Havana Gold: The Havana Quartet by Leonardo Padura

Author:Leonardo Padura [Padura, Leonardo]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781904738282
Amazon: 1904738281
Barnesnoble: 1904738281
Goodreads: 2592459
Publisher: Bitter Lemon Press
Published: 2001-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

He too lived in an old rambling house in La Víbora, with a high roof and large windows behind grilles that started at ground level and disappeared into the higher regions. Through the open door you could see a long, dark, cool passageway, ideal for the middle of the day, that led to a tree-filled yard. The Count had to step inside to reach the door knocker which he rapped a couple of times. He went back to the porch and waited. A girl around ten years old, tense like a ballerina interrupted mid-dance, emerged from the first room to inspect the visitor.

“Is José Luis in?” asked the lieutenant and the girl, without saying a word, turned round and pirouetted back inside. Three minutes passed, and the Count was about to give the knocker another rap, when he saw the fragile figure of José Luis approaching down the corridor. The Count primed a welcoming smile.

“How are you, José Luis? Do you remember me, from the lavatory at Pre-Uni?”

The youth wiped his hand across his naked chest where too many ribs stood out. Perhaps he was hesitating before deciding to admit he remembered.

“Yes, of course. How can I help?”

The Count took out a packet of cigarettes and offered the youth one.

“I need to talk to you. It’s a long time since I had any friends in that place and I think you could probably help me.”

“Help in what way?”

He’s as suspicious as a cat. He’s the kind who knows what he wants or at least what he doesn’t want, thought Conde.

“You’re a lot like my best friend at Pre-Uni. We called him Skinny Carlos, I think he was even skinnier than you are. But he’s not skinny anymore.”

José Luis stepped out and into the porch.

“What is it you want to know?”

“Can we talk here?” asked the Count, pointing to the low wall separating the porch from the garden.

José nodded and the policeman was the first to sit down.

“I’ll be frank and I want you be frank with me as well,” the Count suggested, deliberately not looking at him to avoid any response at this stage. “I’ve spoken to several people about Lissette, your teacher. You and some people spoke very well of her; others said she was on the wild side. I don’t know if you know how she was killed: they strangled her when she was drunk after beating her and having sex with her. Someone also smoked marijuana that night at her place.”

Only then did he look the youth in the eye. The Count felt he’d made an impact.

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“What you and your friends thought about Lissette.”

The youth smiled. He threw his half-smoked cigarette in the direction of the garden and returned to his rib count.

“What we thought? Is that what you’re after? Look, pal, I’m seventeen, but I wasn’t born yesterday. You want me to tell you what I think and put myself in the shit? That’s a fool’s game, if you’ll forgive the expression.

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