It was the owner’s wife who had discovered him. She was a heavyset, elderly woman with a moustache and a foul temper. She had looked down at him, trussed up on the floor, and said, “¡Madre de Dios! Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Carrillo had turned on all his charm. “Thank heavens you’ve come, señorita.” He had never met anyone who was more obviously a señora. “I’ve been trying to get out of these straps so I could use your phone to call the police.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
He tried to struggle into a more comfortable position. “The explanation is simple, señorita. I am Friar Gonzales. I come from a monastery near Madrid. I was passing by your beautiful store when I saw two young men breaking into it. I felt it was my duty as a man of God to stop them. I followed them inside hoping to persuade them of the errors of their ways, but they overpowered me and tied me up. Now, if you would be good enough to untie me—”
“¡Mierda!”
He stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“Who are you?”
“I told you, I’m—”
“What you are is the worst liar I’ve ever heard.”
She walked over to the robes that the nuns had discarded.
“What are these?”
“Ah. Those, yes. The two young men were wearing them as disguises, you see, and—”
“There are four outfits here. You said there were two men.”
“Right. The other two joined them later, and—”
She walked over to the phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the police.”
“That’s not necessary, I assure you. As soon as you release me, I’m going right to the police station to make a full report.”
The woman looked down at him.
“Your robe is open, Friar.”
The police were even less sympathetic than the woman had been. Carrillo was being questioned by four members of the Guardia Civil. Their green uniforms and eighteenth-century black patent-leather hats were enough to inspire fear throughout Spain, and they certainly worked their magic on Carrillo.
“Are you aware that you answer to the exact description of a man who murdered a priest up north?”
Carrillo sighed. “I am not surprised. I have a twin brother, may heaven punish him. It is because of him that I joined the monastery. Our poor mother—”
“Spare us.”
A giant with a scarred face walked into the room.
“Good afternoon, Colonel Acoca.”
“Is this the man?”
“Yes, Colonel. Because of the nuns’ robes that we found with him in the store, we thought you might be interested in questioning him yourself.”
Colonel Ramón Acoca walked up to the hapless Carrillo. “Yes. I’m very interested.”
Carrillo gave the colonel his most ingratiating smile. “I’m glad you’re here, Colonel. I’m on a mission for my church, and it’s very important that I get to Barcelona as quickly as possible. As I tried to explain to these nice gentlemen, I am a victim of circumstances simply because I tried to be a good Samaritan.”
Colonel Acoca nodded pleasantly. “Since you are in a hurry, I will try not to waste your time.”
Carrillo beamed at him. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“I’m going to ask you a few simple questions. If you answer truthfully, everything will be fine. If you lie to me, it will be very painful for you.” He slipped something into his hand.
Carrillo said righteously, “Men of God do not he.”
“I’m very happy to hear that. Tell me about the four nuns.”
“I don’t know anything about four nu—”
The fist that hit him in the mouth had brass knuckles on it, and blood spurted across the room.
“My God! What are you doing?” Carrillo gasped.
Colonel Acoca repeated his question. “Tell me about the four nuns.”
“I don’t—”
The fist slammed into Carrillo’s mouth again, breaking teeth.
Carrillo was choking on his blood. “Don’t. I—”
“Tell me about the four nuns.” Acoca’s voice was soft and reasonable.
“I—” He saw the fist being raised. “Yes! I—I—” The words came tumbling out. “They were in Villacastín, running away from their convent. Please don’t hit me again.”
“Go on.”
“I—I told them I would help them. They needed to change clothes.”