Mystery in the Gothic Quarter

In the early hours of the day the first body was discovered, Tomàs Riquelme appeared to him again. Victor Balmoral had been keeping his prostate under control for some time now, thanks to medication: now he only required him to go to the urinal every night at two and five, always on time. On his second visit, when he left the bathroom, he found Tomàs comfortably ensconced in the living room, leafing through the dossier of a project Victor had completed days before.

"Interesting, isn't it? This woman, Finita Llorens de Carvajal: what a fascinating life," his old friend commented nonchalantly. "Through her personal and professional adventures, we can see an entire era of the city, with that effort to make its way and create a business based on social charm."

Tomàs had died fifteen years earlier, and Víctor missed him greatly. A painter and poet born in Lima to Spanish exiles, he arrived in Barcelona as a child with his mother, Joana, after the premature death of his father.

He was extroverted, outspoken, provocative, and shameless. He had been like a brother to him since their college days, when they met while studying History at the Autonomous University, and their dialectical sparring later on, especially in ideological debates: they met regularly and argued a lot.

His health was delicate, but his fondness for the rough life didn't help: acute pancreatitis took him before he turned fifty. Victor often remembered him with such intensity that, lately, Tomàs had appeared to him from time to time. Was it a ghost, a projection, an illusion? Balmoral didn't know, and he wasn't sure whether to be scared or delighted. Because of his pragmatic nature, because he missed their conversations so much, and because of the unpredictability of those visits, he had decided to appreciate them and take advantage of them.

"That text you're holding is the result of many hours of conversation and research. Don't mess it up," Victor said.

A cultural journalist for the newspaper La Voz de Barcelona, ​​Balmoral had launched a second line of work years earlier to supplement his meager income. The Biographical Research Unit he had created—a pompous title for a solo project—produced in-depth profiles of those who requested them, both for themselves and for others.

Víctor was a tenacious and determined biographer, and his works covered very different needs. The case of Finita Llorens de Carvajal was the simplest example: a grande dame from Barcelona, ​​now in her nineties, who had been a friend of his late mother and shared with her an early marital separation and a difficult career path in the masculinized world at the end of the Franco regime, had asked him to help her write her memoirs. They met a dozen times and had extensive conversations; Víctor had called a few acquaintances who gave him more information about his client, and ultimately he had no trouble tracing the career of the founder of the Miranda hostess (and hostess) agency, a supplier of young, well-dressed attendees to the city's major conferences and events, guaranteed to be reliable.

To establish herself professionally, Finita cultivated friendships with the great figures and leaders of Catalonia; in some cases, to a rather intimate level. To her surprise, the subject of her biographies insisted that the memoirs also reflect her romantic ups and downs. Víctor advised caution: although they would have restricted circulation, it wasn't out of the question that they might end up in the hands of some surviving love—now in her nineties—or one of her relatives. In the end, they opted to maintain the situations and shield the characters in the text behind non-committal initials.

⁄ Some guys in uncomfortable armor were placing boxes; others were arranging curtains

"However," Tomàs continued, "in this case there's little tension, and hardly any contradictions emerge. I liked the Casabona report much better."

The phantom friend referred to another, more complex investigation that Victor had previously undertaken, closer to what is known today in business terms as due diligence than to the biographical reminiscences of only relatively illustrious citizens like Finita.

The journalist had conducted a thorough investigation into the tycoon Alejandro Casabona when, after his death, the Barcelona Institute of Ethical Studies came across a legacy of several million euros intended to support initiatives aimed at improving the ethics of the business world. This legacy, in memory of a deceased aunt who had guided him early in life and whom the tycoon held dear, was doubtful. The director of the institution, Luisa Francàs, wondered whether the legatee had led a life upright enough to be able to accept her money without causing him image problems in the future. Through a series of personal testimonies, Balmoral was able to delve into a career rich in intense episodes and situations of questionable morality, and provided Francàs with the necessary information to make her final decision.

"Yes, the Casabona report gave me a lot of satisfaction... and some headaches. But what brings you here tonight?" Victor asked.

—I've noticed you've been agitated these past few weeks. I sense something strange is brewing. But I think it would be good for you to step out of the comfort zone you've been in these past few months and take on a stimulating challenge. By the way, comb your hair; you look like you're wearing a scrubber.

"Yes, the truth is that the routine is getting to me a bit," the journalist confessed.

—That's what your personality tends toward. And that's why you need external stimuli.

—That's very kind. And you? How's it going in the realm of the unliving?

—You know, time passes slowly. I miss painting; it's one of the things I can't do. It has too much of a material component, and in my current state, I can't get my hands dirty. But I follow beautiful women down the street. Goddesses. I watch them as they stroll, and that restores my faith in humanity.

⁄ At dawn on the day the first body was discovered, his friend Tomàs Riquelme appeared to him again

—You're the same sexist as always.

—Sexist? An admirer of beauty and a celebrator of human communication, unlike you, who's always been afraid of love and sex.

"You're upsetting me; please disappear," said Victor, and Tomàs vanished.

The journalist went back to bed, but couldn't sleep, and waited for dawn, reviewing the dossier on Finita Llorens de Carvajal that Tomàs had skimmed. Truly, every life is a box of surprises that its protagonist can't resist opening for others at some point, he reflected. Finita, who for her age maintained an enviable energy, wanted to present her book of memories with a grand social event, and Víctor Balmoral would be there to endorse the work done.

Around ten in the morning, the journalist began the walk to the Royal Academy of Letters. His life as a sixty-something bachelor would have been much more boring without his active membership in the city's various cultural associations, and the Gothic Quarter Academy was perhaps the one he cherished most. He was walking at a good pace: Dr. Garovin had assured him that if he walked an hour a day, he no longer needed to exercise to maintain a minimum level of physical fitness. Subsequent well-informed opinions drastically diminished Garovin's certainty, but Victor clung to it firmly: nothing bored him more than sports, but the older he got, the more people recommended he take them up.

It was a pleasant morning in that Barcelona autumn, now indistinguishable from spring, and the journalist was moving around in his usual comfortable attire, which allowed for few variations: a pale blue Oxford shirt (although occasionally it could be white or pink), beige chinos (although he accepted wearing green or blue ones), a dark sports jacket (he found the jacket essential because of its variety of pockets for storing all sorts of things), and flexible, close-fitting shoes that allowed him to take long walks without straining his limbs. He walked down Enric Granados Street to Plaza Catalunya, walked along La Rambla, dodging the tourist crowds, and turned onto Ferran Street. He headed down Hércules Street toward the Royal Institution.

This academy, the oldest of its kind in Spain, is dedicated to the cultivation of literature, humanism, and Catalan history. It has 36 full members, who are awarded the institution's historic collar at the induction ceremony. This constitutes a numerus clausus : a new member is not admitted until a vacancy occurs due to the death of another.

Victor had been proposed for his professional merits and because at that time the company did not have anyone from the world of communications, which had always had some representation there.

Upon arriving at the Requesens Palace, the Academy's headquarters, he found a bustle of activity in the cobbled courtyard of the beautiful building. The Medievalia company was preparing one of its dinner tournaments, one of the institution's most substantial sources of income. Men clad in uncomfortable armor—there was always a dress rehearsal for the joust in the morning—were setting up crates; others were arranging curtains; others were preparing sideboards with drinks.

⁄ The president of the Academy, Mariflor Juvellanchs, who resembled actress Naomi Watts, was a decisive teacher

Victor skirted the high tables and outdoor heaters and climbed the steps. The president, Mariflor Juvellanchs, had called the Academy's Board of Directors for an emergency meeting. Mariflor, in her splendid fifties, a woman of medium height and blonde, resembling the actress Naomi Watts, was a decisive university professor. She had taken over the institution when it was going through a rough patch after a couple of presidencies that had left it languishing, with a tired board of directors, and was devoting all her energy to strengthening and rejuvenating it. It was she who had brought Victor into the fold.

Sergio Vila-Sanjuán Mystery in the Gothic Quarter Planeta Publishing House 256 pages 20.90 euros On sale June 25

The plot An investigation by Victor Balmoral

Víctor Balmoral combines his journalistic work with biographical research. At his daughter's request, he searches for a hippie mother who disappeared more than thirty years ago. At the same time, he receives disturbing letters related to the Gothic Quarter, which lead him to the appearance of a corpse in an old palace and a bomb threat. He is sometimes accompanied by his friend Tomàs Riquelme, who passed away some time ago. Is it a ghost, an illusion, the projection of a longing? Moving between venerable institutions and the bustling editorial office; between exquisite private settings and those providing social assistance to the homeless in the old city, Víctor meets the nun Eva and her twin sister, the guide Eugenia; the property developer Severo Vitale; Canon Bentanachs; the gallery owner Omar Blancafort; and Mayor Berta Vives, an activist and book lover. And he confronts the mysteries of the Gothic Quarter as a way to better understand himself and the profound history of the city's heart.