The Summer of Dead Toys Read Online Free Page A

found what he was looking for. “Marc Castells Vidal, nineteen. He was celebrating the festival in his house, just him and two friends. At some point during the night, the boy fell through the window in his room. He died instantly.”
“A Superman complex after a couple of lines?”
“There were no drugs in his blood. Alcohol yes, but not in great quantities. It seems he had the habit of smoking a cigarette sitting on the windowsill. Maybe he lost his balance and fell, maybe he jumped . . . He was a strange boy.”
“Everyone’s strange at nineteen.”
“But they don’t fall from windows,” replied Savall. “The thing is that Marc Castells was the son of Enric Castells. That name ring a bell?”
Héctor meditated for a few seconds before answering. “Vaguely . . . Business? Politics?”
“Both. He used to run his own company with over a hundred employees. Then he invested in the property market, and he was one of the few who knew to get out before the bubble burst. And recently his name has cropped up repeatedly as the possible number two of a party. There’s quite a lot of movement in the lists for the next local elections and they say new faces are needed. At the moment nothing’s confirmed, but it’s clear that a couple of right-wing parties would like to have him in their ranks.”
“Successful businessmen always sell.”
“Even more at times of crisis. Well, the case is that the boy fell, or jumped from the window. Full stop. We have nothing else.”
“But?”
“His mother won’t accept it. It was she who called just now.” Savall looked at Héctor with the friendly attitude he did so well from time to time. “She’s Castells’ ex-wife . . . Bit of a murky story. Joana abandoned her husband and son when the boy was one or two years old. She only saw him again at the funeral.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yes. I knew her. Joana, I mean. Before she left. We were friends.”
“Oh yeah. The Barcelona old guard. Polo companions? I always forget how much you stand by each other.”
Savall made a disparaging gesture with his hand.
“Same everywhere. Look, like I said, officially we have nothing. I can’t put anyone on it to investigate, and I’m not so flush with inspectors that I can keep them busy with something that definitely won’t go anywhere. But . . .”
“But I’m free.”
“Exactly. Just take a look at the case: speak to the parents, the kids who were at the party. Give her a definitive answer.” Savall lowered his head. “You have a son too. Joana is only asking that someone dedicate more time to the boy’s death. Please.”
Héctor didn’t know if his boss was asking a favor of him, or if he’d guessed what he intended to do and was preventing it before it happened.
Savall passed him the file with a pained smile.
“We’ll sit down with Andreu tomorrow. She opened the case with the new girl.”
“We have a new girl?”
“Yeah, I put her with Andreu. A little bit green, but on paper she’s very clever. First in all the tests, a meteoric rise. You know how the young push.”
Héctor took the file and got up.
“I’m delighted to have you back with us.” Here was the solemn moment. Savall had numerous registers. At these times, his face reminded Héctor of Robert Duvall’s. Paternal, hard, condescending, a little bit slick. “I want you to keep me posted on how it goes with that shrink.” All that was missing was a “Behave yourself,” an “I hope I don’t regret this.”
They shook hands.
“And remember.” Savall squeezed his subordinate’s hand lightly. “The Castells case is unofficial.”
Héctor let go, but the echo of the phrase stuck in his mind, like one of those bluebottles that insist on bumping their heads against the glass.

2
    For the first time in days Joana Vidal felt something akin to peace. Even satisfaction, or at least relief. Someone had responded to her call, someone had assured her that they’d continue investigating until they reached a conclusive