City of Drowned Souls by Chris Lloyd

Author:Chris Lloyd
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781910859858
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Ltd
Published: 2017-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-One

‘Is Bellsolà Opus Dei?’ Montse asked her as they climbed on foot up the cobblestones of the narrow and embracing Carrer de la Força. They’d decided to pay Pere Vergés’s lawyer a visit after all once they’d heard he was Opus like Miravent and Comas.

Elisenda laughed. ‘No. Our Gerard’s much too worldly and pragmatic for that, although that’s not always a barrier to membership. You have to be careful, or you end up seeing Opus in everyone and everything.’

Montse mumbled an agreement. ‘I’ve heard more about Opus Dei in the last two days than I have in my life before now. Except in the movies.’

‘You see. Girona. We did it first.’

‘You sound just like Manel with his beloved Lleida,’ Montse accused her.

They laughed and sidestepped a string of elderly American tourists emerging from the Jewish history museum, checking their purchases from the gift shop. Gerard Bellsolà had his legal practice a few metres further up the incline and on the left. An unremarkable doorway in a fourteenth-century building led into a tiny and tranquil courtyard. Just one single oblong of light shone down from the open square of sky above and illuminated a potted palm, its fronds still in the quiet air, dust motes floating in suspension around it. A powerful red BMW motorbike stood incongruous on the ancient flagstones, a sleeping modern beast in its medieval lair. To the right of the patio, a flight of ornate stone steps behind a banister of carved curlicues and mythical animals led along the side wall and continued up the rear to the first floor. They climbed as far as a heavy wooden door into an office and announced themselves to a snooty receptionist with a lacquered helmet of dark blond hair seated behind the protection of a high-fronted desk.

‘Senyor Bellsolà will see you,’ she told them after a few moments in which she didn’t appear to have told anyone of their presence.

‘I know he will,’ Elisenda replied with a smile. ‘We know the way.’

The lawyer was sitting behind a huge and old-fashioned mahogany partners’ desk, even though he occupied the splendid oak-panelled room on his own. Probably from his grandfather’s day, Elisenda thought, the first in the dynasty of lawyers to blight the city. Despite the grandeur of the office, she always found it uncomfortable, one of those rooms where no matter how many lights and lamps you put in, it was still dingy. She forever had to fight the urge to look around for more switches to press.

‘Pere Vergés,’ Elisenda announced, taking a seat. ‘You were representing him.’

Bellsolà didn’t make eye contact with the two women, checking something on his computer instead. ‘What of it?’

‘I understand it was in relation to compensation.’

‘You know perfectly well that client confidentiality means I don’t have to answer that question, Sotsinspectora.’

‘Your client has been missing since Monday,’ Elisenda told him patiently. ‘He missed an appointment with you and he missed an appointment with the judge. Does that not concern you?’

Finally, Bellsolà looked at her to reply.

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