Page 75 of The Bookshop of Forbidden Books

“You did.”

“I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

This wasn’t actually true; she really did want to get back to work, but when Mitch had moved to help her without even suggesting that they had more urgent things to deal with than making a pastilla, Anna had come to her senses for the both of them.

“If you aren’t ready to confront your old teacher yet, let’s at least go and see her lover,” she suggested.

“Verner?”

“Does she have more than one?”

Mitch glanced at his watch and took off the apron.

“His class finishes in half an hour,” he said, grabbing the keys to the van.

But when they pulled into the conservatoire car park, they found all the spaces empty. They entered the building through the stage door. The theatre was deserted. A muffled noise came from backstage. Mitch led Anna into the wings.

Verner was slouched in an armchair, wearing a dressing gown and holding a glass of whiskey.

“You’ve come after the battle,” he said, visibly exhausted. “Shame; the evening was a real success.”

“Grieg?” ventured Mitch.

“No, this was the first-year students’ concert. And I lied, it was dreadful. But the parents pretended to enjoy it. I suppose after Santa Claus and the tooth fairy, they’re no strangers to make-believe if it makes their little monsters happy. Anyway, what brings you here at this late hour?” Verner asked, his gaze fixed on Anna.

She knew how much it had cost Mitch to come here, and so she took the lead and explained the reason for their visit.

Verner listened carefully as she spoke. He didn’t interrupt once; not when she described what she’d found in Salinas’s notebook and what Mitch had discovered while digging through the court records, nor when she told him that Mitch had been betrayed and reported, and not even when she talked about Fahrenheit 451 being used as evidence to convict him.

But when she reached the part about the locked bookshop door and the alarm that hadn’t gone off, Verner drained his whiskey in one gulp and let the glass thump to the floor. Slowly he rose and turned to Mitch, full of guilt.

“It was me who robbed you.”

“But – why, Verner! What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I never planned on becoming a villain; it just happened. And before I joined your secret reading group in the cellar, I generally thought of myself as a half-decent fellow. Do you know how hard it is to grow old? Knowing you’re going to die soon is bad enough, but it gets worse. Knowing you’ve lived like an idiot… well, it’s unbearable, believe me.

“Oh, I didn’t wait until I got this old to figure that out. Even the arrogant ones see through their own mediocrity, deep down. Hell, I’d argue they’re especially aware of it. Now, imagine life finally giving you the opportunity to do something remarkable – or at least something people might actually notice. A kind of… moral deviation, I suppose, that grants you privileges you’ve never had: recognition, importance.

“Thirty years of teaching music and still, every night I went home alone, just another grey coat on the metro. Thirty years, only to end up alone on a bench at the lake every Sunday, talking to the ducks. They gave me a medal, invited me to join the Academy, and”— he raised a finger, eyes lighting up with pride – “awarded me the title of honoris causa en música.”

“What does that mean?” Mitch asked.

“No bloody clue, but it must be highly prestigious, because after that I started getting invited to official receptions and fancy dinner parties where the speeches and the toasts never stop – no time left for small talk, which is the dream, honestly. I even had my own personal seat at the opera. Not to mention an honourable retirement.”

“Honourable?” Anna repeated sharply. “Really?”

“Let’s not nitpick. You want my apologies for all the pain I’ve caused you? Well, you have them, with the deepest sincerity.”

Anna stood up and walked towards him. She leaned in so close that Verner flinched, convinced for a moment that she was going to slap him. But she only looked deep into his eyes, studying him so intently that it felt like she was going to climb inside his soul.

Then she straightened up again and gave him a sly smile: a smile that, given the circumstances, Verner found disturbingly attractive.

“You’re lying, Verner. You never did any of that.”

He let out a long sigh. His shoulders sagged, and so did his ego.

“Okay. You’re right. I’d never have been brave enough for such cowardice.”