There I was, longing to head North to breathe fresh, clean air, withdrawing a bit from the suffocating heat and sun of the South.
I needed rest, to get away from the work routine, which was nothing other than that of homicides. I had been invited by a family friend; it is also true that I had received much media coverage after solving the murder that occurred in Córdoba—a body floating in the water of the fountain in the Courtyard of the Orange Trees (Patio de los Naranjos). That case had been very complicated, hierarchically speaking, as I had to pay attention to the Córdoba Council, the city hall, possible jihadists, and of course… the formal and informal press, which reported all kinds of news, including “fake news.”
At first, it seemed tremendously tedious to have to travel there. However, my mother insisted that it was my grandfather’s land, and that I should see it at least once. I loved the mountains; I had always liked them since I was a child wandering through Los Villares and the hermitages, later transitioning to trail running as an adult. I tried to go accompanied, although sometimes my odd shifts and other obligations didn’t allow me to coordinate with my training partners. I was registered in several groups for enthusiasts of this sport, so I would join whichever suited me best. “Never go to the mountain alone,” my father used to say, and so I tried to follow that. On more than one occasion, colleagues from the Civil Guard had recruited me, knowing I was in these groups, because some distracted hiker had gotten lost or suffered an injury.
I had arrived; it was a luxurious spa surrounded by a spectacular, lush, deep green grove where the trees moved, swayed in unison, as if altogether following music orchestrated by the blowing wind. While the wind howled through the branches, the grass waged a continuous struggle to stay upright. Clouds had covered the mountaintops, unveiling a mysterious landscape where anything could happen, with thick fog as its ally. So many years working in homicides made me think of possible murder scenarios, constant dangers, threats unnoticed by an eye inexperienced in such schemes. If people only knew what surrounds them… they wouldn’t have such an easy and tranquil life. Sometimes I envied those who didn’t share my profession, who were able to close their eyes and not see morbid scenes, images etched in memory, the smell of decomposing bodies, and a long etcetera. Without a doubt, I liked knowing that I could help in some way to make part of society a bit safer.
Normally, I didn’t carry my service weapon with me on trips; however, it was as if a premonition were alerting me to the turn my mini-vacation at the spa was about to take. I checked that the safety was on, placed it in its corresponding holster, and of course, kept it unloaded but with the ammunition safely stored.
The friend of my parents was the same age as they were; let’s say she was in the golden stage of her life. She was very elegant, dressing nothing like people in Andalusia; the style was vastly different. I don’t say it was better… nor worse, simply different. In Córdoba, women of a certain upper-middle social class loved to wear gold, with perfectly styled hair and dressed up even if only going for an afternoon snack—and of course, they were deeply devout, the type who go to church as if that justified their puerile or other kinds of sins. She wore a classic coat and a stole around her neck, made of what appeared to be mink, though with my limited knowledge of fashion, I couldn’t say for sure. She gave me two very affectionate and diplomatic kisses, accompanying me to the spa in her car, with a chauffeur who worked for her family and must have been around her age, though a bit younger. We headed to the reception of that luxurious spa, which must have undergone renovations to be in such good condition, given it was over 200 years old. Mrs. Fruela González Abad asked for the Director.
—He is busy at the moment. Can I help you with something?
—I spoke with Mr. Alonso Lievana this morning to introduce my nephew; he told me he isn’t here either as he is away with his family, but that undoubtedly the Director would be happy to receive us.
The expression on that person’s face changed completely; it was a sight to behold.
From what I later found out, Mr. Alonso Lievana was the owner of the spa and many more lands there; besides having a great economic capacity, he had even more, shall we say… social prestige.
The person apologized, and the Director quickly attended to us. The appropriate introductions were made, although they weren’t entirely accurate since she wasn’t my aunt; however, I let myself be introduced as her nephew. For once, I needed to be flattered for a change.
I was in the spa’s cafeteria having a glass of whiskey. It had large windows looking out onto the horizon, with mountains in the background featuring quite impressive peaks and steep slopes. I wanted to go see the source of the Ebro River, but I doubted I would be able to. My supposed aunt had organized my schedule; I would try to keep it, but my priority was to rest. The downside was that she had also organized lunches and dinners where I had to engage in social relationships I didn’t feel like at all. My mother always said I could aspire to be much more than a simple Inspector; however, I didn’t want more. I was comfortable in the position I held. Though true it is that my parents’ status had opened many doors for me in the investigation of the homicide that occurred in the Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba. Mrs. Fruela entered the cafeteria and introduced me to the people she and my parents considered most suitable for me. To my taste, they were too stiff and boasted about things that, for most, had already been given to them along with their surname. However, one person caught my attention. Her name was Angela—blessed name, and blessed her beautiful slender body with curves that would give a heart attack to the healthiest man, with long legs, slender hands, and emerald green eyes. In her, I truly lost myself, without weapons or anything else.
The evening passed normally. After dinner, each of us headed to our rooms, which seemed to have nothing of luxury, but on the contrary, if you observed a bit, you could appreciate elegance in a subtle way in every detail. It really didn’t matter to me; I just wanted to rest, and boy did I rest like a saint all night, perhaps due to the whiskey, the red wine, or the combination of both. And I dreamed of her. In my dreams, she moved through the mist, hiding from someone or something, her body entering the water, naked as the day she was born, while with her hand she beckoned me to join her. The rest remains between me and my conscience, as I am a gentleman.
After breakfast, I went down to the area of pools, water beds, jets, sauna, Turkish bath, and more. Due to the sport I practiced, I was in top shape, although I was no bodybuilder or anything of the sort. After all, I ran because it made me feel free and at peace with nature and myself. I searched discreetly and found her there, with her swim cap and swimsuit. What a pity to cover such a beautiful body! There was a space in the water bed, but I didn’t want to overstep either; I would go to the waterfall near her. I was just heading there when I noticed she became tense and nervous before a thin, scrawny man with a gaze of very few friends, with coarse and violent gestures.
—Not here— was the only thing I managed to overhear. I didn’t know whether to intervene or not—after all, we are adults—but… habit made me act. I approached them and lay down beside her.
—Everything alright? I suppose so. The day isn’t right for an outdoor swim, is it? Better in here.
They both looked at me, and he left, only saying goodbye to her until lunchtime. Grateful, she thanked me with a sensual smile. We were talking throughout the swim; I was longing to get out of the water, feeling like a raisin. Every man has his limit in the water; on the other hand, I thought this was better than being muddied. The conversation was pleasant, close—I would even say somewhat affectionate. She wasn’t an ordinary girl from high society; she was intelligent and astute, the kind of intelligence that is owned and not inherited—audacity, one might also say.
I went up to my room, letting the day pass after making an excuse to my supposed aunt. I decided to snack on appetizers from the minibar—ham, cheese, and a nice cold beer. I watched through the window as the snow fell incessantly. It fascinated me; it was hypnotizing! To be honest… living in Córdoba, I wasn’t used to seeing so much snow. That vibrant and colorful landscape of deep green was being transformed into white, where even the smallest drop of blood would stand out starkly—tricks of the trade, making me have those kinds of thoughts!
The time came to change for dinner at the restaurant, where I had arranged to meet her. There was a great commotion in the hallways; the mobile wouldn’t stop ringing. I looked at the screen and it was my aunt, informing me that—they had just found a body floating in the spa’s hot spring pool. The vacation was over! I went back to the room, took out my service weapon and loaded it. My badge always came with me; it was my second skin… or the first; if I’m honest, I didn’t really know.
Once I got there, I asked for the massive room where the pools were to be isolated and cordoned off however possible, even if with bathrobe cords. I ordered the body to be removed. It was difficult to know the exact time of death, but an approximate one—rigor mortis manifests after seven hours, but that body was in hot water, which made the calculation much harder. Besides, I am not a forensic doctor. We were isolated by the snow and water, so my colleagues couldn’t get there; access was cut off. Therefore, everyone depended on my orders. I spoke with the corresponding brigade to inform them, and they delegated to me. Immediately after, I ordered the body to be taken to a cold room—although it would certainly be better preserved outside, damn morbid humor! It usually happened to me when I was very stressed. I observed the body and asked the physiotherapy service, cleaning staff, lifeguards, and other personnel to identify it. Of course, most did so even while grumbling, but they couldn’t help vomiting. It turned out to be «the guy» who had behaved that way with Angela. I feared the worst; she was going to turn out to be an angel from the underworld and not precisely celestial. That’s why her intelligence and sagacity attracted me. Most crimes were morbid, macabre, bloody, but when perpetrated by a woman, they were usually intelligent, cold, and calculated to the millimeter. Another body in the water.
I interrogated her throughout the night. It turned out he had deceived her; he was married and trying to take her money through blackmail, as she was from high society and would be judged and frowned upon in her entire social circle. Angela had come there to mislead him and devise a plan to end the blackmail. Upon seeing him there, she changed plans; she met with him while the pool was closed, convinced and enticed him that everything was going to be solved, that she would give him the money, but first they should say goodbye properly. She began to kiss him, convincing him to go to the edge of the pool for more ease when making love within the swaying of the water, but in reality, her intention was to finish him with a fishing line around his neck while he headed to the edge of the pool to find his footing and catch him off guard.
Her green eyes looked at me without any remorse, with a coldness I had rarely seen. Suddenly, she rested her long, cold hands on mine and whispered:
—And you who came to rest… troubles seek you out, my dear. There is no rest for you.
—That may be, dear Angela, but there won’t be any for you in prison either.
—That will be… if I even end up inside—she gave a smile between sensual and mocking, which irritated me even more. She seemed to know what fate had in store for her; she was as sure as I was that her social position would be of great help in keeping her from behind bars.
Even knowing she was guilty, she continued to tempt me. She had become my favorite and bitter enemy, my hidden passion. What I could never have imagined is that, as time passed, she would cost me so many hours of sleep, pursuing her for her flagrant crimes—always committed in a clean, cold, and calculating way, almost perfect to everyone but me, who knew how she acted.