already know that they’re delighted, but can you really continue
giving them?”
Salgado and Castro looked at each other before leaving: they
had no doubt that Martina Andreu not only could but wanted
to continue teaching these courses.
You there?
     
Aleix, man, you there?
    The little screen of the computer indicated that . The girl bit her lower lip, nervous; she already had her mobile in her hand when the other person’s status changed from absent to busy. Gina dropped her phone and went to the keyboard.
I have to talk to you! answer.
    Finally the answer appeared. A hello, accompanied by a smiley face winking at her. The sound of the door handle startled her. She just had time to minimize the screen before the scent of her mother’s perfume filled the air.
    “Gina, sweetheart, I’m off.” The woman didn’t cross the threshold. She was carrying an open white bag, in which she was rummaging as she continued speaking. “Where the hell is the damn remote car key? Could they make them any smaller?” Finally she found it and flashed a triumphant smile. “Angel, are you sure you don’t want to come?” Her smile faded a little on seeing the rings under Gina’s eyes. “You can’t shut yourself up in here all summer, angel. It’s not good. Look what a lovely day it is! You need fresh air.”
    “You’re going to L’Illa, Mama, ten minutes away,” grumbled Gina. “By car. Not running in the country.” If any doubt remained that the countryside didn’t feature in her mother’s plans, a look at her attire was all that was required: a white dress cinched at the waist with a belt of the same fabric; white sandals with a heel high enough to elevate her five-foot-five stature to a respectable