Summer Snow (32 page)
Something in his tone made the lieutenant look at him sharply. “Don’t tell me?”
“It’s perfectly healthy, Lieutenant. No one had tampered with it,” Rivas admitted sheepishly.
“The smelling salts?” Tejada demanded.
“Good for reviving fainting ladies, sir.” The sergeant made a weak attempt at a joke.
“The food samples?” Tejada asked with some desperation.
“Sorry, sir.”
Tejada sighed. “Oh, well. We’ll find out how it was administered eventually. Has Cordero talked?”
“A little, sir.” Rivas was not noticeably cheered by this reference.
“Well?”
“He admits that he was trying to contact his brother-in-law, but he won’t say where the brother-in-law is. He’s still insisting he’s never seen the propaganda before and has no idea how it got there.”
“Did he say anything about Doña Rosalia?” Tejada demanded.
Rivas looked miserable. “Just that he would never have been fool enough to kill her because look where it landed him, and he’d like to lay hands on the idiot who did.” He paused to see if Tejada was going to say anything and then added, almost in a whisper, “I’m sorry, sir. But I’m afraid he might be telling the truth.”
“It’s always annoying when they do that, isn’t it?” Tejada wondered what would happen to Maya and Pepín and baby Mariana if Felipe was arrested for murder. “It makes it so hard to get them to change their stories.”
T
ejada and Rivas discussed the matter further, but came no closer to a solution. Nor did they reach a true accord, although Rivas did not openly challenge his superior officer’s judgment again. The lieutenant knew that Rivas would have pursued Felipe Ordoñez further, and he was torn between anger at the sergeant’s stupidity and a sneaking fear that Rivas might be right. They parted after agreeing that Alberto Cordero should be transferred to the Guardia in the Alpujarra, who were more familiar with the sites and people involved, for further questioning regarding the guerrillas.
Tejada searched for his wife when he reached home and found her sitting with his mother, discussing opera. To be exact, his mother was explaining why the Princess Eboli’s solo in
Don
Carlo
was the high point of the act, and Elena was listening with a smile as glazed as a piece of porcelain. She greeted him with almost visible relief. “Carlos! How was your day?”
“Interesting,” Tejada said briefly, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. “And yours?”
“Lovely. Your mother was kind enough to take me shopping this morning.” Elena clasped his hand in welcome, and then gripped it as if she were drowning. “And then at lunch we talked a little about ways I could keep myself occupied in Potes.”
Tejada squeezed her hand in sympathy, pleased that he had the means of rescue at hand. “I hate to interrupt your discussion,” he said, glancing at the clock, “but I actually have an invitation for you. For seven o’clock.”
“Oh, really?” Doña Consuela was suspicious. “I thought your wife preferred to make her social calls alone.”
Elena dug her fingernails into her husband’s palm. The warning made him bite back his angry response and say instead, “I saw Amparo Villalobos today, and she was kind enough to invite Elena and me to visit her this evening.”
“Amparo?” Doña Consuela relaxed. “How sweet of her. But she always was a lovely girl. Such a shame you weren’t in Granada after Jaime died. She was simply devastated, and I’m sure you would have been a comfort to her.”
Given his own opinion of Jaime and Amparo’s evident estimation of her fiancé, Tejada could not help thinking that his mother was wrong, but now he said simply, “Well, I took the liberty of accepting the invitation. Would you mind a walk, Elena?”
Elena was already on her feet. “I’ll go and check on Toño.”
“He’s napping?”
“No, he wanted to play with Alejandra.” Elena looked briefly amused.
“I’d hoped he would get to know his cousins a little better,” put in Doña Consuela. “But Elena indulged him, even though I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.”
“I don’t think Toño’s at the age where we need to worry about him playing with the housemaids yet,” Tejada said, deliberately being provocative.
He took Elena’s arm and steered her out of the room before his mother had time for more than an outraged gasp. His wife turned to him, smiling faintly. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
Tejada looked sheepish. “I was afraid she would volunteer to come with us to Amparo’s.”
Elena laughed. “No fear of that. She’s glad to be rid of me. Let’s see if Toño wants to come along.”
The little boy declined the invitation to visit Amparo. The lieutenant and his wife set off for the Villaloboses’ house. On their way, Tejada briefly explained his meeting with Amparo and her history. Elena listened with interest, but after his family’s exclamations, Tejada found her brief expression of sympathy for Amparo’s plight perfunctory. “You worked over lunch,” Elena commented. “What
else
did you do today, besides see this little girl?”
“I tracked down Tío Felipe,” Tejada admitted uncomfortably.
Elena sensed restraint in his tone. “And?”
Tejada opened his mouth to spill all of Felipe’s startling secrets, and then closed it again. Elena was unlike any of the other women in his family. She would probably not be shocked by Felipe’s way of life. After all, she had known plenty of Reds who did not even believe in marriage as a sacrament. But did the fact that she had a tendency to immorality give him the right to speak to her as if she was a friend or colleague rather than the wife whom he was obliged to protect and honor? He hated the way his mother behaved toward Elena, but wouldn’t telling Elena about Lili be treating her with another form of subtle disrespect? He shrugged. “He’s still Felipe,” he said lightly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Elena said tartly.
“Nothing. Just that he’s always been unconventional and he still is.” Tejada spoke quickly, a little frightened by her tone.
“Unconventional how?” Tejada identified the tone in his wife’s voice as suspicion.
“Well, by not marrying and settling down,” he floundered, knowing that any other respectable woman would have understood by now that he did not wish to discuss Felipe’s lifestyle and drawn the appropriate inferences without embarrassing him. He felt a flash of guilt at the trite phrase, as if he was lying. “Settling down with a nice girl,” he amended truthfully.
Elena raised her eyebrows. “You make him sound as if he’s living secretly in a pirate’s lair and smuggling opium,” she commented.
Tejada laughed and remembered that he loved Elena because she made him laugh. She smiled back at him the way she did when they were at home, and he relaxed. “He’s living in the Albaicín with a Gypsy dancer and three kids whom he thinks are his,” he said.
“Three?” Elena repeated. “This must be a long-standing relationship then?”
“It looked very permanent,” Tejada agreed, and described Lili and the children to his wife. As he had expected, she was unfazed by their existence. When the lieutenant finally added that Felipe intended to marry Lili, Elena laughed.
“So he’s finally able to legalize things now that his mother’s dead!”
“I’m sure that’s not what kept him from marriage this long,” Tejada lied. “It’s a very serious step. Not something he would rush into.”
“You did!” Elena pointed out.
“You and Lili have nothing in common!” Tejada shot back, genuinely annoyed. “You never agreed to live in sin before marriage!”
“I never had much of an opportunity,” Elena retorted. “You weren’t so frightened of your mother.”
Tejada would have argued the point further, but they had reached the Villaloboses’ mansion, and there was no time for further discussion. He knocked and a maid admitted them and showed them into a sun-drenched room, where Amparo was waiting for them. The lieutenant spent the few moments in the hallway quashing the thought that Elena, as well as Rivas, assumed that Felipe wanted his mother out of the way.
Amparo greeted Tejada warmly and was politely happy to meet Elena. The lieutenant noticed that the girl’s manners toward his wife were less natural than toward him. In spite of her age and unmarried state, Amparo seemed anxious to be received as an equal, a concern that made her act a little overly gracious. Knowing Elena’s ability to put people at their ease, Tejada expected Amparo’s initial manner would be quickly overcome. So he was surprised when Elena made no attempt to respond to the girl’s friendliness. Poor Amparo smiled and chattered in vain. Elena did not thaw. Tejada, who had assumed the women would want to talk together and had resigned himself to being superfluous, found that he was taking a much larger role in the conversation than he had anticipated.
“So you’re living in Cantabria,” Amparo said, during a lull in the conversation. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”
“If you like mountains,” Elena agreed.
“I love them. I’ve always been glad that my window looks out at the Sierra.”
“Then you would probably like Potes,” Elena admitted. “Although you might find it a bit dull in the winters. We don’t have Granada’s glittering society.”
Amparo looked down. “I don’t go out very much anymore. Ever since my fiancé . . . I haven’t wanted to. But at least I’m able to be useful here.”
“Really?” Elena’s surprise was a little more excessive than courtesy dictated. “I know you’re a great comfort to Jaime’s family. What else do you do here?”
“A little charitable work.” Amparo was modest. “I’ve been involved with subscription drives for the hospital and for our war widows. And I’m a member of the ladies’ auxiliary of trustees of the orphanage.” She caught Tejada’s approving eye and smiled. “We had a meeting this afternoon actually, or I would have invited you to visit me earlier.”
“Do you do a lot of work for the orphanage?” the lieutenant asked, positive that an interest in children’s welfare would gain Elena’s approval if anything would and remembering Felipe’s vehement denunciation of the way Granada cared for its children.
“We have fundraising drives for the children several times a year,” Amparo explained. “And then there are several benefits for the poor things as well. Right now we’re focusing on a Christmas spectacle for them.”
“But you don’t actually go to the orphanage?” Elena clarified. Her voice was quiet and courteous, but Tejada sensed her disgust.
“Oh, yes. The committee visits once a month, to meet with some of the older girls.” Amparo cast her eyes down. “They need to be prepared against temptation when they go out into the world. So many of them . . . fall to sins of the flesh.”
“How much is a housemaid’s salary?” Elena demanded, her voice low but acid.
Fortunately, Tejada had anticipated her reaction and spoke loudly at the same moment. “I’m sure you do very valuable work.” He kicked his wife’s ankle.
“Yes. We’re very grateful you found time in your busy schedule to see us,” Elena said sweetly. “We really shouldn’t keep you any longer.”
“Oh, no, you’re most welcome,” Amparo protested.
Elena rose, inexorable. “That’s kind of you, but our son will need me.”
Amparo gave way gracefully. “I do hope to see you again soon.”
She accompanied them to the door, and Tejada, feeling his wife’s rudeness and anxious to make amends, invited her to visit them with more warmth than he really felt. Elena turned on him as soon as they were well away from the house. “Why on earth did you invite her to visit?”
“Because you practically spat at the poor girl!” Tejada retorted. “There was no need to be so abrupt with her.”
Elena sniffed. “Prissy little señorita. ‘I don’t go out very much anymore. Ever since my fiancé . . .’” She mimicked Amparo’s voice cruelly. “What a hypocrite!”
“Elena!” Tejada was shocked. “The girl’s in mourning!”
“In heat, you mean,” Elena retorted.
The lieutenant stared at his wife. “What?”
“That girl needs to find a husband, and soon, or she’ll suffocate from her own piety,” snapped Elena.
Tejada laughed to cover his unease. “There you’re wrong. I’m sure other people have wanted to marry her. But whatever else you say about her, she was in love with my cousin.”
“But she’ll take you as a consolation prize,” Elena said.
“Don’t be silly!”
Elena suddenly leaned on his arm, so heavily that he slowed his steps and looked down at her, concerned that she was ill. She looked up at him through her lashes and then blinked slowly several times. Tejada stopped walking and frowned. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Of course.” Elena straightened and spoke briskly. “I’m just showing you how she was looking at you the whole time we were there.”
“That’s not—” Tejada began, and then remembered Amparo clinging to his arm on the walk back from the Ordoñezes’. “That’s a little exaggerated, don’t you think?” he finished.
“No.” Elena was definite. “She was looking at you as if you were a tall glass of iced lemonade and she was very thirsty.”
The lieutenant’s laughter this time was unforced. “You’re just jealous.”