The Flanders Panel

“I doubt it very much.” Cesar’s blue eyes revealed a glimmer of concern. “I think that’s precisely the problem.”

Inspector Feijoo did not seem pleased to see Julia. He received her in his office but neglected to invite her to sit down. He was obviously in a filthy mood and he came straight to the point.

“This is all a little irregular,” he said brusquely, “seeing that we’re dealing here with someone supposedly responsible for two murders. But he insists that he will make no proper statement until he’s spoken to you. And his lawyer” – he paused, as if about to spit out exactly what he thought of lawyers – “agrees.”

“How did you find him?”

“It wasn’t difficult. Last night we issued his description to everyone, including border crossings and airports. He was identified this morning at passport control in Barajas airport as he was about to board a flight to Lisbon with a false passport. He didn’t put up any resistance.”

“Has he told you where the painting is?”

“He hasn’t said anything at all.” Feijoo raised one plump, stubby finger. “Oh, except that he’s innocent. But that’s a phrase we often hear; it’s pretty much par for the course. But when I showed him the statements the taxi driver and the porter had made, he crumpled, and just kept asking for a lawyer. And that was when he demanded to see you.”

He accompanied her out of the office and along the corridor to a door where a uniformed policeman was standing guard.

“I’ll be here if you need me. He insisted on seeing you alone.”

They locked the door behind her. Max was sitting on one of the chairs placed on either side of a wooden table in the middle of a windowless room with dirty padded walls. It was completely bare of any other furniture. Max was wearing a rumpled sweater over an open-necked shirt, and his hair, no longer caught back in a ponytail, was dishevelled, a few locks hung loose over his eyes. His hands, resting on the table, were handcuffed.

“Hello, Max.”

He looked up and stared at her. He had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and he seemed uncertain, as if he had reached the end of a long, vain enterprise.

“At last, a friendly face,” he said with heavy irony, and indicated the other chair.

Julia offered him a cigarette, which he lit avidly, moving his face close to the lighter she held out.

“Why did you want to see me, Max?”

His breathing was fast and shallow. He was no longer a handsome wolf, but a rabbit cornered in its burrow, listening to the sound of the ferret getting nearer and nearer. Julia wondered if the police had beaten him, but he didn’t seem to have any bruises. They don’t beat people up any more, she said to herself. Not any more.

“I wanted to warn you,” he said.

“Warn me?”

“She was already dead, Julia,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t do it. When I got to your apartment, she was already dead.”

“How did you get in? Did she open the door?”

“I’ve told you; she was already dead… the second time.”

“The second time? You mean there was a first?”

Max leaned his elbows on the table, resting his unshaven chin on his thumbs, and let the ash fall from his cigarette.

“Hang on,” he said with infinite weariness. “It’s best if I start at the beginning.” He raised the cigarette to his lips again, half-closing his eyes against the smoke. “You know how badly Menchu took that business with Montegrifo. She was pacing round her house like a caged animal, muttering all kinds of insults and threats. ”They’ve robbed me!“ she kept shouting. I managed to calm her down, and we talked it over. The idea was mine.”

“What idea?”

“I have contacts with people who can get almost anything out of the country. I suggested that we steal the Van Huys. At first she went crazy, hurling abuse at me and talking about your friendship. Then she saw that it wouldn’t actually hurt you. Your responsibility was covered by the insurance, and as for your share of the profits… well, we’d find a way of compensating you later on.”

“I always knew you were a son of a bitch, Max.”

“Maybe I am, but that’s beside the point. The important thing is that Menchu agreed to my plan. She had to get you to take her home with you. Drunk or high on drugs… To be honest, I never thought she’d do it as well as she did. The next morning, I was to phone and see if everything was ready. So that’s what I did, and I went over there. We wrapped up the painting to camouflage it and I took the keys Menchu gave me. I was to park the car in the street and come up again to pick up the Van Huys. The plan was that after I left with the painting, Menchu would stay behind to start the fire.”

“What fire?”

“In your apartment.” Max laughed mirthlessly. “That was part of the plan. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry!” Julia thumped the table in stunned indignation. “Good God, you have the nerve to tell me you’re sorry!” She looked at the walls and then at Max. “You must both have been completely mad to think up something like that.”