“We’ll find a solution.”
Isabella smiled.
“I was hoping you’d say that. And speaking of unfinished business, please tell me you’re no longer working for the boss.”
I showed her my hands were clean.
“I’m a free agent once more.”
She accompanied me up the stairs and was about to say good-bye when she appeared to hesitate.
“What?” I asked her.
“I’d decided not to tell you, but … I’d rather you heard it from me than from someone else. It’s about Señor Sempere.”
We went into the house and sat down in the gallery by the open fire, which Isabella revived by throwing on a couple of logs. The ashes of Marlasca’s Lux Aeterna were still visible and my former assistant threw me a glance I could have framed.
“What were you going to tell me about Sempere?”
“It’s something I heard from Don Anacleto, one of the neighbors in the building. He told me that on the afternoon Señor Sempere died he saw him arguing with someone in the shop. Don Anacleto was on his way back home and he said that their voices could be heard from the street.”
“Whom was he arguing with?”
“It was a woman. Quite old. Don Anacleto didn’t think he’d ever seen her around there, though he did say she looked vaguely familiar. But you never know with Don Anacleto. He likes to chatter on more than he likes sugared almonds.”
“Did he hear what they were arguing about?”
“He thought they were talking about you.”
“About me?”
Isabella nodded.
“Sempere’s son had gone out for a moment to deliver an order in Calle Canuda. He wasn’t away for more than ten or fifteen minutes. When he got back he found his father lying on the floor, behind the counter. Señor Sempere was still breathing but he was cold. By the time the doctor arrived, it was too late …”
I felt the whole world collapsing on top of me.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” whispered Isabella.
“No. You did the right thing. Did Don Anacleto say anything else about the woman?”
“Only that he heard them arguing. He thought it was about a book. Something she wanted to buy and Señor Sempere didn’t want to sell her.”
“And why did he mention me? I don’t understand.”
“Because it was your book. The Steps of Heaven. It was Señor Sempere’s only copy, in his personal collection, and not for sale.”
I was filled with a dark certainty.
“And the book … ?” I began.
“It’s no longer there. It disappeared,” Isabella explained. “I checked the sales ledger, because Señor Sempere always made a note of every book he sold, with the date and the price, and this one wasn’t there.”
“Does his son know?”
“No. I haven’t told anybody except you. I’m still trying to understand what happened that afternoon in the bookshop. And why. I thought perhaps you might know …”
“I suspect the woman tried to take the book by force, and in the quarrel Señor Sempere suffered a heart attack. That’s what happened,” I said. “And all over a damned book of mine.”