Chương 6
“Why did no one tell me?”
Camila glanced toward the doorway, where Adrián stood listening.
“That,” the lawyer said, “is becoming the central question.”
Adrián entered and placed a small brass key on the table.
Mariana stood.
“Where did you get that?”
“Diego found it.”
“In the mansion?”
“In Esteban’s car.”
Camila’s chair scraped back.
“You searched his car?”
“Not today.”
“That answer is worse than yes.”
Adrián did not look at her. “Javier gave the key to Diego the night before he died.”
Mariana’s pulse beat against the bruise on her cheek.
“You said Javier was going to call you.”
“He was.”
“You said he did not tell you everything.”
“He did not.”
“Then why does Diego have the key from his cufflink box?”
Adrián took a breath.
“Because Diego went to the crash before the police arrived.”
The room seemed to tilt, though nothing moved.
Camila closed the folder in front of her. “I need to know whether my client is sitting in a house containing evidence removed from a death scene.”
“The key was not in the car,” Adrián said. “Javier gave it to Diego earlier.”
“Why?”
“To keep it away from his mother.”
Mariana’s hands went cold.
“Where has it been for sixteen months?”
“In my safe.”
“You knew I was living in that house. You knew Beatriz controlled Javier’s estate. You knew he had hidden something from her, and you said nothing.”
“I did not know what it opened.”
“Did you try?”
“Yes.”
The honesty struck like another insult.
“Banks,” Adrián continued. “Clubs. Storage facilities. Offices Javier used. Nothing matched.”
“And now?”
“Last week Esteban asked one of my people whether Diego still had it.”
Camila looked between them. “Why would he ask now?”
“Because Beatriz was preparing the transfer documents. They expected Mariana to sign.”
Mariana picked up the key. A small number had been stamped near the teeth: 417.
“You came to the dinner because of this.”
“In part.”
“You let me walk into that room.”
“I did not know she would strike you.”
“You knew she planned to take my daughters’ shares.”
“I suspected.”
“But you wanted to see what Esteban would do.”
“Yes.”
The key cut into Mariana’s palm as her fingers closed.
“You used me.”
Adrián’s controlled expression finally broke. Not much. A tightening around the eyes, a delayed breath.
“Yes.”
She threw the key at him.
It struck his chest and fell onto the papers.
Diego entered at the sound. He stopped when he saw Mariana’s face.
“You,” she said.
His gaze went to the key.
“Tell me.”
Adrián spoke first. “Diego.”
“No.” Mariana’s voice rose. “He stood in the rain and wrapped a coat around my children. He walked through my husband’s rooms today. He can answer me.”
Diego removed his earpiece.
“Javier called me at eleven forty the night he died. He asked me to meet him at a gas station near Santa Catarina. He gave me the key and an envelope.”
“What envelope?”
“I delivered it to Mr. Valdés.”
Adrián’s silence confirmed it.
Mariana looked at him.
“Where is it?”
“Destroyed.”
Camila whispered something under her breath.
“What was inside?” Mariana asked.
“Account numbers,” Adrián said. “Names. Payments linking one of Javier’s companies to mine.”
“You burned it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it could have put people in prison.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Javier?”
“Yes.”
“Beatriz?”
A pause.
“Possibly.”
Mariana sat down because her knees no longer felt reliable.
The dead were easiest to love when everyone agreed to remove their choices.
For sixteen months, she had allowed Javier to become gentle in memory. The husband who sang badly while making coffee. The father who crawled beneath restaurant tables to retrieve crayons. The man who had promised to come home before midnight and died on a wet highway before dawn.
She had not remembered the locked study door. The unexplained cash. The way he sometimes stopped talking when she entered a room.
“What did he do?” she asked.
Adrián’s voice lowered. “He moved money through Alcázar transportation contracts. At first for his mother. Later for himself. Later still, I think, to build something outside both of us.”
“Four seats on a plane.”
“Yes.”
“And you destroyed the only proof.”
“The envelope was not the only proof. If it had been, Esteban would not care about the key.”
Mariana looked at Camila. “Can I trust anything found with it?”
“Depends where, how, and who touches it. From this moment, no one opens anything alone.”
Adrián pushed the key across the table.
Mariana did not pick it up.
“Leave,” she said.
“This is my house.”
“Then I will.”
She gathered the trust papers.
Adrián placed one hand flat on the table. “Beatriz has already sent men to watch the street.”
“Your men?”
“No.”
“Do you know that, or is it another thing you suspect while allowing me to walk into the room?”
The question landed.
Adrián looked at Diego. “Prepare the apartment on Río Nazas.”
Mariana shook her head. “No more houses.”
“It is not mine.”
“Whose is it?”
“Teresa’s sister’s.”
From the doorway, Teresa said, “My sister is in Madrid for six months and hates him. You may find that reassuring.”
Mariana looked at her.
Teresa folded her arms. “The building has a doorman who reports to no criminal organization, unless the residents’ committee has become more interesting than I thought.”
By evening, Mariana and the girls had moved into a three-bedroom apartment above a dental clinic.
The sofa smelled faintly of lavender spray. The kitchen drawer stuck halfway open. A ceramic rooster stood on the refrigerator, glaring at the room. Teresa’s sister had left detailed instructions for watering two plants and no instructions for the children.
Renata chose the room facing the street. Emilia wanted whichever bed Renata did not take. Lucía placed her yellow rabbit inside the empty bathtub and said he needed privacy.
Diego delivered groceries and left without entering.
May you like
Adrián did not come.
For the first time since Javier’s death, Mariana locked a door with a key that belonged to her.
