Turned to Stone Read Online Free PDF

I’ll tell you.” Jaime took a breath and, without thinking first about what he was going to say, he let the alcohol do the talking. If she got mad, so much the better; the more noise she made, the more likely she was to wake the guesthouse owners or some other guest. “I’m police. The chief asked me to investigate all the horny brunettes in Castilla-León and find out whether they’d be prepared to screw our informers to make them talk. Or the captain, to help him let off some steam. Or all of us, so we stop demanding a Christmas bonus . . .”
    The whole thing didn’t come out as witty as Jaime would have liked. Fearing imminent payback, he threw up his hands to protect himself. But the woman was no fool and she didn’t make a move toward him. Instead, she started laughing. He felt ridiculous.
    “You’re wasting your breath. No one’s coming down here until tomorrow morning, so I have all night to find out what I want to know.”
    “Oh yeah? Well I warn you, I charge by the word.”
    “For me you’ll do it for free.”
    “You wish.”
    “Oh, you’re going to tell me what I want to know and you’re going to be quick about it. There are plenty of things in this kitchen I can use to help with your interrogation.”
    “You’re going to gouge my eyes out with a spoon? If you do that I’ll scream.”
    “If you scream, I’ll blow your head off.”
    “And if you blow my head off . . .” Unable to think of a way to finish the sentence, Jaime abruptly thrust his hand under her dress. Sandra turned red and slapped him.
    “What the hell are you doing?”
    “Nothing, just checking something.” Jaime stroked his chin.
    Sandra pushed her pistol against his forehead.
    “Enough games. I’ll repeat the question: Who are you and who are you working for?”
    It occurred to Jaime that he could save himself a lot of misery if he just followed this psychopath’s instructions.
    “If I tell you, will you explain what all this is about?”
    Sandra stood motionless, still holding the weapon as Jaime looked back in a stupor. She cut a striking image: a beautiful and dangerous woman in a black dress and red overcoat, pointing a gun at him. All that was missing was the wailing of a saxophone. And a Dashiell Hammett signature.
    “All right,” she said, lowering the pistol.
    “My name’s Jaime Azcárate. I work for the magazine Arcadia and I’m here to see the Ars Homini exhibition. I’m a Libra, I live in Madrid, I don’t have a girlfriend, and my mother insists I should find one. Though if she met you, I’m certain she’d change her mind.”
    “A sensible woman. What’s your relationship with Vicente Amatriaín?”
    There it was. The little light that had been flickering in his mind began to blaze. Two events as unusual as these happening in one day? Of course they were related.
    “Amatriaín? If you’d asked me that earlier you could’ve saved me the trouble of reaching under your dress.”
    Ignoring the comment, Sandra deftly dug through her purse with her free hand and took out a crumpled piece of paper.
    “And he gave you this?”
    Jaime winced upon finding himself face-to-face again with Medusa. He had done his best to forget all about the business of the statue, but everything was working against him.
    “If I’d known you were already acquainted with my hotel room, I’d have suggested going to your place.”
    “Did Amatriaín give you this drawing? Yes or no?”
    Jaime quickly explained that Vicente Amatriaín had approached him in the restaurant and asked him for help in the case of the stolen sculpture. He emphasized what he’d told Amatriaín: that all he wanted to do was relax and forget about things. That, Jaime told her, was why he had gone into that bar at such an unlucky moment.
    Sandra regarded him silently for a few seconds, looking not at all convinced. “You’re saying you didn’t already know him.”
    “I’d never seen him before. I’d remember those white teeth and nasty