The Whispering City Read Online Free PDF Page B

ask questions, and especially not since Goyanes had become his superior. He knew that he wasn’t exactly among his favourites.
    The Commissioner looked at him in surprise, and, despite the fact that he wasn’t in the habit of explaining himself, answered him.
    ‘The order comes from higher up. Grau, the public prosecutor.’
    Another hothead, thought Isidro. The difference being that the fits his boss Gil had were flashes in the pan, intense but fleeting explosions, while Grau cultivated a stubborn rage that continued to corrode after detonation. It was dangerous for his enemies. The Commissioner wasn’t a declared enemy, but everyone knew they hated each other. Goyanes tried to hide it, with little success, struggling to keep a neutral tone as he said, ‘And he’s already spoken with the Civil Governor, it appears, since Acedo Colunga has shown a lot of interest in the case.’
    He certainly didn’t need to provide any more arguments. Which was why Goyanes’s shock turned to disbelief when Isidro insisted on his objections.
    ‘I still don’t understand why the press…’
    ‘This is going to be a model investigation, Castro. Get that into your thick head.’ Goyanes shook a piece of paper in the air. Isidro understood that it was the note from the governor.
    When Felipe Acedo Colunga took an interest in something, the matter became absolutely top priority; everyone knew about his ‘little notes’. If they reached a newspaper, publishing them was mandatory; if they arrived at a police station, they had to be obeyed.
    ‘Mariona Sobrerroca was a very important person in Barcelona’s society circles.’
    His dislike for the Catalan capital city echoed in his pronunciation of its name. Both men were from elsewhere: Goyanes was from León; Isidro, Galicia. Their police careers were quite different. Isidro had always been a part of the CIB and was unfamiliar with and uninterested in other aspects of the force; Goyanes came from the Social Investigation Brigade, the Regime’s political force. Some said they had transferred him to the Criminal Investigation Brigade so that they could better control its movements. Although their careers followed divergent paths, they shared a distrustful view of the world. But Goyanes suspected everyone of being a communist, a Mason or hostile to the Regime, observed Isidro. His own distrust was simpler, clearer: crime was nothing more than a confirmation of the criminal nature of humans.
    Goyanes kept talking. ‘Sobrerroca comes from a good Catalan family, they’re pro-monarchy but covertly, and we are going to put all our effort into clearing up her death and shutting up all those throughout Europe who conspire against the Caudillo in order to put that Bourbon whoremonger Don Juan at the helm of this country.’
    So the case had political connotations and, as if that weren’t enough, he’d have to contend with society people. ‘Fucking brilliant,’ he thought but didn’t say out loud; to his boss he replied, ‘I don’t understand all that stuff.’
    ‘And you don’t need to. As always, what matters is that you do a good job and that this journalist, this Señorita Ana María Martí Noguer, reports it as she should.’
    ‘Señorita? It’s a woman?’
    Isidro could tell that Goyanes didn’t like the idea at all either. Still, he nipped his new objection in the bud. Not even in this unpleasant situation could he expect any understanding from his superior.
    ‘Yes, a woman. And you are going to make sure she writes what she has to write. Is that clear?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘By the way, how’s it going?’
    ‘Just getting started.’
    ‘Which means…’
    ‘Notifying relatives, talking to the maid, waiting for the forensic report, talking to the neighbours…’
    ‘And?’
    ‘Not much, for the moment. But it looks like a break-in. A neighbour in the house across the street thought she saw a man running out of Sobrerroca’s townhouse, and the door looks as though it might