22
Spider web
T he conversation with my nephew, along with the events of the past few days, had left me in a rather gloomy state.
As I came down the stairs, Ana was waiting for me with the policeman.
"They've come to see you, ma'am," she remarked, eyeing the tall man who must have been in his thirties.
"I know. Set dinner for two in the garden."
"Yes, ma'am." Ana María looked warily at the tall, scruffy man with a three-day beard who was watching me with a mix of anger and curiosity.
"Would you like some wine?" I asked, continuing to assess him.
"Red, please."
"Make that two, Ana." She nodded.
"Follow me."
We crossed the entryway and walked through the living room to the sliding door that led to the garden. His scrutinizing gaze roamed every corner of the house and, of course, my butt. I saw it through the reflection in the glass.
"Do you like what you see?"
I stopped in front of the door, not yet opening it. His eyes met mine in the reflection.
"Who wouldn't? My salary doesn't afford me a house like this, nor a woman like you."
I let out an ironic laugh, not liking what his words implied.
"I can't be bought, officer."
"Detective Inspector," he corrected me. "And I must say, that's not what the rumors say..." he responded smugly.
I turned around and leaned my back against the glass, letting the cold activate my breasts and giving him a good view of what he thought was for sale.
That response was just what I needed. A click in my brain's alarm system, although Segarra didn't know it. I walked up to him, biting my lower lip, and got very close. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and slapped him hard across the face.
"What the hell?!" He didn't have time to react because I don't approach a target without having an attack planned. An unexpected move threw him to the ground, and although the detective inspector tried to get up, he found my stiletto heel pressing viciously against the back of his hand.
"Oh, my God!" Ana María exclaimed, bringing the wine glasses. I signaled her not to come any closer.
Segarra's free hand tried to grab my ankle to make me stop digging into his skin.
"Relax, Ana, the gentleman was just checking that the marble floor is adequately hard. Right, 'officer'?" I asked sarcastically, emphasizing the last word. "These days, materials aren't what they used to be."
I lifted my foot before his hand could reach me. I twisted my heel as a parting gesture, leaving a mark. He swallowed the scream that he might have otherwise let out.
I motioned for Ana to hand me the glasses, giving Segarra time to get up.
"Should I bring ice?" Ana asked, composed.
"It won't be necessary, the subinspector is a tough man. You can go back to your duties."
"Yes, ma'am. Dinner will be ready in five minutes; I'm just giving the fish a quick heat."
"Fabulous, Ana. Bring us that white wine I like to pair with it." She nodded and withdrew.
Holding the glasses, I continued to contemplate Segarra's irritated face.
"Are you crazy?! What the hell is wrong with you?!" he burst out through gritted teeth.
"Crazy? I've been called many things, but no one has ever questioned my sanity. I invite you to my house and the first thing you do is insult me and question the love I have for my husband," I murmured, with a false flutter of my eyelashes that gave him a slight idea of the real tone I intended to use. "What did you expect? A pat on the back?"
"I didn't insult you."
"If I were you, I wouldn't question my intelligence. Your statement implied that I had sold out, when the only one selling out here is you. Or am I wrong?" I insisted challengingly. He pressed his lips together.
"Perhaps you misunderstood me," he huffed, massaging his hand.
"Or perhaps I overestimated your abilities. I thought you were a businessman, not a macho jerk." Segarra remained silent. I didn't want to let him go, not yet. I just wanted to make things clear. "Here, this is from my husband's cellar. The quality of this Burgundy is enviable." His fingers gripped the stem of the glass and he took a sip. I accompanied him, offering a distant smile. "Do you like it?"
"Like everything in this house, it's excellent."
"I'm glad. How about we start over?" He nodded warily. "Let's go outside, it's a very pleasant night to stay indoors."
As soon as we stepped outside, Brutus and Lady Killer came to greet me. The former slobbered all over me, demanding affection. The latter bared her teeth at the stranger, marking her territory.
"Damn!" The expletive made me smile. Segarra almost spilled his wine.
"Don't you like dogs?"
"Not the ones that show their teeth." He was cautious around my wonderful Doberman.
"Animals are very intelligent; they aren't easily fooled. They sense people's energy, and perhaps yours isn't trustworthy."
"Is that what you think? That I'm not trustworthy? Then why did you bring me to your house?" I had just openly offended him, with premeditation and malice. I wanted to test the waters to see who the hell this cop was and if he could really be trusted.
"You tell me; why did I bring you here?"
Segarra opened his jacket and revealed an envelope he had carried folded and hidden. It was full of papers and photographs. I rolled my eyes. At least he had delivered, which earned the detective inspector a point.
I snapped my fingers. I issued the command for the dog to calm down and return to her kennel, easing Segarra's tension. Brutus, like a good paladin, followed his queen, just as the detective inspector followed me.
We took two seats across from each other at the table, from where we could see Ana María serving the dishes. The cook kept glancing outside now and then, probably in case she needed to call someone after what she had witnessed.
Segarra slid the envelope over to my fingers.
"I'm risking a lot with this," I clucked my tongue.
"Really? Because I'd say you started taking risks when you accepted the first extra paycheck from my husband."
"I don't work for your husband, but for your father-in-law." That could explain a lot of things. "I clean up the messes he creates, although lately it feels like the damn Sahara. Covering up the death of three innocent men over an alleged kidnapping of your sister hasn't been easy. Does that ring a bell?"
"Not at all, I don't get involved in my father-in-law's affairs," I feigned, keeping my eyes on the documents.
I wasn't about to tell anything to a cop who didn't know which side he was on. I swirled the wine glass and took a sip.
"They've got you in their sights, Mrs. Koroleva," he muttered when I reached a photo of me walking with Andrey from behind. I looked up and stared at him.
"Me? Why?"
"Because since you took over your brother's company, corpses keep showing up, and nobody likes that. You're painting the Costa del Sol red, and that's not the color people want when they come here to invest their money. You should watch your back."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a fact."
Ana María approached with a tray. She placed the two plates of fish with sautéed vegetables in front of us, along with the two glasses of white wine I had requested. We were momentarily silent, only the faint clinking of the tableware and our angry breaths could be heard.
I closed the folder when I saw the cook and reopened it the moment she walked away.
I saw many photos of myself in different places, but one particularly caught my attention. It was from the day R and I met with Jonás Sánchez.
"What is this?" I showed the image to Segarra.
He had already started eating and was cutting an asparagus. His gaze narrowed.
"As I said, they've been investigating you for a while. The mayor of Marbella is furious about the shooting the other day. The one in Málaga wasn't thrilled about the death of the former port director, with whom he used to play paddle tennis. Nor was the one in Estepona happy that a journalist burned himself alive after his son committed suicide. Mafia crimes aren't the tourist attraction they want."
"Don't dodge the question. I didn't ask about that. Why is Jonás Sánchez in this photo? And in this one? And this one?" I insisted, pushing the three images towards him. In the other two, the guy appeared alone. In one, he was making a phone call in a renowned restaurant, and in the other, he was driving a sports car I didn't know he had.
"They were investigating Jonás Sánchez. Let's say his life took a sudden turn since Mentium came into it."
"What do you mean?"
"His finances grew exponentially. He changed his car, his house, enrolled his son in an international school... Believe me, journalism doesn't pay that well. He started showing up in places you wouldn't normally find someone like him, and the commissioner asked us to stay alert."