'Lucia's parents.'

Falcón broke away from the group and asked to speak to the lawyer.

'I am Inspector Jefe Javier Falcón,' he said. 'Your client, Sr Rafael Vega, is lying on his kitchen floor incapacitated, possibly dead. We need to get into his house.'

A long silence while Vázquez digested this devastating news.

'I'll be there in ten minutes,' he said. 'I advise you not to try to break in, Inspector Jefe, because it will certainly take you much longer.'

Falcón looked up at the impregnable house. There were two security cameras on the corners. He found two more at the back of the building.

'It seems the Vegas were very security conscious,' he said, rejoining the group. 'Cameras. Bulletproof windows. Solid front door.'

'He's a wealthy man,' said Consuelo.

'And Lucia is… well, neurotic to say the least,' said Maddy Krugman.

'Did you know Sr Vega before you moved here, Sra Jiménez?' asked Falcón.

'Of course. He told me that the house I eventually bought was going to come up for sale before it appeared on the market.'

'Were you friends or business associates?'

'Both.'

'What's his business?'

'Construction,' said Madeleine. 'That's why the house is built like a fort.'

'He's a client of mine at the restaurant in El Porvenir, ' said Consuelo. 'But I also knew him through Raúl. They were in the same business, as you know. They joined forces once on some developments in Triana years ago.'

'Did you know him just as a neighbour, Sra Krugman?'

'My husband is an architect. He's working on some projects for Sr Vega.'

A large silver Mercedes pulled up outside the house. A short, stocky man in a white long-sleeve shirt, dark tie and grey trousers got out. He introduced himself as Carlos Vázquez and ran his fingers through his prematurely white hair. He handed the keys to Falcón, who opened the door with a single turn. It had not been double locked.