Water-Blue Eyes by Domingo Villar

Together they had learned many disparate things: that there was one sin graver than the others; that a goal scored from a penaltykick was a valid goal; that the derivative at a point equalled the slope of the line tangent to the graph of the function at that point … They had also heard Don José instructing them on extreme situations from the pulpit: for instance, if a terrorist is threatening a child’s family with a machine gun and asks the child to trample on a consecrated wafer, the child need not trample on it, for if the terrorist were to follow through and shoot, the family would ascend into heaven, happy and whole, as martyrs. On some occasions, provided that Alba was part of the deal, Leo would have agreed with Don José’s unorthodox theory. On most he wouldn’t.

    ‘Leo, you must be the only madman who comes to the lab when he wants to see me,’ said Ríos, by way of greeting.
    ‘Each to their own, you know.’
    They greeted with a hug. Although they no longer saw each other on a regular basis, they still acknowledged a pleasant well of friendship left over from childhood, when, for different reasons, both had found it quite difficult to interact with other children.
    ‘This time it’s not a personal visit, but a matter related to your line of work,’ said Leo Caldas, hinting at why he was there.
    ‘My what? Are you sure you’re OK?’
    ‘Don’t they pay you for coming here?’ asked Leo.
    ‘Only not to have me moping around the house,’ replied Ríos, and looked at the expensive watch he sported on his left wrist. ‘On a day like this, I’ll be on the boat in half an hour at the latest.’
    ‘Lucky for some,’ said the inspector.
    Ramón Ríos gestured in the direction of Estévez, who had lagged behind and was engrossed watching four young people in white coats manipulating a smoking green liquid.
    ‘You’ve got yourself a gorilla?’ he asked in a low voice.
    ‘Rafael Estévez, my new assistant. He’s only been in the city a few months. Rafael!’ he called out.
    ‘Quite a beast! I’m sure you’re well protected,’ muttered Ríos, winking at him in the same naughty manner he had as a child. ‘I’d heard radio celebrities need bodyguards.’
    ‘It must be that,’ Caldas said tersely.
    Estévez came over and said hello to Ríos.
    ‘How’s it going?’
    ‘Well, losing quite a bit of hair. Otherwise I can’t complain.’
    ‘Rafael, this is Ramón Ríos,’ said Caldas.
    ‘A pleasure,’ said Estévez, and pointed in the direction of the men in white coats. ‘What are they doing?’
    ‘The ones with the green smoke?’
    Rafael Estévez nodded.
    ‘I have no idea,’ replied Ríos, as if there were no other possible answer to the officer’s question. ‘I only know about stuff in my area, and not even much about that, to be honest. In my family the clever one was Grandpa Lisardo, who set up this joint. Nowadays, the really clever ones are my brother , my cousin and the cat. And, round here, no one’s terribly clever either. In fact they’re all pretty dumb,’ he said, looking at a couple of employees coming down the corridor. ‘The best brains go over to the competition. The thing is, since Zetiza was floated, it pays better than us.’
    Estévez nodded slightly.
    Ramón carried on with his speech.
    ‘Anyway, I’m allergic to the lab myself, and that’s why I’m here as little as possible. I often get these rashes, you know, which only heal with seawater and a nice breeze. I’m sure it’s some kind of incompatibility between wine and one of the substances we produce here. Do you want to know something ?’ he asked, looking at Rafael Estévez.
    ‘No, thank you,’ replied the officer, who, after listening to the maelstrom of words Ríos was capable of, thought it more advisable not to take part in the conversation.
    ‘Leo tells me you’re not from round here.’
    ‘No, sir, I’m from Zaragoza. Have you been there?’
    ‘Do you say “sir” because I’m