Melchor is still in his office, simmering on the low flame of his own impatience waiting for the night shift to end, when the phone rings. It’s the duty officer at the front desk. Two dead at the Adell country house, he announces.
“The printing company Adells?” Melchor says.
“That’s right,” the officer says. “Do you know where they live?”
“Out on the Vilalba dels Arcs Road, no?”
“Exactly.”
“Have we got anyone there?”
“Ruiz and Mayol. They just phoned in.”
“I’m on my way.”
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