afternoon …’
Since she now had him on the hook, there followed another monologue which eventually resolved into a plaintive ‘Just who do you think you are?’ And then silence, as she waited for Carvalho to give an answer that she knew he was incapable of giving. And then, finally, acceptance of his ‘I’ll be round later this afternoon,’ delivered in the tones of a man admitting defeat.
Carvalho waited for Biscuter to return — a Biscuter still smarting from his dressing-down — and he explained the Mortimer case to him as if it was vital for Biscuter to be kept informed of its progress. It didn’t take long for him to take up his allotted role as a faithful Watson and to apply his analytical shrewdness to the situation in hand.
‘It must be the Arabs, boss.’
‘What Arabs?’
‘The Arab sheikhs, boss. They’re buying up all our best players and carting them off to their cities in the desert. They’ve got the money to build themselves teams that are unbeatable. First they put the wind up Mortimer, and then they sign him. I happened to hear what you were talking about with Bromide, and I’ve drawn my own conclusions. He wasn’t saying anything we don’t know already. I’ve been thinking more or less the same myself — you only have to walk round town to see what’s going on. You’ve been travelling too much lately, and either because of your travelling, or maybe because you’re stuck up in Vallvidrera, you haven’t noticed how things are changing round here. It’s the Wild West all over again, but this time it’s knives instead of guns. Are you infor supper? I’ve got the necessaries to make a
brandada de urade
.’
‘And what might that be, Biscuter?’
‘It’s a recipe I got out of the encyclopaedia I was telling you about. It just so happens I’ve still got a piece of fish left over from the other day. It won’t take long to prepare — all it needs is taking out the bones and adding oil and garlic, whisk the cream and add salt, pepper and a drop of tabasco. Put it through the blender and it’s done. Five minutes.’
‘Why not!’
Biscuter was happier now, and as he disappeared into the kitchen he gave Carvalho an update on Charo’s state of mind.
‘She’s angry, boss, but it’ll pass. She told me she’s just about on the breadline these days, what with the Aids scare and all that, and the only clients she can still count on are her regulars, and they’re all getting old. One of them’s just died, in fact. A chemist from Tarasa. That’s why she was a bit depressed. You know what a softie she is.’
Carvalho shared the
brandada de urade
with Biscuter, and they washed it down with a bottle of Milmanda de Torres, a fact which Biscuter found amazing until he realized that the bottle’s presence was his boss’s attempt at a peace offering. Carvalho ate hurriedly, because he felt an urgent need to get out into the streets and see or talk with people who weren’t going to burden him with hard-luck stories or premonitions of hard-luck stories to come. He used the pretext of his appointment with Charo and left. He decided to go on foot, so as to observe at first-hand the changes that Biscuter had talked about.
‘Mind how you go, boss. Honestly, the way things are going … The other day I read in the papers that they’re planning to pull down half the Barrio Chino, from Perecamps on upwards, because knocking it down will let some fresh air in, they say. The place is beginning to feel like a graveyard.’
Carvalho was propelled out onto the street by a sense of irritation. Admittedly he had been travelling a lot, and admittedlyVallvidrera was a fair way from the city centre, but it was unreasonable to suggest that he would no longer recognize the places where he’d spent his childhood. How could they just spirit away all the old places? Presumably the fashion of imagining that everything had changed had now reached the lower classes, and Biscuter was singing, out of
Since she now had him on the hook, there followed another monologue which eventually resolved into a plaintive ‘Just who do you think you are?’ And then silence, as she waited for Carvalho to give an answer that she knew he was incapable of giving. And then, finally, acceptance of his ‘I’ll be round later this afternoon,’ delivered in the tones of a man admitting defeat.
Carvalho waited for Biscuter to return — a Biscuter still smarting from his dressing-down — and he explained the Mortimer case to him as if it was vital for Biscuter to be kept informed of its progress. It didn’t take long for him to take up his allotted role as a faithful Watson and to apply his analytical shrewdness to the situation in hand.
‘It must be the Arabs, boss.’
‘What Arabs?’
‘The Arab sheikhs, boss. They’re buying up all our best players and carting them off to their cities in the desert. They’ve got the money to build themselves teams that are unbeatable. First they put the wind up Mortimer, and then they sign him. I happened to hear what you were talking about with Bromide, and I’ve drawn my own conclusions. He wasn’t saying anything we don’t know already. I’ve been thinking more or less the same myself — you only have to walk round town to see what’s going on. You’ve been travelling too much lately, and either because of your travelling, or maybe because you’re stuck up in Vallvidrera, you haven’t noticed how things are changing round here. It’s the Wild West all over again, but this time it’s knives instead of guns. Are you infor supper? I’ve got the necessaries to make a
brandada de urade
.’
‘And what might that be, Biscuter?’
‘It’s a recipe I got out of the encyclopaedia I was telling you about. It just so happens I’ve still got a piece of fish left over from the other day. It won’t take long to prepare — all it needs is taking out the bones and adding oil and garlic, whisk the cream and add salt, pepper and a drop of tabasco. Put it through the blender and it’s done. Five minutes.’
‘Why not!’
Biscuter was happier now, and as he disappeared into the kitchen he gave Carvalho an update on Charo’s state of mind.
‘She’s angry, boss, but it’ll pass. She told me she’s just about on the breadline these days, what with the Aids scare and all that, and the only clients she can still count on are her regulars, and they’re all getting old. One of them’s just died, in fact. A chemist from Tarasa. That’s why she was a bit depressed. You know what a softie she is.’
Carvalho shared the
brandada de urade
with Biscuter, and they washed it down with a bottle of Milmanda de Torres, a fact which Biscuter found amazing until he realized that the bottle’s presence was his boss’s attempt at a peace offering. Carvalho ate hurriedly, because he felt an urgent need to get out into the streets and see or talk with people who weren’t going to burden him with hard-luck stories or premonitions of hard-luck stories to come. He used the pretext of his appointment with Charo and left. He decided to go on foot, so as to observe at first-hand the changes that Biscuter had talked about.
‘Mind how you go, boss. Honestly, the way things are going … The other day I read in the papers that they’re planning to pull down half the Barrio Chino, from Perecamps on upwards, because knocking it down will let some fresh air in, they say. The place is beginning to feel like a graveyard.’
Carvalho was propelled out onto the street by a sense of irritation. Admittedly he had been travelling a lot, and admittedlyVallvidrera was a fair way from the city centre, but it was unreasonable to suggest that he would no longer recognize the places where he’d spent his childhood. How could they just spirit away all the old places? Presumably the fashion of imagining that everything had changed had now reached the lower classes, and Biscuter was singing, out of
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