Consider this a warning.
The stranger speaks again. “And the woman downstairs?”
It puts all your nerves on edge.
Somewhere across the hallway, a chair creaks. You walk closer until the hallway opens into a low room, lit by two lamps and a coal stove. Alejandro stands with his back to you, without a coat, his shirt rolled up. Opposite him sits a stocky man in a dark coat whom you do not recognize. Papers are scattered on a crate between them. Next to the crate, on the opposite wall, is another door with an iron frame.
A soft voice sounds behind him.
Cough.
A woman’s cough.
Your blood turns into thunder.
Alejandro lowers his voice. “He knows too much.”
The man shrugs his shoulders. “Why are you keeping it then?”
Because it is beneficial if everything turns out well. The old woman trusted him. If my sister insists, she will help convince me.
The old woman.
Mother.
He trusted him.
The missing housekeeper.
Marisol.
You recoil so abruptly that your heel catches on a loose stone.
The lamp wobbles in your hand. The glass touches the stone with a soft tap.
Both men stiffen.
