Havana Red by Leonardo Padura

me,” he said. “Well, it has to do with the dress they found him in and the fact he wasn’t a transvestite. Rather he wasn’t what you’d call practising, although he sometimes played at it. He donned disguises and created various personae. As much feminine as masculine, though he’d never have been capable of going on stage, you understand? He was too shy and cerebral for that and very inhibited, do you see? . . . But he always liked that dress, the one I designed on that night in Paris for my version of Electra Garrigó to be premièred in the Théâtre des Nations in Paris in 1971. And although Alexis was homosexual, as you must have gathered, I never imagined he’d have the daring necessary to be a transvestite and, as far as I know, he never did go into the street dressed as a woman.”

    â€œSo why did he do so yesterday?”
    â€œI don’t know, you should find out . . . That is what you’re paid for, aren’t you?”
    â€œApparently,” replied the Count. “By the way, was Alexis Catholic?”
    â€œYes, of course. And half mystic.”
    â€œAnd did he ever mention the day of the Transfiguration?”
    â€œOf the transfiguration? What transfiguration?”
    â€œChrist’s . . . the one celebrated yesterday, on August sixth.”
    â€œNo, he didn’t mention that . . . You know, he left yesterday without saying goodbye, but I wasn’t too worried, because he was like that: half neurotic, and sometimes very introverted. I heard him go out into the passage, and that’s why I know it was around seven. . . . Besides, for your information: Alexis and I were just friends. He had problems at home, his parents were threatening to kick him out every day, so he asked me to let him live here. But that was all there was to it, right? Every sheep has her mate and I’m too old to wolf it . . .”
    The Count lit up another cigarette and again wondered: what the fuck have I got into? This world was too remote and exotic for him and he felt totally bewildered, with a thousand questions the answers to which he had no access to. For example: did that old queer like queers or men? And is a man who goes with queers also queer? Can two queers be friends, even live together without having it off with each other? But he said: “Of course, I understand . . . And how did you and Alexis get to know each other? When did it happen?”
    The Marquess smiled again and patted his dressinggown lapels.

    â€œYou really don’t know? . . . You know, eighteen years ago, the year of Our Lord 1971, I was parameterized, and, naturally, didn’t possess the parameters they were after. Can you imagine – parameterizing an artist as if he were a pedigree dog? It would be almost comic if it weren’t tragic. And, on the other hand, it’s such an ugly word . . . To parameterize. Well, that whole business of parameterizing artists began and they expelled me from the theatre group and association of theatrical artistes, and after finding out I couldn’t work in a factory, as I should have done if I wanted to purify myself by contact with the working class, though nobody ever asked me if I wanted to be pure or the working class whether it was ready to accept such a detox challenge, they put me to work in a tiny library in Marianao, cataloguing books. I’ll confess something to you for which I hope you won’t put me inside, lieutenant sir: it was a mistake. You can’t put an artist too near fine books he doesn’t own, because he’ll steal them . . . Though he doesn’t have the soul of a thief, he’ll steal them . . . Just imagine: that library had an edition of Paradise Lost illustrated by Doré. You know the one I mean? Well, I can show you, if you like . . .”
    â€œThat won’t be necessary,” interjected the Count.
    â€œWell, I was working there and Alexis went to study in the library, as