Part 23 (1/2)

I nodded, astounded by the appearance of intelligent life in that den of horrors.

'And what for?'

'I'm her grandson.'

'And I'm the Marquis of Cremebrulee. You're a terrible liar, that's what you are. Tell me why you want to see her or I'll play the madman. It's easy here. And if you intend to ask these poor wretches one by one, you'll soon see what I mean.'

Juanito and his gang of inhalers were still howling with laughter. The soloist then gave off an encore, more muted and prolonged than the previous one. It sounded like a hiss, like a punctured tyre, and proved Juanito's virtuoso control over his sphincter. I yielded to the facts.

'You're right. I'm not a relative of Senora Coronado, but I need to speak to her. It's a matter of the utmost importance.'

The old man came up to me. He had a wicked, catlike smile the smile of a mischievous child, and his eyes were full of cunning.

'Can you help me?' I begged.

'That depends on how much you can help me.'

'If it's in my power, I'd be delighted to help you. Would you like me to deliver a message to your family?'

The old man laughed bitterly. 'My family were the ones who stuck me in this hole. They're a load of leeches; they'd steal my underpants while they're still warm. To h.e.l.l with them. I've kept them and put up with them for long enough. What I want is a woman.'

'Excuse me?'

The old man looked at me impatiently.

'Being young is no excuse for slow wit, child. I'm telling you I want a woman. A female, a maid, or a well-bred young filly. Young - under fifty-five, that is - and healthy, with no sores or fractures.'

'I'm not sure if I understand.

'You understand me perfectly. I want to have it off with a woman who has teeth and won't pee on me, before I depart for the other world. I don't mind whether she's good-looking or not; I'm half blind, and at my age any girl who has anything to hold onto is a Venus. Am I making myself clear?'

'Crystal. But I don't see how I'm going to find a woman for you. . . .'

'When I was your age, there was something in the service sector called ”ladies of easy virtue”. I know the world changes, but never in essence. Find one for me, plump and fun-loving, and we'll do business. And if you're asking yourself about my ability to enjoy a woman, I want you to know I'm quite content to pinch her backside and feel up her b.u.mpers. That's the advantage of experience.'

'Technicalities are your affair, sir, but I can't bring a woman to you here right now.'

'I might be a dirty old man, but I'm not stupid. I know that. Your promise is good enough for me.'

'And how do you know I won't say yes just to get you to tell me where Jacinta Coronado is?'

The old man gave me a sly smile. 'You give me your word, and leave any problems of conscience to me.'

I looked around me. Juanito was starting on the second half of his recital. Hope was ebbing away. Fulfilling this h.o.r.n.y granddad's request seemed to be the only thing that made any sense in that purgatory. 'I give you my word. I'll do what I can.'

The old man smiled from ear to ear. I counted three teeth.

'Blonde, even if it's peroxide. Pneumatically endowed and good at talking dirty, if possible. Of all the senses, the one that still works the best is my hearing.'

'I'll see what I can do. Now, tell me where I can find Jacinta Coronado.'

31.

'You've promised what to that old Methuselah?'

'You heard.'

'You were joking, I hope.'

'I can't lie to an old man who is at death's door, no matter how fresh he turns out to be.'

'And that does you credit, Daniel, but how do you think you're going to slip a wh.o.r.e into this holy house?'

'By paying her three times as much, I suppose. I leave all the specifics to you.'

Fermin shrugged resignedly. 'Oh, well, a deal's a deal. We'll think of something. But remember, next time a negotiation of this nature turns up, let me do the talking.'

'Agreed.'

Just as the crafty old devil had instructed, we found Jacinta Coronado in a loft that could only be reached by a staircase on the third floor. According to the old man, the attic was the refuge for the few patients whom fate had not yet had the decency to deprive of understanding. Apparently this hidden wing had, in its day, housed the rooms of Baltasar Deulofeu, aka Laszlo de Vicherny, from which he governed The Tenebrarium's activities and cultivated the loving arts newly arrived from the East, amid clouds of perfume and scented oils. And there was no lack of scent now, though of a very different nature. A woman who could only be Jacinta Coronado sagged in a wicker chair, wrapped in a blanket.

'Senora Coronado? I asked, raising my voice, in case the poor thing was deaf, half-witted, or both.

The elderly woman examined us carefully, with some reserve. Her eyes looked bleary, and only a few wisps of whitish hair covered her head. I noticed that she gave me a puzzled look, as if she'd seen me before but couldn't remember where. I was afraid Fermin was going to rush into introducing me as the son of Carax or some similar lie, but all he did was kneel down next to the old lady and take her trembling, wrinkled hand.

'Jacinta, I'm Fermin, and this handsome young lad is my friend Daniel. Father Fernando Ramos sent us. He wasn't able to come today because he had twelve ma.s.ses to say - you know what the calendar of saints' days is like - but he sends you his best regards. How are you feeling?'

The old woman smiled sweetly at Fermin. My friend stroked her face and her forehead. She appreciated the touch of another skin like a purring cat. I felt a lump in my throat.

'A stupid question, wasn't it?' Fermin went on. 'What you'd like is to be out there, dancing a foxtrot. You look like a dancer; everyone must tell you that.'

I had never seen him treat anyone with such delicacy, not even Bernarda. His words were pure flattery, but the tone and expression on his face were sincere.

'What pretty things you say,' she murmured in a voice that was broken from not having had anyone to speak to or anything to say.

'Not half as pretty as you, Jacinta. Do you think we could ask you some questions? Like on a radio contest, you know?'

The old woman just blinked in response.

'I'd say that's a yes. Do you remember Penelope, Jacinta? Penelope Aldaya? It's her we'd like to ask you about.'

Jacinta's eyes suddenly lit up and she nodded.

'My girl,' she murmured, and it looked like she was going to burst into tears.

'The very one. You do remember, don't you? We're friends of Julian. Julian Carax, the one who told scary stories. You remember that, too, don't you?'