The Summer of Dead Toys Read Online Free

herself: nobody would have said so fragile a body could contain so much blood. Héctor tried to block the image from his mind, that same vision that at the time had made him lose his head and go in search of Dr. Omar to extract every bone from his body. That individual’s name had come up during the investigation: in theory his only function had been to attend to the girls’ health. But the fear betrayed by the girls on hearing his name indicated that the doctor’s duties went further than purely medical attention. Not one had dared speak of him. He took precautions and the girls were brought to his clinic individually or in pairs. The most he could be accused of was of not asking questions, and that was a very weak accusation for a witch doctor who ran a squalid clinic and tended to illegal immigrants. But that wasn’t enough for Héctor; he’d chosen to lean on the youngest, the most frightened, with the help of an interpreter. All it had achieved was that Kira said, in a very quiet voice, that the doctor had examined her to check whether she was still a virgin and in passing he’d reminded her that she must do what those men said. Nothing else. The following day, her child’s hand took up a pair of scissors and made her body a fountain of blood. In Héctor’s eighteen years in the police force he’d never seen anything like it, and he’d seen a lot: from junkies without a healthy piece of skin to inject into, to victims of every type of violence. But nothing like this. A macabre, perverse sensation emanated from Kira’s mutilated body, something unreal which he couldn’t put into words. Something belonging to the realm of nightmares.
“Another thing,” Savall continued, as if the previous point had already been agreed without argument. “Before being reinstated, you have to attend some sessions with a force psychologist. It’s mandatory. Your first appointment is tomorrow at eleven. So do what you can to appear sane. Starting with a shave.”
Héctor didn’t protest; in fact, he already knew. Suddenly, and in spite of all the good resolutions he’d made on the long flight back, he didn’t give a shit about any of it. Any of it except the bloody pig’s head.
“Can I go?”
“One moment. I don’t want statements to the press, not even a hint of one. As far as you’re concerned, all of this is ongoing and you have no comment. Have I made myself clear?”
Seeing Héctor nod, Savall exhaled and smiled. Salgado got up, ready to leave, but the superintendent didn’t seem disposed to let him go yet.
“How was Buenos Aires?”
“Well, you know . . . it’s like the Perito Moreno glacier: from time to time it looks like it’s going to fall to pieces but the block stays firm.”
“It’s a fantastic city. And you’ve put on weight!”
“Too many barbecues. Each Sunday I had one in a different friend’s house. It’s difficult to resist.” The phone on Savall’s desk rang again and Héctor wanted to take advantage of the moment to get out of that office once and for all.
“Wait, don’t go. Yes? Fuck! Tell her I’ll call her back. Then tell her again!”
“Problems?” asked Héctor when his boss had hung up.
“What would life be without them?” Savall fell silent for a few seconds. This usually happened when an idea suddenly seized him and he needed time to translate it into words. “Listen,” he said very slowly. “I think there’s something you can do for me. Unofficially.”
“Do you want me to beat someone up? Fine with me.”
“What?” Savall was still absorbed in his deliberations, which exploded like bubbles in an instant. “Sit down.” He inhaled, nodding and smiling with satisfaction, as if he were convincing himself of his brilliant idea. “The person who called was Joana Vidal.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you were away when it all happened. It was the night of San Juan.” Savall opened one or two files on the desk until he