The Prisoner of Heaven (The Cemetery of Forgotten 3)

‘Your wish is my command, Daniel. Now, if you don’t object, I’ll go and do something useful and start opening the boxes from the widow Recasen’s lot. They’ve been here for a week gathering dust.’

‘Shall I help you?’

‘Don’t worry. You get on with your stuff.’

I watched him make his way to the stockroom at the far end and put on his blue work overalls.

‘Fermín,’ I began.

He turned round obligingly. I paused for a moment.

‘Something happened today that I need to tell you about.’

‘Yes?’

‘Actually, I’m not quite sure how to explain this. Someone came in and asked after you.’

‘Was she pretty?’ asked Fermín, trying to look jolly but unable to hide a flicker of anxiety in his eyes.

‘It was a gentleman. In pretty bad shape and rather odd looking, to tell you the truth.’

‘Did he leave a name?’ asked Fermín.

I shook my head.

‘No. But he left this for you.’

Fermín frowned. I handed him the book the stranger had bought a couple of hours before. Fermín took it and stared at the cover without understanding.

‘But isn’t this the Dumas we had in the glass cabinet at three hundred and fifty?’

I nodded.

‘Open it at the first page.’

Fermín did as I asked. When he read the dedication he suddenly went pale and gulped. He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked at me without saying a word, seeming to have aged five years in as many seconds.

‘When he left the shop I followed him,’ I said. ‘For the past week he’s been living in a seedy establishment where they rent rooms by the hour, on Calle Hospital, opposite the Hotel Europa, and from what I’ve been able to find out, he uses a false name – yours, in fact: Fermín Romero de Torres. I’ve discovered, through one of the scribes in La Virreina, that he had a letter copied out in which he referred to a large amount of money. Does any of this ring a bell?’

Fermín seemed to be curling up, as if every word I spoke were a blow raining down on him.

‘Daniel, it’s very important that you don’t follow this individual or speak to him again. Don’t do anything. Keep well away from him. He’s very dangerous.’

‘Who is this man, Fermín?’

Fermín closed the book and hid it behind a pile of boxes on one of the shelves. He took a quick look in the direction of the shop and once he was sure my father was still busy with the customer and couldn’t hear us, he drew closer to me and spoke in a very low voice.

‘Please don’t tell your father or anyone else about this.’

‘Fermín …’

‘Do me this favour. For the sake

of our friendship.’

‘But, Fermín …’

‘Please, Daniel. Not here. Trust me.’