Blood Med (Max Cámara)
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Spain is corrupt and on the brink of collapse.The king is ill, banks are closing, hospitals are in chaos, homes are lost, demonstrators riot and rightwing thugs patrol the street. The tunnels beneath the streets are at once a refuge and a source of anger. And as the blood flows, Cámara roars in on his motorbike. He's is back in Valencia and in the old police headquarters the mood is tense as the chief hunts for cuts—who will go, Cámara or his friend Torres? The two men are flung into action investigating the suicide of an ex- bank clerk and the brutal murder of a young American woman. As the city erupts around them, their case takes them into the heart of the trouble.
swig from the flask of brandy and started going through Torres’s notes. His colleague had guessed correctly that Cámara would be popping in some time. And by sharing his findings he was doing his best to undermine Maldonado’s attempt to get the two detectives competing. Although much was at stake. For both of them. The first thing that Cámara read was that Diego Oliva was still alive and being treated at the hospital. According to the latest prognosis, the doctors were cautiously optimistic that
that she had some friends who were also blogging and doing news stuff like she was. There’s this English guy who’s got a rolling news site on Spain for expats.’ ‘What did he say?’ ‘I got in touch. Said I was a friend of Amy’s. They’ve all heard about the murder now and are shocked, of course, and it seems that some are starting to speculate.’ ‘Go on.’ ‘The husband was being questioned, so most people are accepting that he did it. None of these people seem to have known Amy personally, just
you.’ She cast her eyes to the ground, her face partially hidden from view as her hair fell across her face. ‘Can you tell me something, please?’ she said. ‘I want to know. Will you be honest with me? Was Diego murdered?’ Tears were falling from the end of her nose and making dark stains on the pavement below. ‘Yes,’ Cámara said. ‘I believe he was.’ Her nails dug into his skin where she held his hand. ‘I knew it wasn’t a suicide. Diego would never have done that.’ After a moment, the
your own what to do with them. If something unpleasant has happened to me and that’s the reason why you’re reading this, then you are probably very frightened right now and just want to burn or throw the documents away. PLEASE DON’T. Whatever you do, do not destroy what’s contained here. Everyone needs to know. If you can’t cope with doing something with the papers right now, then put them back in the safe and walk away. There may come another time when you feel strong enough to deal with this.
‘So today you came home for lunch.’ ‘Yes. Yes, I did. I wasn’t . . . We hadn’t . . . Nothing special. Perhaps just a plate of lentils, or a sandwich. Amy . . . Amy’s American, you see. They don’t eat much at lunchtime. In America.’ ‘How long have you been married to Amy?’ He looked up sharply with heavy, deep-set eyes. ‘A year. A year last month. She . . .’ He lost concentration, eyes rolling under their lids for a second before he dropped his head again. ‘Did anything happen this morning?’