Chapter Thirteen
 

 "Oh do stop jabbering Mother and tell me what the matter is?" said Elvira as her Mother went into another outburst of incoherent speech:

"Aliens... It was aliens, I tell you.  Oh those horrible black heads and bright red hands..."

 "What is she going on about," Raimon said, coming in, after having parked the car.

 "I was in my room.  I came out.  I saw them flying down the stairs.  They've taken Mephistopholes!" sobbed the old lady.

 "Who have dear?"  Raimon asked, mouthing the question to her, so that she could read his lips.

 "The aliens!"

 "I'll get her pills,"  Elvira said.  "Maybe we should give her a double dose."

 Elvira crossed into the living room and took her mother's tranquillizers off the shelf.  Then she raced into the kitchen for a glass of water.  Raimon, meanwhile, was trying to calm the old woman down.  Suddenly there was a terrifying shriek from the kitchen:

 "Ah!  It's burglars!"

 Raimon dropped his mother-in-law onto the carpet and ran to his wife's aid.  He found her, tongue tied, pointing at the open window.  Raimon saw a black object on the window ledge and picked up the plunger.  The glass circle it had been holding fell to the ground and shattered all over the tiles.

 "Phone the police!" he said.  "I'll see if I can find out what is missing."

 Raimon ran past his mother-in-law, who had been unable to get herself up off the hall carpet, and made a lightning tour of the ground floor.  The Videos were still there, so were the portable televisions in the kitchen and study.  His cameras were still in their case and his portable computer was still on his desk.  Then he remembered that the old lady had said she had seen the intruders upstairs.  He met his wife in the hall helping her mother to her feet:

 "Nothing missing down here as far as I can see, and you?"

 "No, nothing.  Maybe Mother disturbed them in the act."

 "Well good for you dear!" he said, patting the old lady on the head.

 "Have you phoned the law?" he then asked his wife.

 "They're on their way."

 "Well you stay with your Mother and I'll see what the damage is upstairs."

 He charged up to the first floor and went straight to the spare room where he found the Dalí prints still in their frames.  Next he checked his wife's jewellery case in their bedroom.  Nothing seemed to be missing.  He was puzzled and allowed his eyes to roam about the room.  The open wardrobe door and the chair beside it suddenly rang alarm bells.  He dashed over and rummaged about among the sweaters frantically.  With a cry of rage he sprinted down to his wife and said, between pants:

 "Quick, ring the police, tell them it was a false alarm!"

 "What?"

 "The only thing missing is the file!"

 "What file?  Oh no, you don't mean the file, do you."

Raimon, speechless, could only nod.  Then he found his voice again:

 "We can't have the police involved.  Ring them at once!"

 The doorbell chimed.

 "Too late my dear, now just stay calm and tell them nothing has been stolen!"

 Sergeant Fernandez of the Guardia Civil had been reading one of his favourite detective novels for the seventh time when the call had come.  Now he set about his investigation with vigour.

 "A professional job this sir," he told Raimon.  "Look, no prints around the window and those on the instrument of entry are your own, are they not?"

 "On the what?"

 "The plunger," Fernandez replied with scorn.  "Now you are quite sure nothing has been taken?"

 "Yes, absolutely positive.  My mother-in-law must have disturbed them before they managed to get their hands on anything."

 Fernandez turned to Gonzalez, his underling, and said:

 "Juanco, go and see if you can find any footprints outside this window."

 Gonzalez left and returned soon after, telling them of his findings:

 "At least two sets of prints.  Look like training shoes.  Small blokes, they were; or else young adolescents."

 "Drugs at the bottom of all this, I shouldn't wonder," said Raimon.

 "I don't think so," the sergeant said, thinking aloud.  "You see, whoever came in that window could not fail to see this high quality portable T.V and video here.  He would have passed those out to his waiting accomplices, before venturing further into the house.  Now, I think I better have a word with the lady who saw the burglars."

 "Ah, well that's going to be difficult sergeant," Raimon asserted.  "You see she's not really all there and besides, she's deaf as a post."

 "Is she indeed," Fernandez said, stroking his chin.  "Now that is very interesting."
 
 

 Fernandez wrote another note and handed it to the old lady.

 "Mephistopholes!" she replied impatiently.

 Fernandez felt he was getting nowhere with the crazy old bird.  She still maintained that what she had seen had been aliens and now she was claiming the only other person in the house at the time had been a demon.

 "Mephistopholes is her cat," Elvira explained.

 "They took him with them!" the old lady insisted.

 "Was it a valuable animal; pedigree?"  Fernandez asked, images of a catnapping gang going through his mind.

 "Oh no it was just a scruffy old street tom," Raimon answered, terminating that line of investigation.

 "The witness claims she saw the interlopers upstairs,"  Fernandez said, taking yet more notes.  "So, er Senyor Villanova, would you mind accompanying me on a tour of that part of the building."
 

 "Are you sure that you left the wardrobe door open sir?"  Fernandez asked Raimon, who was hoping that the sergeant had not noticed how profusely he was sweating.

 "Oh quite sure, yes."

 "And what exactly is that chair doing there?  I suppose you put that there too?"

 "Yes.  I was looking for... For my squash racket."

 Fernandez raised an eyebrow.

 "You mean to tell me that you were all dressed up to go out to dinner and you climbed on a chair to see if you could find your squash racquet?" he asked, staring Raimon in the face.

 "Er, yes.  I was planning to play tomorrow morning and..."

 "Dust the wardrobe for prints Juanco," Fernandez ordered.

 Raimon was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable.
 
 

 "Well thank God they've gone!"  Raimon said with relief as he closed the front door.  "They made me feel like a criminal in my own home."

 "What was all that about withholding information," Elvira asked.

 "Oh, the usual idle threats.  He's been watching too many cop shows that policeman.  I'm not the burglar, am I?"

 Elvira tapped her finger against the side of her nose and said:

 "No, but who is?  Whoever it was knew exactly what they were looking for."

 "And exactly where to find it," Raimon added, incredulously.

 "Have you been putting the pressure on anyone lately?"  Elvira asked.

 "Not recently," Raimon replied.  "Not since the Sports Hall contract, in fact."

 "This smells rotten, my love.  I don't like it one bit!" said Elvira.  "But we'll just have to wait and see what comes of it.  Meanwhile, we should put something over the hole in the kitchen window, there's an awful draught coming in."
 
 

 "So what do you think sergeant," Gonzalez asked, as they got back into their patrol car.

 "Something fishy going on here," his superior replied.  "Something that I reckon deserves further investigation."
 Gonzalez put the car into first and they pulled away into the night.