Finisterre by Graham Hurley

Author:Graham Hurley [Hurley, Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784977801
Publisher: Head of Zeus

14

Francisca’s mother was a plump woman in her sixties with the face of a peasant and a biggish square of garden she clearly tended with fierce passion. The garden was at the back of the house. Diego and Gómez found her bent over a row of fat eggplants, digging out the weeds with her thick fingers. She had a scarf knotted tightly over a mass of greying hair and her hands were caked in soil when she turned round to inspect these two strangers who’d made their way round the side of the property.

Diego showed her his ID. She inspected it without visible interest.

‘Gabriela?’ She sounded tired.

‘Sí.’

‘Again?’

‘Sí.’

Diego dismissed her daughter with a wave of his hand. This wasn’t about her, he said. He wanted to know about Frank Donovan, about the gringo who’d stolen her other daughter.

The word ‘stolen’ put a smile on the old woman’s face. For once she agreed with a policeman. Stolen was right. Stolen was exactly what this man had done. Not just stealing her daughter but other things, too.

‘Like?’

‘Like cars. Autos. He comes here maybe last year, maybe the year before. He steals cars. He knows how to do it. He steals cars and takes them back to the US. These cars have owners. And where do the owners come? They come to me. Because they know about the gringo who stole my daughter. And so I have much trouble, much, much trouble.’

‘Your daughter says he was here, the gringo, yesterday.’

‘He was. He stayed three days. Until yesterday. Then I tell him no more. No more trouble. I love those kids, Francisca’s kids, but if they stay he stays. And so they go. All of them. Mother of God …’ he crossed herself, leaving tiny brown smudges on the front of her dress.

‘You know where they went?’

‘No.’

‘Which direction?’

‘No.’

‘He never mentioned other friends? Mexican friends? Places he might go? Find a bed for them all?’

‘No. But he has money. So he doesn’t need friends.’

This was interesting. Diego glanced at Gómez, then went back to the old woman.

‘How much money?’

‘Lots.’ She made a dismissive gesture with her forefinger and her thumb.

‘Pesos?’

‘Dollars. US. This man is very rich. Maybe a millionaire. You know what he brings to our house? To our family? Nothing. I talk to Francisca about it. She says it’s the same for her, the same for the kids. He keeps the money, buys them nothing.’

Diego asked to see inside the house.

‘Why?’

‘Because he may have left something.’

‘He leaves nothing. He keeps everything.’

‘You’ve looked?’

‘Of course. Nada.’

It was the first time Gómez had seen Diego crack a smile. This guy loves the rougher side of human nature, he thought. Something at last they had in common.

The old woman took them into the house. It was cool inside and spotlessly clean. Gómez remembered the dump where they’d found her other daughter.

‘Gabriela lives here?’ he asked in halting Spanish.

‘Sometimes. Sometimes not. The gringo and Francisca were in here.’

She showed them a room at the front of the property. It was the biggest room in the house.

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