“I know where it is,” Alejandro offered. “It would easier if I drove her there so she’d have a way home.”
“We’ll bring her home,” Robles replied.
Ana finished her call to Paul Perez, gave Alejandro a quick good-bye kiss and carried her travel mug as she left with the detectives. “An attorney should meet us there, but it may take her a while to arrive.”
“We’ll wait,” Mesa assured her.
The backseat of their dark blue sedan was cleaner than she’d expected, and it had no grill to prevent passengers in the backseat from attacking the officers in front. She wondered what the pair had learned, if anything. When they reached Barcelona’s main police station, she was surprised to see Valeria waiting on a bench near the door. Dressed in a black top and jeans, the model had pulled her hair back to form a huge red puff.
Valeria leaped to her feet to hug Ana. “Why do they want to see us?”
She looked near tears. Ana gave her a comforting squeeze. “I’ve no idea how their tiny minds work. I
have an attorney coming. Do you?”
“No, I know absolutely nothing about Jaime’s death and didn’t want to pay for an attorney to sit beside me while I said so.”
The detectives had gone to the front desk. Ana sat down beside Valeria. There were uniformed officers and people in plain clothes everywhere she looked. “This is a busy place. I’d no idea there was so much crime in Barcelona to warrant all this activity near dawn.”
“I’ve no idea about anything,” Valeria replied.
Alejandro saw them as soon as he came through the front doors and joined them on the bench. Ana introduced him, and he smiled. “I’m glad to meet you, Valeria, but wish it had been under better circumstances.”
“So do I,” Valeria responded. “This is the first time I’ve ever been inside a police station.” She rubbed her arms. “It’s not a place I’d like to visit again.”
They waited nearly an hour before the attorney Paul Perez had called rushed through the door. Dressed in a black pants suit, with dark brown hair in a short stylish cut, her appearance was both striking and professional. She spoke in a hushed voice. “Miss Santillan, I’m Elena Covarrubias. From what I learned from Paul, the police are repeatedly questioning you without reason, which is harassment, and they’ve leaked a photo that has defamed your image and harmed your ability to earn a living. I’ll handle whatever questions they have. All you need do is sit quietly and listen unless I encourage you to speak.”
Ana was enormously relieved. “Thank you. Alejandro and I came up with some reasons Jaime Campos might have been slain, but none of them had anything to do with the models he knew.”
Elena’s proud posture stiffened. “Keep all speculation to yourself, Miss Santillan. Let the police do all the work in this case.”
Alejandro winked at Ana, and she nodded. “I understand.” She was puzzled when her name was called before Valeria’s. “There must be some mistake. She was here first.”
Sergeant Robles insisted there was no mistake. Ana and Elena followed him out of the room. Alejandro moved closer to Valeria. “I can understand their doing a thorough investigation, but they aren’t looking in the right place.”
Valeria responded with a shaky smile. “When we were on Mallorca, Ana said she’d met someone nice she wanted to see when she got home. I’m glad she wasn’t disappointed.”
She had such a wistful expression, Alejandro feared she had been disappointed all too often. “Thank you. We met by chance and just clicked. Do you know anything about Campos other than his work as a photographer?”
“I barely knew him. I’ve only been working professionally a year, and Ana’s worked since childhood, so she knows more about everyone.”
It jarred Alejandro to think Ana might know the murderer.
Elena Covarrubias and Ana sat on one side of the interview room’s table and Robles took the other while Mesa paced behind him. Robles cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d talked with Valeria Godina about Mr. Campos’s art photography?”
Elena leaned in to whisper in Ana’s ear, and Ana nodded. “You didn’t ask if I’d discussed it with anyone.”
“It didn’t seem relevant?”
“No,” Ana replied without prompting. She sat still to appear confident and unconcerned by the question, but she was more annoyed than frightened.
“We’d like to hear your version of the conversation.”
Elena only raised a brow, and Ana took a moment to recall before she spoke. “She asked if Mr. Campos had mentioned his art photography, and I said yes. I told her I didn’t do nudes and urged her not to let him coerce her into posing for him if she didn’t want to.”
Robles smiled. “So you spearheaded the models’ opposition to Mr. Campos’s project?”
“I spoke to Valeria, no one else. It was a casual conversation, not a diatribe against nude photography.”