AFTER TEN MINUTES, THEY SAW the tallest treetops planted in rows in front of the fence surrounding the property. When they reached the last bend, they saw the sports car, with foreign plates, parked in front of the iron gate. A young woman, dressed in a knee-length black leather jacket, was peering into the property, gripping the fence bars with both hands. When she heard them approaching, she turned, startled, taking off her sunglasses to scan the people parking next to her car.
From what Gregory Evans could tell, she was a very attractive young woman, no more than twenty-five years old, with bright red hair cut in the old-fashioned punk style. The expression in her eyes was averse and arrogant. She exuded a strong personality.
Antonia was the first to get out of the car. Then her companions got out.
— Hello! — The cryptographer approached cautiously, raising her hand in a cool greeting. — Looking for someone? Umbert, perhaps?
The young woman watched them with a look that was too haughty for her age.
— May I ask who you are? — he asked in turn, with a German accent.
— My name is Nicolas, and I'm the lawyer for Mr. Monroe, the owner of the property — Colmenares replied, using his professional authority. — And you... can you tell us who you are and what you were looking at in there?
— Hey... look... — Sephy became defensive. — I'm not doing anything illegal, I'm just observing the garden. Besides, I have my own reasons for being here. Professional reasons.
— Excuse me... — interjected Gregory Evans, ever diplomatic. — What did you say your name was?
— Sephy.
— Look, Sephy… we don't want to upset you, much less pry into your personal affairs, but we need you to tell us the reason for your presence on the property or we'll draw our own conclusions.
The young woman rested her hands on her hips, giving a very sarcastic smile.
— I'll tell you... are you from the police by any chance?
— They might be interested to know that you were spying through the grate — Nicolas said again.
She didn't seem to care about the threat.
— Do what you want — he said dryly. — I intend to stay here until the owner of the house returns.
— According to what we've gathered, Umbert traveled to Barcelona a few days ago. I don't think he'll be back in the next few weeks.
Antonia's words had an effect. Sephy broke down upon hearing them, even the color of her cheeks, rosy only thanks to makeup, changed.
— Mein Gotti — she exclaimed, disenchanted, in her native language. — It can't be... not now! — She threw up her arms. — Not after I've found him!
She began to cry, inconsolably, to make her role seem as true as possible.
— Are you okay? — Gregory Evans approached her, surprised by her sudden change in attitude.
— Please! — she pleaded. — Do you know where I could find him in Barcelona? It's very important to me to get in touch with him. I've been looking for him for a long time.
Antonia felt sorry for the young woman, which is why she approached, putting her arms around her shoulders. She tried to convey confidence and complicity, given the fact that they were both women.
— It would be best if you told me the truth. If it's something intimate, you can tell me. I promise to help you in any way I can.
Sephy sighed, dejected. She watched them for a few seconds, one by one, in silence, trying her best to make her novelistic confession resonate deeply with them. It was about performing the final act. And she had to do it with determination.
— This man... Umbert Monroe... — he looked sadly at Antonia, as he spoke — ... is my father.
That was not precisely the answer everyone was expecting.
— When I was a child, my mother told me that my father had died, but I always knew she was hiding the truth from me... — Sephy improvised a convincing-sounding story. — I once heard her on the phone. She was arguing heatedly with a man... and the topic of conversation was me.
Sitting on the veranda of a bar in the center of Santomera, they listened attentively to the young woman's words.
— After that, she never spoke to me about him again — she continued. — In our house, there wasn't a single photograph attesting to his existence, not even a letter proving a relationship between them. I don't know where they met or what kind of feelings may have united them in the past. Whether it was unrequited love or a wild night of pleasure, it's something that remained between them. She didn't even acknowledge that he had abandoned us, and that means that perhaps it was my mother who decided to hide her pregnancy from him... — At that moment, she began to cry. — I just wanted to know the reasons. —
— It must have been very difficult for you. — Antonia placed her hand over Sephy's, a fraternal gesture that the German accepted with evident satisfaction.
— Yes, it was, for years — he took a deep breath and tried to compose himself, wiping his tears with a handkerchief.
Gregory Evans, who had been observing the young woman to see if he could find any physical resemblance to Geovanna — after all, they were cousins, according to the story — though without any results, decided to clarify the reason for her trip to Spain.
— So, if you didn't know him or have any idea where to find him... how come you were in front of his house?
— A few months ago, during the Christmas season, I received a very special gift: a letter from Spain. It was from my father. He told me we had to talk about many things, including the real reason he could never come to Germany to meet me... — For a moment, he closed his eyes. — The worst part came at the end of the letter, when he said he wanted to see me before he died. Apparently, he had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. He had only a year left to live.
As soon as she finished speaking, she began to cry again. They looked at each other. Evans felt betrayed by Monroe himself, who never once told them anything about it...at least not to him. If Geovanna had known about the illness, she would never have dared to tell him, perhaps out of respect for her uncle.
— I'm sorry, we didn't know that — he murmured, deeply moved. He wanted to let his friends know that he had just learned about the matter.
— As you can see, I don't plan on giving up, now that I'm so close... — his voice sounded broken and melancholic.
— You guys, his friends, should try to find him in Barcelona. I suppose there must be some way to contact him. I don't know how! Maybe I can find an address or a phone number...
Antonia sighed, unsure of what to say. The lawyer realized they had taken their act too far and that admitting their mistake now would be very embarrassing.
Gregory Evans also realized they couldn't continue lying. They weren't close friends of the architect, nor was Colmenares his legal representative, as he had told the young woman. They were, like her, three strangers trying to locate him, still unsure how, before he finally gave his soul to God. To his greatest sadness, Monroe now had two enemies to fight.
— So... — Sephy stammered, — you don't intend to help me? — The performance was so realistic that she even believed in her own pain. Antonia, as a woman, felt sorry for her again.
— The truth is, we're looking for him too — he acknowledged with a gesture of honesty. — The only information we have is what we've told you.
— There's something, however, you haven't told me yet... the reason you're looking for him. — He changed his attitude, demonstrating a certain distrust of his interlocutors. — I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone knows where he is. My only recourse is to go to the police.