WHY ME...?
Why send me a copy of the text, if Jorge was so reserved?
The simple fact that we worked together was not reason enough to believe that there was total trust between us.
If that were the case, he would have told me about his affair with Geovanna — Gregory quickly and mentally went over the fact, reflecting as sincerely as possible, while the headlights briefly illuminated the interior of the luxurious car as it passed along Alcalá Street.
I admit that, of his colleagues, I was the one who spent the most time with him...
And it is true that I admired his work as a paleographer, which was truly fantastic, and also his books, published all over the world... Some of them were really interesting, but there was a big difference between sharing a routine job and knowing his private life. Viana might have seemed stupid, given the way he dressed and behaved, but his gray matter worked better than all of us put together...
There must be a reason why he wanted to involve me in this!
The Jaguar's tires screeched as he rounded the bend at Cibeles Fountain. He had no choice but to hold on to the door handle, so as not to let himself be carried away by the uncomfortable effect of gravity. Juanes looked in the rearview mirror. Smiling was his best way of apologizing.
— I'm sorry, sir — he said in a measured, neutral tone. — Sometimes it's impossible to resist the charm of the machine.
— For a moment I forgot you were back there! — Gregory Evans accepted the apology with a conciliatory gesture of his hand, but reminded him — in no uncertain terms — that he was in no hurry to get home.
— It's been a tough day, hasn't it? — The driver, grateful for the tolerance the detective had shown, tried to start a conversation, to feel more at ease.
— Losing a friend is always...
— I'll tell you that! — the driver stated categorically. — In my profession, many friends have died on the road. Most of the time it's because of their bosses, who force them to step on the gas because they're always late for their appointments. And it's even worse if we talk about those who carry cargo, working in the transportation sector... The mortality rate is increasing. Without going any further, the other day a colleague told me that...
Greg closed his eyes, forgetting for a moment the young man behind the wheel, who seemed to be enjoying himself by recalling the most gruesome events of his career.
There's something that doesn't quite fit in Geovanna's story... — he thought again, trying to remember the arrogant director's words.
Her version of the interrogation was very far-fetched. It seemed like the script of a second-rate movie. On the one hand, and I find it incredible that something like this happened, the police had told her, without further ado, the details of how Viana was murdered, including the writing on the wall.
Then, they refused to continue talking to her, after asking her if the victim had the habit of burning her papers. Acting in that way went against the guidelines of a proper criminal investigation. It was absurd behavior... Who would believe something so absurd? And even if it wasn't the police... How is it possible that Geovanna knew with total accuracy what happened in Jorge's apartment?
Gregory Evans opened his eyes, putting aside his gloomy thoughts. If Geovanna was hiding something from him, sooner or later she would find out... From his own experience, he was convinced that lies have very short legs. Juanes was still talking to himself when the car turned into Puerta del Sol and continued along Carretas Street.
Then, Greg decided to pick up the thread of the conversation, out of deference to the person who had been tasked with taking him to his apartment. He would have time to reflect between a good shower and a gin and tonic, as usual. He still had an hour and a half left before he had to talk to Alissa.