Off Side (13 page)

‘So what am I supposed to make of all that …?’

But by now Basté de Linyola was calling over the barman and pulling out his wallet to pay.

Fuster arrived before Camps, carrying a folder which constituted the entirety of his office premises. ‘You’re a disaster, Pepe, and one of these days you’re going to get a pasting from the tax people. Have you organized your second instalment? What are you waiting for? If you can’t afford it, go and take out a loan.’

Carvalho had read in the papers that the owner of a big construction firm in Barcelona was paying not much more than himself by way of taxes, and he interrogated Fuster as to the meaning of this mystery.

‘I don’t think you have much that you could set off against tax. The only things you could claim for would be the expenses you incur running after people. Not like a big businessman. He can even claim the paper he uses when he goes to the toilet between business appointments. Sign Biscuter onto the social security and set yourself up as a businessman. I’ve told you so a thousand times.’

‘Faced with a choice, I think I’d rather go to prison for non-payment than end up as a businessman.’

‘If you’re short of cash, why don’t you take out a loan?’

‘That’ll mean I end up with even less money. If you have to borrow money to pay your taxes, can you claim it off tax?’

‘You must be joking.’

‘What about my gun and ammunition? I’m a private detective, a servant of the law.’

‘You’re not a lot of use to the law, and you don’t use much ammunition either. How many bullets have you actually fired in
recent years?’

‘Two, in ten years.’

‘You won’t get much of a discount for that. Dinner’s smelling good.’

Fuster propelled his Cistercian presence into the kitchen, rubbing his hands as he went and smoothing down his white hair.

‘Who have you invited tonight?’

‘A young man from a good family who’s presently the PR man for the city’s principal football club. Camps O’Shea by name.’

‘Building contractors, importers of Swedish trucks, hotel interests in Ampuria Brava … Very rich …’

‘This one must be the son who had no head for business.’

‘People like that always have a head for business. One day they discover that there’s a market for ballpoints with invisible ink, or egg-timers with lunar sand, and they end up making pots of money like their fathers before them. Making money is inherited in the genes.’

‘He’s the restless sort. Intellectually restless.’

‘Very good, Pepe. It’ll do you good to mix with people who can more or less combat your tendency to barbarism.’

When Camps O’Shea arrived, he was evidently disposed to be amazed and enchanted by everything he saw.

‘What a marvellous place … Vallvidrera is enchanting … It’s a marvellous night … I hope you don’t mind — I’ve taken the liberty of bringing you this piece of ceramics by Noguerola, a wonderful ceramicist from La Bisbal.… What a marvellous house. So spontaneous and natural. Did you do the decor yourself?’

Carvalho had a hard time deciding whether this was sarcasm or flattery, because the house was a picture of orderly disorder. Everything in it bore the hallmark of decay, from the damp-stains on the ceilings to the signs of spilt drink discolouring on the upholstery.

‘It’s as if every single thing in this house wants to tell a story,’
Camps enthused as he fingered a tie which Carvalho had left hanging over a lamp bracket. He peered at it more closely. ‘Is this Gucci?’

At this moment Fuster emerged from the kitchen, and Carvalho did the introductions.

‘Are you one of the Fusters from Comalada, the ones who summer at Camprodón?’

‘No, I’m one of the Fusters from Villores, province of Castellón.’

Camps began to laugh.

‘I’m sorry, but some provincial names make me laugh. They all seem to have comic associations. Castellón, La Coruña, Puce-la … Spanish place names always seem to sound comic. Either comic or tragic. It’s the same in Italian. French and English place names, on the other hand, have a certain dignity.’

Fuster glared at Carvalho, silently demanding to know why he had been invited into this trap.

‘This is an enchanting house, Carvalho. You’re a very lucky man.’

They sat down to eat, and each mouthful was accompanied by one of the only two adjectives that Camps O’Shea seemed able to muster that night. He insisted on having the recipes spelt out in detail so that he could note them down carefully in an expensive pocket book with an expensive fountain pen. Carvalho was a great fan of fountain pens, and particularly this one, which looked like the mother and father of all fountain pens. Camps noted his interest, and passed it over.

‘Take a look. It’s the most classic of the Mont Blanc classics. I have to confess, I’m a bit of a fetishist when it comes to objects. One does not need to be very rich, but one ought to surround oneself with emblematic objects. For example, earlier on I thought that you had a Gucci tie there. You should buy yourself a Gucci every once in a while, because ties should be Gucci. It’s unthinkable that a tie should not be Gucci, or that a fountain pen should
not be Mont Blanc. Dupont is too common, and Watermans can’t touch Mont Blanc for style. The Mont Blanc has
substance
. I could make you a whole list of emblematic items that one should have about one’s person. Jeans should be authentic Levi’s; jumpers and sports jackets should be Armani; overcoats — cashmere, naturally — ought to be Zegna … yes, Zegna, even though they’re starting to go in for mass production. Zegna overcoats are particularly well made. They use the wool of twenty animals which are only to be found in the mountainous regions of Inner Mongolia. Admittedly, it’ll set you back two hundred thousand pesetas, but it’ll last you a lifetime. You should have two — one light brown and the other black, and you’ll have coats which are suitable for any occasion and which will last you a lifetime. As for personal accessories, a Vacheron Constantin watch, or maybe an IWC; a Burberry mac like Dustin Hoffman wears; Vuitton suitcases; Alvarez Gomez eau de cologne; Limoges porcelain, of course, because where else is real porcelain made? English shoes, and where possible made by Foster and Son; Chanel Number 5 for the lady — there’s no arguing with that; handbags by Loewe; silk scarves by Hermes; Dupont will do for lighters; a good Le Corbusier office chair, because you can’t beat them, particularly for style. Objects confirm an individual’s identity, and his social status. Look at this ring for example.’ He showed him the ring that he was wearing.

‘A Cartier triple ring. I presume you know the story of this fascinating ring.’

Unfortunately he didn’t.

‘It’s wonderful. This ring was designed in 1923 for Jean Cocteau. He wanted to give a present to three friends of his, and he asked Cartier’s advice — Louis Cartier, that is. They came up with this brilliant idea. How could it be otherwise, between two geniuses? They decided on a triple ring, as a symbol of the friendship between the three of them. Today this ring has become a classic and they sell more than thirty thousand a year. More than
thirty thousand, in fact. And my shoes are Foster and Son, as you will have guessed. They’re expensive, but I prefer to spend my money on things that ratify the reality which I have chosen to live.’

He showed them his shoes.

‘English shoes have been the best in the world ever since John Lobb laid the basis of modern shoe-making in the nineteenth century. These days a pair of Lobb shoes will set you back anything between a hundred thousand and a hundred and fifty thousand pesetas, although, if I’m to be honest, I think that’s rather excessive. Each shoe takes forty-five hours of work, and the people who wear them, or have worn them, include President Pompidou, the Shah of Iran, and Prince Charles of England.’

‘I thought Prince Charles was a socialist. Isn’t he always saying things like society should take better care of poor people?’

‘Ideas is one thing, shoes is another …’

Fuster almost choked on the spoonful of fried milk that he was about to swallow, but by now Camps was already absorbed in a careful transcription of the recipe which Carvalho was in the process of dictating.

‘For red peppers stuffed with seafood, first of all you need good red peppers. Good and fleshy, but not too large. One or two per person, depending on how big they are and how hungry you are. Grill the peppers carefully, so that when you peel them they don’t split. Then you have to prepare the stuffing. That takes prawns, clams and shellfish, cooked and combined with a thick bechamel made of equal parts of milk and the juice from boiling the prawn heads, seasoned with an aromatic pepper and tarragon. Use this stuffing to fill the peppers, then cover them with the bechamel, and put them to bake slowly in a moderate oven. The shoulder of lamb is more complicated. It’s from a medieval recipe collected by Eliane Thibaut i Comalade, who specializes in old Catalonian cookery. I don’t know if you’ll have enough ink in your Mont Blanc to write it all down. You need a boned shoulder
of lamb, well flattened. This is stuffed with minced lamb, pine kernels, raisins, garlic, parsley, bread soaked in almond milk, and salt. The other things you need for the stuffing are black pepper, cumin, fennel, chives, grated lemon skin, three eggs, a large onion, a piece of lard, olive oil, and thyme.’

‘Very medieval Mediterranean!’

‘True. Anyway, you mix the stuffing ingredients together, and put them in the centre of the meat. Then you roll it up, making sure that the stuffing is properly packed inside. Once that’s done, you truss the whole thing up with bacon rind so that it looks tidy, and be sure to trim any bits that are hanging out. It has to end up looking like a big
butifarron
. You brown this
butifarron
in a cast-iron casserole, with the oil good and hot. When it’s well browned, you add a quarter of a litre of water, pack cloves of garlic around it and leave it in the pot, on a low flame. It’s important to remember to turn it over every ten or fifteen minutes, and don’t let it overcook, because lamb tends to turn leathery when it’s overcooked. Once it’s cooked, you take it out, remove the bacon rind, and pack it tightly into the middle of a dish. You take the juice that’s left over, and add a bit more water, together with the mashed garlic cloves.’

‘And what about the sauce that goes with it?’

‘That’s the legendary
almedroch
, which you can find way back in the
Sent Sovi
, the bible of medieval Catalan cookery. The simplest version is made with garlic, oil and grated cheese, which you work in the same way as an
all-i-oli
, so that it ends up very thick. If you prefer, you can thin it with a little water and season it with spices to taste. Or if you want it thicker, you add the yoke of a boiled egg.’

‘That only leaves the fried milk.’

‘Camps, don’t tell me you don’t know how to make fried milk.’

‘It sounds so improbable, almost magical.’

‘If you say so. Anyway, you mix a hundred grammes of sugar with fifty grammes of wheat flour. Then you add four small cups
of milk, and you beat it all together, adding a knob of butter. You put the mixture onto a low flame, and beat it continuously until it thickens. Then you spread it on a platter and let it cool so that it sets. Then you cut it into squares, dust it in flour, fry it very lightly in very hot butter, and serve it powdered with sugar.’

Fuster’s yawns were becoming increasingly prolonged, due more to boredom than tiredness. Carvalho watched for the moment when he would begin his retreat. This Fuster achieved by wandering off into the kitchen, and Carvalho followed him to make sure there were no bad feelings.

‘Next time I expect a warning about the kind of beast I’m up against. He’s more than I can take. I presume your man already has an agent, so there’s not a lot of point in my staying.’

‘He gets on my nerves too, but you can go if you want. I only needed you to break the ice.’

‘Next time I’ll want danger money.’

However, when he went in to say goodbye to Camps he was all ‘marvellous’ and ‘enchanting’ and apologies, saying that he had to get up early the next morning. He solicited Camps’s opinion as to the best place to buy cutlery, since he was about to change his cleaning woman, his
menagerie
. This last word was uttered with the characteristically correct pronunciation of a man who was thoroughly Frenchified. Camps smiled receptively, and half closed his eyes as he scanned the pigeon-holes of his mind for the requisite information.

‘I would say that these days you’ll get the best cutlery from Duran the jewellers. They have provided cutlery for the Spanish royal family, for Franco, and for Gregorito Marañon, at whose table I have had the honour of eating, because he happened to be a business colleague of my uncle’s. Duran is also a marvellous craftsman when it comes to silver boats.’

‘Marvellous craftsman’ … ‘silver boats’ … Fuster muttered to himself as he withdrew. But in the alcoholic fog of Carvalho’s brain the words conjured up a fantastical, floating image of
something extraordinary.

‘The dinner was exquisite. What a shame your friend wasn’t able to stay longer. He didn’t seem very interested in autographs either.’

Camps O’Shea didn’t speak, so much as declaim. But the discipline of his good breeding proved unable to suppress his surprise at the extent of Carvalho’s culinary expertise.

‘Wonderfully harmonious. Everything related to the senses should follow the rules of harmony, except when it comes to excess.’

He examined the Vielle Fine de Bourgine, elaborated in the manner of Joseph Cartron, and asked for the technical specifications of the Nuit de Saint Georges brandy, which he found excellent. Carvalho was even less fond of literary
excursi
on the subject of the palate than he was of literature in general, and he limited himself to a few generalizations on the evolution of the French distilling industry since the ground-rules were first laid down at the end of the nineteenth century. Camps’s eyes betrayed a growing fascination at the extent of his host’s erudition, and you could almost hear the sound of his mental sphincters operating as his intellectual bowels loosened. He settled back in his chair and sighed.