The Silence of the White City by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Mystery
ISBN: 9781984898593
Goodreads: 48740595
Publisher: Vintage Crime/Black Lizard
Published: 2016-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

At exactly half past nine, I heard the entry phone buzz and, with a mixture of disbelief and excitement, waited for her to climb the three floors to my apartment.

“You came.” That memorable phrase was all that occurred to me.

“I think you have something special to show me,” she said.

I had never seen her dressed in anything other than her running gear or her uniform. Leggings and a T-shirt, or a tailored suit. I had the impression that on this occasion Alba (or Blanca, who knows?) was dressed in her own style: skinny jeans and a tight top, her black hair worn loose, not much makeup.

“That’s right. Let’s go up to the landing on the fourth floor; the tenant is never there.”

She walked behind me up the stairs like an obedient accomplice. When we reached the landing, I took a stepladder out of the shared storage room and placed it underneath the trapdoor leading to the roof.

“Follow me?” I asked, knowing she would.

I climbed outside and sat on the sloping orange tiles. She climbed up, poked out her head and then the top of her body. She looked at me incredulously.

“Are you sure this isn’t dangerous?”

“I’ve been up here a thousand times and have never had a problem. You just have to be a bit careful.”

“I’m not sure if this is safe,” she muttered to herself.

I had no idea whether she was referring to that moment or to our odd relationship.

She pushed herself up and sat beside me on the roof.

“Have you noticed what a special atmosphere there is in the square already?” I asked, pointing downward. “The procession will start any minute now. They’ve put up an altar on the corner of the steps to San Miguel. When all the lanterns are grouped around it, there’ll be a short service. They usually prevent access to the balcony where the marble niche with the statue of the Virgen Blanca is, the place where we…”

Where we first met, I was going to say, but then I thought better of it.

“Where we usually stop and stretch,” I backtracked.

“I remember,” she said, and I knew she was thinking about the same moment I was. Sometimes our memory sticks thumbtacks in apparently trivial moments, and they remain fixed forever, although forever seems like a long time.

“What’s that they’ve placed at the feet of the Virgen Blanca?” she asked.

I looked in the direction she was pointing, although, given the distance and how dim the light was on the balcony, all I could make out was a vague white blotch.

“I don’t know. It looks like a sheet or a piece of cloth. Maybe it’s to show where people should put their flowers.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed.

At our feet, the square was gradually filling with people lining the path leading to the church.

“It’s strange,” she said, hugging her knees. “We’re right in the center of a city in the midst of a celebration, and yet we’re invisible.”

“Don’t worry, it really is impossible for anybody to

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