Death on a Galician Shore by Domingo Villar Read Free Book Online

they were called.’

Shadows
    The shirt, sweater and corduroy trousers that Justo Castelo had been wearing when he was pulled out of the water sat carefully folded on a metal table at the Visual Inspection Unit. Beside them lay a navy-blue waterproof jacket, together with his socks and underpants.
    On the floor, Caldas saw a pair of rubber boots, similar to those his father had been wearing when he had emerged from the rows of vines preceded by the brown dog that accompanied him everywhere. The inspector looked down at his shoes. He’d wiped them with a paper towel when he got to the office, but they retained traces of the sandy soil from the riverbank where they’d walked that morning.
    The inspector was still thinking about his father as Clara Barcia showed them each item of clothing and confirmed that nothing relevant had been found on the beach. He was still sorry he’d got out of the car so abruptly, and suddenly remembered that his father had called during the radio show. He looked at his watch. By now his father would have visited Uncle Alberto in hospital and left the city, returning to the sanctuary of his vines. Caldas pictured him sitting at the table, as he had been the night before, looking through his notebook, warmed by the fire and Maria’s soup. He promised himself he’d call as soon as he had a moment.
    Barcia brought over a tray. On it lay several transparent bags containing the items found in the drowned man’s clothing. One contained some banknotes that had almost disintegrated in the water, another two keys on a simple metal ring, and a gold chain and medallion. In the third was the little fist with the thumb protrudingbetween the fingers. It was made of a dark metal, and about the size of a grape.
    ‘What’s that?’ asked Estevez.
    ‘A
figa
,’ said Barcia. ‘They were supposed to ward off the evil eye and spells. They protected you against bad luck.’
    ‘Well, a lot of good it did him,’ muttered Estevez.
    ‘No, it didn’t protect him. But nowadays they’re not worn for that, they’re just jewellery,’ said Barcia. She then repeated what the pathologist had already told the inspector: ‘There was also a little plastic sachet containing a white substance. We’ve sent it off for tests. I expect Dr Barrio mentioned it.’
    Caldas confirmed that he had.
    ‘What about the cable tie?’ he asked.
    Barcia went to a shelf and returned with another transparent bag.
    ‘It had to be cut off, to free the wrists,’ she said, placing the sachet containing the tie, which had been cut in half, on the table.
    The policemen leaned over to look at it more closely.
    ‘It’s green,’ said Estevez.
    Caldas saw he was right: the smooth side of the tie was green plastic. He didn’t need to ask what the dark stains on the other, toothed side – the side that had been in contact with the skin – were.
    ‘Is that unusual?’ he asked.
    ‘They’re usually white or black, aren’t they?’ said Estevez.
    ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Barcia. ‘The problem is I can’t see any marks from which to identify the manufacturer.’
    ‘I bet it was made in China,’ said Estevez. ‘Everything’s made in China these days.’
    ‘Quite possibly,’ said Barcia. She indicated one of the dark stains like shadows in the indentations of the toothed side of the cable tie. ‘We’re going to get this tested as well, just in case. Though I’m sure all we’ll find is blood and skin remains.’
    Caldas was glad Barcia was working on the case. She had initiative and was extremely meticulous. She noticed things other people missed.
    She indicated the bag containing the keys and medallion. ‘He was wearing the chain around his neck. The medallion is of the Virgin of El Carmen, the patron saint of fishermen.’
    Caldas nodded.
    ‘The larger key looks like a front-door key,’ Barcia continued, handing the bag to the inspector. ‘The smaller one could be for a cupboard, a garage, a junk room …’
    ‘What