The Angel's Game (The Cemetery of Forgotten 2)

“Well, he’s actually someone connected with my work. A publisher. Last night I’d arranged a meeting with him.”

“Can you tell me until what time you were with this person?”

“Until late. In fact, I ended up sleeping at his house.”

“I see. And this person you describe as being connected with your work, what is his name?”

“Corelli. Andreas Corelli. A French publisher.”

Grandes wrote the name down in a little notebook.

“The name sounds Italian,” he remarked.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t really know what his nationality is.”

“That’s understandable. And this Señor Corelli, whatever his nationality may be, would he be able to corroborate the fact that last night you were with him?”

“I suppose so.”

“You suppose so?”

“I’m sure he would. Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know, Señor Martín. Is there any reason you would think he might not?”

“No.”

“That’s settled then.”

Marcos and Castelo were looking at me as if I’d done nothing but tell lies since we sat down.

“One last thing. Could you explain the nature of the meeting you had last night with this publisher of indeterminate nationality?”

“Señor Corelli had arranged to meet me because he wanted to make me an offer.”

“What type of offer?”

“A professional one.”

“I see. To write a book, perhaps?”

“Exactly.”

“Tell me, is it usual after a business meeting to spend the night in the house of, how shall I put it, the contracting party?”

“No.”

“But you say you spent the night in this publisher’s house.”

“I stayed because I wasn’t feeling well and I didn’t think I’d be able to get back to my house.”

“The dinner upset you, perhaps?”

“I’ve had some health problems recently.”

Grandes nodded, looking duly concerned.

“Dizzy spells, headaches …” I added.