Antía and her family would hate him forever, and he would be responsible for every terrible thing that happened to poor Diego, but try as he might, he could see no way out.
They were all in a terrible mess.
12
The Hammer
His headache was getting worse, and now he felt a drop of water on his cheek, followed in rapid succession by two more. He looked up and saw that the clouds had darkened and it was starting to rain.
“We have to get the body out of here.” Ramón Docampo pointed at Pampín with his cigarette. “It’s going to get soaked.”
“We can’t move it until the authorities and the pathologist arrive. They’ll have to take photos and record all the details ...”
“Hold it, Lobeira.” The old man rested one of his heavy, calloused hands on Roberto’s shoulder in an almost intimate gesture. “You’re a man of the world, and I’m sure you know all about police procedures and magistrates and the rest of it ... but you don’t have a clue about how this island works.”
“What do you mean?”
“When it rains, all the water runs down from up there ...” He pointed at the hills, dotted with empty vacation homes. “And it will find the easiest route to the sea. That route runs along this road. If we don’t get the body out of here, it’ll get totally soaked. It might even get washed away if it rains hard. We have to move it.”
Roberto nodded. He was starting to feel completely overwhelmed.
“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. “And where will we put it?”
“Our little supermarket is just over there.” Ramón pointed to an aluminum door plastered with faded, soft-drink stickers. “It’s empty right now.”
Ramón Docampo thrust his hand into his pocket and brought out a bunch of keys, which he gave to his son, Luis. As he handed them over, he whispered something into his son’s ear, and Luis gave a discreet nod.
“While we sort this business out, I suggest we put the money away.” He tipped his head in the direction of the wheelbarrow, which the previous few minutes had put out of people’s thoughts. “We can’t leave it out in the rain.”
“Locked away in your shithole of a store?” One of the Freires spat on the ground. “Fat chance.”
“Where then?” Ramón replied. “In one of the hovels you lot rent out, so that you can keep guard over it?”
You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. Roberto saw that there was a very real chance of more violence breaking out.
“Isn’t there some neutral ground, somewhere that’s acceptable to both families? The church, say?”
Behind him stood a modern brick building adorned with the ugliest bell tower imaginable.
After a tense pause, everyone agreed.
“Okay, in the church,” said Ramón Docampo reluctantly. “We’ll take care of it. You and Luis deal with Pampín. Let’s get a move on!”
That was enough to jolt everyone into action. While some opened the doors of the church wide, others hurried to raise the wheelbarrow into the air, like a bizarre parody of an Easter procession, and carry it up the steps. Roberto watched them disappear inside, from where he heard muffled voices. He couldn’t tell if they were talking about the murder they had just witnessed or what to do with their share of the money. The sense of unreality, of sliding at full speed down a slippery slope, was only accentuated by his migraine.
“Come on, Mr. Smart-Ass,” said Luis Docampo with his strange, twisted smile. “Quit daydreaming and help me move the corpse.”
Roberto took the body by the ankles, and Luis grabbed it under the arms. Pampín was heavier than he looked, and Roberto’s muscles soon began to burn as he struggled toward the supermarket.
When they reached the store, they laid him on the ground so that Luis could unlock the door. Inside, the place was dark and smelled slightly mildewed. He could just make out a long counter, behind which was a series of shelves that in the summer would be stacked with products but just now were half empty.
The freezer compartments—lying open, the electricity turned off—were like the abandoned sarcophagi of a lost civilization. With one final effort, they lifted the corpse onto the long wooden counter.
“And now what?”
“We should stick him in one of those freezers.” Luis Docampo pointed at one of the chests, as if he’d read Roberto’s mind. “We can’t leave him on the counter, can we?”
“Aren’t they disconnected?”
