unit, with members from all the different forces, including Interpol, working together in the same laboratories, investigations like this one will continue to grope in the dark,’ complained Amaia. ‘Thank heavens for officers like Padua, who are genuinely interested in solving crimes, not in scoring points.’
Amaia walked back to the body, leaning over as San Martín had done to take a closer look at the wound.
The flesh looked withered and cracked, dried out. The skin had a pale, faintly washed-out quality compared to the rest of the body. Seeing the tiny serrations the blade had made on the bone, she suddenly thought she could make out a dark, pointed object embedded in the flesh.
‘Come over here will you, Doctor? What do you think this could be?’ she asked, stepping aside so he could look through the magnifier.
He glanced up, surprised.
‘I didn’t see that. Well done, Salazar,’ he complimented her. ‘I expect it’s a bit of bone that broke off during the amputation,’ he explained, extracting the fragment with a pair of tweezers. He examined the tiny triangle beneath the magnifier before placing it on a tray, where it made a definite metallic tinkle. He carried it swiftly over to the microscope, then raised his eyes with a grin as he made room for her. ‘Inspector Salazar, what we have here is the tooth of a metal saw – the saw used to amputate the victim’s arm. If we make a mock-up from this one tooth, we’ll have a good chance of establishing approximately what type of saw it was. And if you’re clever enough to persuade Judge Markina, we should be able to carry out tests to ascertain whether the same instrument was used on the bones discovered in the cave in Elizondo. And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll get on with the autopsy,’ he said, handing the tray containing the sample to his assistant, who immediately set to work.
Inmaculada Herranz was one of those women who earned people’s trust by appearing at once friendly and anxious to please. With her slight build and discreet gestures, Amaia had always thought of her as an ugly geisha; her soft voice and hooded eyelids disguised the stern expression on her face something upset her. Amaia had never warmed to her, despite, or perhaps because of, her affected politeness. For six years, Inmaculada had been Judge Estébanez’s efficient and ever-willing personal assistant, but the judge had no qualms about leaving her behind when she was promoted to her new post on the High Court in Madrid, even though Inmaculada was unmarried and had no children.
Inmaculada’s dismay soon gave way to glee when Judge Markina filled the vacant post, although from then on she was obliged to spend more of her salary on clothes and perfume in an effort to make Markina notice her. And she wasn’t the only one; there was a joke doing the rounds of the courtrooms about the increased expenditure on lipstick and hairdressers among female staff.
Amaia had dialled Markina’s number on her way to her car. Searching her pockets for a pair of sunglasses to ward off the dazzling light reflected in the rain puddles, she waited to hear his secretary’s mellifluous voice.
‘Good afternoon, Inmaculada, this is Inspector Salazar from the murder squad at the Navarre Police Department. Could I speak to Judge Markina, please?’
Her icy response took Amaia by surprise.
‘It’s two-thirty in the afternoon and, as you can imagine, the judge isn’t here.’
‘Yes, I know what time it is. I’ve just come from an autopsy, the results of which Judge Markina is waiting to hear. He asked me to call him …’
‘I see …’ replied the secretary.
‘I find it hard to believe he would forget. Do you know if he’s coming back later?’
‘No, he isn’t coming back, and of course he hasn’t forgotten.’ She paused for a few seconds, then added: ‘He left a number for you to call.’
Amaia waited in silence, amused at her blatant hostility. She sighed loudly to make it clear her patience was wearing thin, then asked:
‘So, Inmaculada, are you going to give me that number, or do I need a court order? Ah, no, wait, I already have one from the judge himself.’
She didn’t respond, but even over the telephone, Amaia could sense the woman pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes in that prudish way so typical of mousy women like her. She read the number out once then hung up without saying goodbye.
Amaia looked at her mobile in amazement. What a long streak of misery! she thought. She punched in the numbers from memory and waited.
Judge Markina replied after one ring tone.
‘I thought it might be you, Salazar. I see my secretary relayed my message.’
‘Sorry to bother you, your honour, but I’ve just come from Lucía Aguirre’s autopsy. The forensic report is conclusive, we have fresh evidence, which in my opinion warrants further investigation.’
‘Are you talking about reopening the case?’ Markina asked, hesitantly.
Amaia forced herself to be more cautious.
‘I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to do your job, your honour. However, this fresh evidence points to a new line of investigation, without prejudice to the initial one. Neither we nor the pathologist are questioning Quiralte’s guilt, but—’
‘Very well,’ the judge interrupted her, seeming to reflect for a moment. His tone suggested she had aroused his interest. ‘Come and talk me through it in person, and remember to bring the pathologist’s report.’
Amaia glanced at her watch.
‘Will you be in your office this afternoon?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m out of town, but I’ll be dining at El Rodero tonight at nine, come there and we can talk.’
She hung up, glancing again at her watch. The pathologist’s report would be ready by then, but if they were to arrive at a reasonable hour James would have to go on ahead to Elizondo with Ibai. She could join them there after her meeting with the judge. She sighed as she climbed into the car, thinking to herself that if she hurried she might make it home in time to give her son his three o’clock feed.
Ibai was crying erratically, alternating gasps and wails to show his annoyance. Between protests, he sucked at the bottle James was struggling to keep in his mouth, cradling him in his arms. He grinned sheepishly when he saw her.
‘We’ve been doing this for twenty minutes and so far I’ve only managed to make him take twenty millilitres, but we’re slowly getting there.’
‘Come to Ama, maitia,’ she said, spreading her arms wide as James passed the baby to her. ‘Did you miss me, my love?’ she added, kissing his face and giggling when he started to suck her chin. ‘Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry, Ama is very late, but I’m here now.’
She sat down in an armchair, folding the baby in her arms, then devoted the next half-hour to him. Ibai’s fretfulness slowly faded, he relaxed and grew calm as Amaia caressed his head, tracing with her forefinger his perfect, tiny features, marvelling at the clear, bright eyes gazing back at her with the intensity and wonderment of an audacious lover.
When
