Free The Silent and the Damned by Robert Wilson

he
did
kill himself and we're just imagining things.'
    'Why would you burn this sort of stuff?' said Falcón. 'Painful memories. A part of your life you don't want your wife to find out about…'
    'Or a part of your life you don't want your
son
to find out about,' said Felipe, 'when you die.'
    'Perhaps it could be dangerous material if it falls into the wrong hands.'
    'Whose hands?'
    'I'm just saying, you burn this sort of thing to get rid of it because it's either painful, embarrassing or dangerous.'
    'It could just be a picture of his wife as a girl,' said Felipe. 'What would that mean?'
    'Have we tracked down Sra Vega's parents yet?' asked Falcón. 'They should really be looking after the boy, rather than Sra Jiménez.'
    Felipe told him that Perez was working on it. They went down to the gardener's house. The door was not locked. The two rooms were stuffy, airless and stripped of all possessions. The mattress was half off the bed as if he kept something under there, or perhaps just slept on it outside. The only other furniture in the bedroom was an upturned box, used as a bedside table. The kitchen had a gas ring and bottle of butane. There was no fridge and only dried food out on a sideboard.
    'The staff didn't see much of the Vega luxury,' said Felipe.
    'Better than living in Tres Mil Viviendas,' said Falcón. 'Why run?'
    'Allergic to police,' said Felipe. 'These guys get asthmatic when they see 091 on the wall of the phone booth. A dead body… well, you don't hang around waiting for the disaster to happen, do you?'
    'Or he might have seen something or someone,' said Falcón. 'He must have been aware of Sr Vega burning his papers, probably saw him standing out in the garden in his bare feet. Maybe he even saw what happened last night.'
    'I'll take some prints and run them through the computer,' said Felipe.
    Falcón walked back up to the house, his shirt sticking to his back. He called Perez on his mobile.
    'Where are you?' asked Falcón.
    'Now, I'm in the hospital. Inspector Jefe.'
    'I left you searching the garage and the outside of the house.'
    'I did that.'
    'What about all the burnt papers in the barbecue?'
    'They were burnt. I made a note of it.'
    'Did you hurt yourself?'
    'No.'
    'What are you doing in the hospital then?'
    'Sra Jiménez sent the maid over, saying she was having trouble with the boy, Mario. She thought it would be good for him to see a familiar face, get the grandparents over.'
    'Did you speak to Juez Calderón about this?'
    'Yes.'
    'He didn't mention it to me.'
    'He had other things on his mind.'
    'Like what?'
    'He's not going to tell me, is he?' said Perez. 'I could see he was preoccupied, that's all.'
    'Just tell me why you're in the hospital,' said Falcón, who had never quite got used to Perez's maddening style of working and reporting.
    'I arrived at the apartment of Sr and Sra Cabello, who are the parents of Sra Vega,' he said. 'They're both in their seventies. They let me in. I tell them what's happened and Sra Cabello collapses. I thought it was shock, but Sr Cabello says she has a weak heart. I call an ambulance and give her first aid. She's stopped breathing. I have to give her heart massage and mouth to mouth. Inspector Jefe. The ambulance arrives and fortunately has a defibrillator on board. She's now in intensive care and I'm sitting here with Sr Cabello. I've called his other daughter and she's on her way down from Madrid on the AVE.'
    'Have you spoken to Sra Jiménez?'
    'I don't have a number for her.'
    'Juez Calderón?'
    'His mobile's turned off.'
    'Me?'
    'We're talking now, Inspector Jefe.'
    'All right, good work,' said Falcón.
    Back in the cool of the house Falcón's insides felt like smouldering wreckage. Everybody was standing around impatiently. Both bodies were bagged and lying on stretchers in the hallway.
    'What are you waiting for?' asked Falcón.
    'We need Juez Calderón to sign off the levantamiento del cadáver,' said the Médico Forense. 'We can't find him.'
    Falcón