Sun and Shadow by Åke Edwardson Page A

used his other to point to a door. It was closed, but the sign, white on blue, said: INTERPRETER’ S OFFICE.
    Winter sat down. After a few minutes the door opened and a couple who could well have been Swedes came out. The police officer beckoned to Winter.
    Inside was a woman at a desk. She was busy filling in a form, looked up and indicated to Winter that he should take a seat on the chair in front of her desk. She looked twenty-five, possibly thirty, years of age. Dark, close-cropped hair; but when she looked at him he noticed that her eyes were blue. She didn’t seem to be wearing any makeup. An attractive woman. Wearing a loose-fitting dress, and her skin tone was unusually light for a Spaniard.
    He told her briefly what had happened. She listened with interest, which surprised him.
    “Please fill in this form. I’ll be back in just a moment,” she said.
    She handed him a form headed “Diligencia ,” and he started filling in personal data and a summary of what had happened. He hesitated at the word “ Profesió ,” but decided to tell the truth.
    She came back and read quickly through the document.
    “Do you still have your passport?”
    “It looks like it. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to fill in the passport number, would I?” He’d sounded aggressive. He regretted his words. But she didn’t react at all.
    “So, you are a chief inspector?” He thought he could detect a trace of a smile, but couldn’t be certain.
    “Detective chief inspector,” he said.
    ‘Aren’t you a bit on the young side for that?“
    “You think so? I’m in my fifties.”
    “In that case you have lied about your age on this form.”
    “I was only joking.” Winter could feel something inside his head, a sudden weak rush of blood. She looked at him again. “You also seem to be on the young side for an ... interpreter,” he said. Oh, come on! I hope I’m not sitting here flirting.
    She smiled and stood up. She was tall, taller than he had expected.
    “I apologize for all the criminals we have here on the south coast.” She pointed at the door. “If you’d like to wait outside I’ll pass on this form to a police officer who’ll enter the information into the computer. You’ll be called in to him shortly.”
    “Is that everything?” Winter said.
    “I can’t think of anything else.”
    He stood up. There was a sign by the door with three names under a heading that presumably meant “Police Interpreters.” Two men’s names and a woman’s: Alicia. She noticed that he was scrutinizing the sign.
    “Yes, my name’s Alicia.”
    “Erik.”
    “I know,” she said with a smile, indicating the form she had in her hand.
    He waited outside. A constable emerged and ushered him into a room looking out over the main road. It was the man Winter had seen earlier that morning going into the bar, and later into the motorcycle showroom.
    “I apologize for the problems, Chief Inspector.”
    “It was my own fault.”
    The man said nothing. Perhaps he wondered how on earth I could have been such an idiot, something I was asking myself as well.
    “They are getting more and more bold.”
    “That’s the way it is.”
    “But we mustn’t give up, must we?”
    “Of course not.”
    “Where would the world be if the police were to give up?” wondered the officer, but Winter decided not to enter into that philosophical debate just now. The officer spoke excellent English. Their discussion could have been very involved. “When the police give up, the world is doomed.”
    “Do you need any more information?”
    “I beg your pardon? Er, no. I’ll just finish filling this in.”
    The man wrote in silence, much more slowly than he had spoken. He needed to concentrate hard. Winter had no intention of disturbing him. He might take it amiss.
    “There. It’s done. Could you sign here, please? Both copies.”
    Winter duly signed and got to his feet, one of the copies safely in his pocket.
    “Be careful out there, Chief