The lighthouse keeper came over with two cups, which looked tiny in his meaty hands. He sat down across from Roberto and fixed him with a hard stare. All his previous cordiality was gone.
“Okay, now that it’s just the two of us, you’re going to tell me everything that happened yesterday in the village. With no omissions. I want the unvarnished truth—otherwise there will be consequences.”
17
A Friendly Chat
For a moment, Roberto was speechless. It wasn’t going to be the lighthearted book-related chat he’d expected. The lighthouse keeper, a hard look on his face, was watching him intently.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roberto said.
“Oh, I think you do.”
“I really don’t. You’ll have to explain a bit more ...”
“Do I look like an idiot?” spat Ibaibarriaga.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, Do I look like an idiot?” Ibaibarriaga spoke slowly and deliberately. “Because I sure don’t like being treated like one. I know something’s gone down, and I want you to fill me in on all the details.”
Roberto didn’t like bullies, as Luis Docampo had discovered when the two had first met. And he also didn’t like it when people tried to intimidate him.
“What if I don’t feel like it?”
Ibaibarriaga shrugged, interlaced his fingers, and cracked his knuckles threateningly.
“This is a dangerous island in the winter,” he said blithely, “especially on stormy days like today. Things happen to people, bad things, all the time. And you don’t want bad things to happen to you, do you?”
“Are you threatening me?” Roberto got to his feet, his blood rising.
“Sit down, man. I was only joking,” said the lighthouse keeper, with an ambiguous expression that was anything but reassuring, while pointing to the couch. “This is just a friendly chat.”
“Doesn’t seem very friendly to me.”
“I’ll tell you what I believe went down, and you can tell me if I’m right or not. How about that?”
Roberto stared at him for a moment but eventually sat down again. Although he didn’t like the way the conversation was going, it seemed sensible to find out what the man wanted.
“The other day, soon after your arrival on the island, you went down to the village around ten in the morning. You sat on a terrace with Luis Docampo. The two of you talked for a while, and then you went to the beach, am I right?”
Roberto nodded, intrigued. The guy had been watching him through his telescope with all the patience of an entomologist who had just discovered a new species of insect. Still, there were gaps in the story. He’d said nothing about Roberto’s encounter with Rosalía Freire and her daughter Helena. The telescope must have some blind spots.
“Somewhere along the way, you met up with the little Freire weirdo, that Diego.” Ibaibarriaga paused to take a noisy sip from his coffee cup. “The two of you then walked to the end of the beach, and there was something floating just offshore, and you stripped off, dived in, and went and pulled it out.”
Roberto felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. This was not sounding good at all.
“It looked like you and the kid didn’t have the easiest time of it, but you managed to fish the bundle out in the end.” He gave a wolfish smile. “A yellow one, about yea big. All coming back to you now?”
Roberto nodded mechanically. His coffee was getting cold, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink it.
“After a while, Helena Freire and Tristán Docampo came to help get the bundle up to the village in a wheelbarrow.” He paused briefly, looking pensive. “What was in that bundle, Lobeira? Tell me the truth.”
“Just some fishing gear,” he replied defensively. “Some lobster pots they wanted back.”
Ibaibarriaga chuckled, a mocking look on his face that Roberto didn’t like at all.
“This is where it starts to get interesting, because in a matter of minutes, at least a dozen Freires and Docampos came running into the village from all directions, and I’m wondering why. On account of some old pots?”
