LITMIR.BIZ

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I didn’t ask her because I already knew what the answer would be: that that shit has made her into a complete mess. Why ask when we all know the answer?’

      ‘We also knew the reason when it was you who was suffering, but both Ros and I stood by you.’

      ‘And now you can see that I didn’t need you, I dealt with it how you should deal with these things, by cutting my losses.’

      ‘Not everyone is as strong as you are, Flora.’

      ‘Well you ought to be. The women of this family always have been,’ she said, tearing a piece of paper loudly and tossing it at the wastepaper basket.

      The resentment in Flora’s words made it clear she saw her sisters as weaklings, handicapped and half-baked, and looked down on them with an unsympathetic mixture of contempt and disdain.

      While Flora washed the coffee cups, Amaia looked at some blown-up photos that were sticking out of an envelope on the table. They showed her older sister dressed as a pastry chef and smiling as she kneaded some sticky dough.

      ‘Are they for your new book?’

      ‘Yes,’ her tone softened slightly, ‘they’re the ideas for the front cover. They only sent them to me today.’

      ‘I understand the last one was a success.’

      ‘Yes, it worked out quite well, so the publishers want to continue along the same lines. You know, basic pastries that any housewife can make.’

      ‘Don’t play it down, Flora, almost all my friends in Pamplona have a copy and they love it.’

      ‘If someone had told Amatxi that I’d become famous for teaching people how to make madeleines and doughnuts she wouldn’t have believed it.’

      ‘Times have changed … home-baking’s become exotic and trendy.’

      It was easy to see that Flora felt comfortable with the praise and the taste of her success; she smiled, looking at her sister as if weighing up whether or not to share a secret with her.

      ‘Don’t tell anyone, but they’ve suggested I do a baking programme for TV.’

      ‘Oh my God, Flora! That’s amazing, congratulations,’ said Amaia.

      ‘I haven’t signed anything yet, but they’ve sent the contract to my lawyer so that he can go over it and as soon as he gives me the go-ahead … I only hope all this fuss about the murders doesn’t affect it. It’s been a month since that girl was killed by her boyfriend, and now there’s that other girl.’

      ‘I don’t know quite how they would affect you and your work; the crimes have nothing at all to do with you.’

      ‘No, not in terms of doing my work, but I think my image and that of Mantecadas Salazar are inextricably linked with that of Elizondo, and you have to admit that a thing like this affects the town’s image, tourism and sales.’

      ‘Well, what a surprise, Flora, here you are making much of your great humanity as usual. Don’t forget we’ve got two murdered girls and two destroyed families, I don’t think it’s quite the right moment to think about how this might affect tourism.’

      ‘Someone has to think of it,’ Flora declared.

      ‘That’s what I’m here for, Flora, to catch the person or people who’ve done this and help Elizondo return to peace.’

      Flora stared at her sceptically.

      ‘If you’re the best the Policía Foral can send us, God help us.’

      Unlike Rosaura, Amaia wasn’t affected in the slightest by Flora’s attempts to upset her.

      She supposed that the three years spent surrounded by men at the police academy and the fact that she was the first woman to reach the rank of inspector in the homicide division meant that she’d experienced enough jokes and teasing along the way to leave her with a steely inner strength and cast-iron composure. She would almost have found Flora’s spiteful comments funny if not for the fact that she was her sister and Amaia was saddened to be reminded of how callous Flora was. Every gesture, every word that came out of her mouth was designed to wound and cause as much damage as possible. Amaia noticed the way Flora pursed her mouth slightly in a grimace of annoyance when she responded calmly to her provocations and the mocking tone her big sister used, as if she was talking to a stubborn, ill-mannered child. She was just about to answer when her phone rang.

      ‘We’ve got the photos and the video from the cemetery, chief,’ said Jonan. Amaia looked at her watch.

      ‘Great. I’ll come now; I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Gather everyone together.’ She hung up and, smiling, said to Flora, ‘I have to go. As you can see, in spite of my ineptitude, duty calls me too.’

      Flora looked as if she were about to say something, but in the end she thought better of it and remained silent.

      ‘Why the long face?’ smiled Amaia. ‘Don’t be sad, I’ll be back tomorrow, I want to ask you about something, and have another of your delicious coffees.’

      As she was leaving the workshop she almost collided with her brother-in-law, who was on his way in with an enormous bunch of red roses.

      ‘Thank you, Víctor, but you shouldn’t have gone to such trouble,’ exclaimed Amaia with a smile.

      ‘Hello Amaia, they’re for Flora. It’s our wedding anniversary today, twenty-two years,’ he said, smiling back at her. Amaia remained silent. Flora and Víctor had been separated for two years now and, although they hadn’t divorced, Flora had stayed in their shared home and he had moved into the magnificent traditional farmhouse on the farm his family owned on the outskirts of town. Víctor noticed her discomfort.

      ‘I know what you’re thinking, but Flora and I are still married, on my part because I still love her and on her part because she says she doesn’t believe in divorce. I don’t mind what the reason is, but I’ve still got a hope, don’t you think?’

      Amaia put her hand over his hand that was holding the bunch of flowers.

      ‘Of course you have, Víctor, good luck.’

      He smiled.

      ‘When it comes to your sister I always need luck.’

       7

      Like the police stations in Pamplona and Tudela, the new Policía Foral station in Elizondo was of a modern design, moving away from the typical architecture of the town and the rest of the valley. It was a truly unique building, characterised by its walls of whitish stone and huge, thick plate-glass windows spread over two rectangular storeys, the second of which overhung the first forming a kind of inverted staircase effect and giving it a certain resemblance to an aircraft carrier. A couple of patrol cars parked under the overhang, the surveillance cameras and the mirrored glass all underlined the building’s purpose. During Amaia’s brief visit to the Elizondo commissioner’s office he had reiterated the same expressions of support and assurances of collaboration that he had already given her the day before, along with the promise of providing every assistance she might need. The high definition photographs didn’t reveal anything they might have missed at the cemetery. The funeral had been well-attended, as they usually were in such circumstances. Entire families, plenty of people Ainhoa had known since her childhood, among whom Amaia recognised a few of her own classmates and old friends from school. All the staff and the head teacher were there, a few local councillors and Ainhoa’s friends and classmates, forming a chorus of tearful girls with their arms around one another. And that was all; no delinquents, no paedophiles, nobody with an outstanding arrest warrant, no solitary man wrapped in a black raincoat, wolfishly licking his lips as the sun glinted off his canines. She tossed the mountain of photos onto the table with a look of disgust thinking how often this job could be so frustrating and disheartening.

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