Esteban turned the document holder over, hummed thoughtfully for a moment, and then shared his conclusion.
“They’ve been taken abroad.”
“Excuse me?” Ludmilla squeaked.
“The good news is, they’ll probably come out of this unharmed.”
The German woman stared at him, puzzled.
“If I’m right, this is just about scaring them a little.”
“You figured all that out from one leather wallet?” Ludmilla asked in amazement.
Esteban appreciated the woman’s admiring words but tried to stay focused on the task at hand. With a single glance, he quickly scanned Ludmilla’s face—he wanted to see the excitement and wonder sparkling in her eyes.
“Look around carefully, please. See if you notice anything else missing. Every little detail could matter.”
Without hesitation, Ludmilla stepped toward the wardrobe.
“The most important thing right now,” the man said seriously, “is that we help in every possible way. But for that, we need information.”
“And what exactly should I be looking for?” Ludmilla asked eagerly. She had no idea what clothes her neighbor owned. She wouldn’t have noticed if anything was missing.
“Anything that suggests someone’s been rummaging through her things.”
The German woman nodded obediently and carefully scanned the shelves and drawers. At the same time, she was afraid of finding something that might shatter her admiration for María José.
She mostly just peeked everywhere—she had no intention of truly snooping.
“Nothing,” she said, spreading her arms when she was done.
“Are you sure?” Esteban asked, clearly disappointed.
He wanted to find his comrade and friend as soon as possible—and he wanted to impress Ludmilla in the process.
The woman also would have loved to be the one to stumble upon an important clue. She checked everything again, even peered into the laundry basket, hoping she hadn’t missed something.
But apart from the emptied document holder, they found nothing.
“We have to figure out where they’ve been taken. I want to bring my friend home,” he declared firmly.
“But… who would want to hurt them?” Ludmilla wrung her hands.
She had never truly worried about anyone in her life.
“I think it’s the Dutch.”
“Bernard and Noud? Those two pretty boys?” Ludmilla’s eyes widened. “What makes you think such nonsense? Those two care about nothing but matching outfits and perfectly styled hair.”
“Exactly,” Esteban said, jabbing the air with his finger. “That’s the whole point. They don’t raise suspicion. No one would suspect they have something to hide.”
“Hide what exactly?”
Ludmilla was beginning to doubt Esteban’s expertise. She could imagine plenty of things about the two muscular, handsome Dutchmen—but that they were seasoned criminals? That was hard to believe.
“Carlos underestimates them too, but I’m sure it’s no coincidence they moved into this complex shortly after Ted bought his house here. I’ve told Carlos several times that Ted isn’t just anyone. He’s changed his appearance a lot since he made the front page in some distant country—but his eyes give him away.”
“But if Ted’s the criminal, what do Bernard and Noud have to do with him?”
“They, my angel, are watching Ted.”
Ludmilla’s entire body flushed. Esteban, the fearless private investigator, had called her “my angel”!
No matter how hard she tried to focus solely on finding her friend, that tender nickname and the man’s closeness bulldozed the thick walls she had built around her heart.