Why have you come back to my home?’ hissed Valverde. A dark tie and the lapels of a grey suit were just visible beneath the property developer’s open overcoat. ‘My wife was worried enough by your visit the other day.’ ‘We need to speak to you.’ Valverde glanced around the empty sitting room. ‘I told you everything I remembered on Saturday.’ ‘I don’t believe you,’ retorted Caldas. ‘Are you going to tell us what happened in Aguiño?’ ‘I told you, I don’t remember.’ ‘You’re lying. No one forgets a night like that, no matter how long ago it was.’ ‘Maybe I’ve got a poor memory,’ said Valverde quietly. Estevez came up behind the inspector and whispered in his ear, ‘I know a cure for that.’ Caldas tutted disapprovingly. Estevez was quite capable of shoving Valverde’s head into the fireplace to jog his memory. He said to Valverde, ‘Would you mind if I tell you a story?’ ‘My wife has supper waiting,’ said the developer, gesturing towards the dining table.
What do You think about Death On A Galician Shore?
