No One Loves a Policeman Read Online Free PDF Page B

perfectly capable of doing that for me.
    â€œDid you see who it was?” he asked, keen to play the detective.
    â€œI didn’t have time to open my eyes,” I said.
    â€œThis is a peaceful city. Violence comes from outside,” he said, handing me a prescription. “Take this for the pain. And make sure you rest. There could be internal injuries.”
    He scribbled something else on his pad, then, as though prompted by Inspector Ayala, asked:
    â€œWhat brought you to Bahía Blanca?”
    â€œNothing special. A dead friend.”
    Ayala, who had stepped back to give the doctor room, nodded his approval. I briefly wondered whether the doctor might be Ayala’s ventriloquist’s dummy.
    â€œWhat did he die of?”
    â€œThe usual. Shot at point-blank range.”
    The doctor looked inquiringly at Ayala’s impassive face. The inspector did not disappoint him.
    â€œHis name was Cárcano. One of the bosses out at the C.P.F. oil company. Five thousand dollars a month in his pocket, plus bonuses.”
    â€œHis widow was right, the dirty old man spent it all on his fancy woman,” I said.
    â€œFive thousand dollars a month! Not even the King of France earns that!” said Officer Rodríguez, consumed with envy in the corridor. “I earn eight hundred and risk my life dealing with all the garbage out on the streets. And when I retire I’ll get half that, dammit.”
    â€œYes, dammit for two reasons. Dammit for the pittance you get, and dammit because the King of Spain might earn that, but not the King ofFrance, they got rid of him a long time ago,” the doctor said. Then he turned to me. “Go back to your hotel or wherever it is you’re staying and take a couple of days’ complete rest.”
    Ayala seemed to agree with his advice. My face was still aching from the slaps he had given me, but I was warming to him. When he spoke, I changed my mind.
    â€œI think twelve hours will be enough ‘rest.’ You could be on your way back to Buenos Aires tonight. I don’t think Bahía Blanca needs you any more.”
    â€œI was intending to set off in a couple of hours, with Cárcano’s widow and daughter.”
    The doctor put away his pad and stethoscope and said with a snort that he would not be held responsible if I died en route.
    â€œWhen you woke me up I thought it was for something important.”
    I left the police station with him. Nobody asked any more questions, or apologized for the beating, or for slapping me around in the cell. The roly-poly doctor was kind enough to drive me back to the hotel. I would never have found it, although it was no more than six blocks away. As I was getting out of his car he told me I really should get some rest, but if the inspector was telling me to leave, then it would be wise to do so. I thanked him for his advice. I could understand his position: it must be unpleasant having to cut open the body of someone you were talking to only a couple of hours earlier.
    I got out and went into the hotel.
    â€œRoom number 347,” the receptionist reminded me. Day was almost dawning, and I had agreed to have breakfast at 8:00 with Mónica and Isabel before we set off for home. Exhausted, aching all over and still completely at a loss, I threw myself down on the bed without switching on the light. If I sleep on my back my own snores wake me up, so I turned on my left-hand side.
    It is every man’s dream to find a beautiful, naked woman aged no more than twenty-five in bed beside him. What happens next depends on one’s condition and the circumstances. That morning (and fromthat moment on) my condition was not what it might have been, but there was still a little something there if sufficiently tempted. The circumstances however could not have been worse.
    The naked woman was Lorena. She was dead.

7
    One thing was clear. I was not going to be able to sit and have breakfast with Edmundo’s