Carlos sat up in bed, startled. The full moon’s light illuminated the entire bedroom, so he didn’t need to turn on the night lamp. With his heart pounding in his throat, he yanked open the wardrobe door. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The box he had stolen from Ted gaped empty on the bottom shelf of the closet.
“What the…?”
With trembling hands, he removed the lid of the transparent plastic container, as if hoping that from the outside, it only seemed empty. His aged, weary body collapsed helplessly to his knees, while his terrified, disappointed soul briefly escaped into nothingness. For the man who had lived through so much, the humiliating slap in the face—most likely dealt by his two young, strong Dutch neighbors—sent him to the ground.
“What the hell happened this time?” Bernard grumbled.
The loud banging from the French window in the living room startled the couple. Noud was quicker; without thinking, he rushed down the stairs.
“Carlos? Is something wrong?” he asked, concerned at the sight of the visibly distraught old man.
“Boys,” the elderly man panted, “I don’t mind a bit of give-and-take, but can we at least agree not to sneak into each other’s bedrooms, huh?”
“What are you talking about? Are you okay? Could it be that you just dreamed something? Hello?”
Noud snapped his fingers a few times in front of Carlos’s eyes, as if worried that his neighbor had lost his mind.
Carlos angrily swatted the hand away from his face.
“Screw you, Noud! You know exactly what I’m talking about!”
“Carlos?” Bernard appeared, his brow furrowed. “What’s going on here?”
“Kids,” the old man started again, his voice tense, “let’s sit down and clear some things up!”
“Are you out of your mind? At half past two in the morning?” Bernard snapped.
“If you break into my bedroom and rummage through my closet, then yes, I want to talk about it at half past two in the morning!”
“Carlos, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you’ve crossed a line. You can’t harass us just because you’ve got some age-related cognitive issues. Go see a specialist and get yourself checked, because this is not a joke anymore! Playing secret agent and talking to your watch doesn’t hurt anyone. I was furious about the bug you planted, but we tried to handle it discreetly. But barging in on us in the middle of the night and demanding some mafia-style negotiation? That makes my blood boil. Pull yourself together, go home, or I’ll call the ambulance and the police,” he snapped, then took a deep breath. “For real,” he added sarcastically.
“I hope, son, that when you’re old, you run into people just as shitty as you!”
“Carlos, wait,” Noud hurried after the storming-off man. “Just tell me clearly—what’s your problem?”
“My problem,” Carlos replied, somewhat calmer, “is that you don’t respect privacy.”
Noud raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay, I planted a bug in your living room. I’m no saint either. But I would never have set foot in your bedroom,” Carlos said indignantly.
“And?” Noud prompted.
“You were snooping around in the closet where, among other things, I keep my sex toys! What kind of perversion is that? Are you really interested in an old man’s private life?”
“Carlos… I swear to God, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really? Then how did the box with Ted’s notes disappear from there?” Carlos whispered, shaking with rage.
“Oh, come on, Carlos. Do you really expect me to believe that you snuck under Ted’s bed and took his files? Box and all? While he was sleeping? Don’t make me laugh.”
The old man couldn’t control himself. After everything he had been through over the years, he wouldn’t tolerate a young punk doubting his abilities.
“Then come with me!”
Noud stared, dumbfounded, at the empty box—the one he already knew well from their own security camera footage.
“I still can’t believe you actually stole it. How the hell did you pull it off?”
“I will never tell,” Carlos said, straightening up proudly.
The old man slowly regained his composure.
“Fine,” Noud conceded. “But what do you want from Ted?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”
“That’s a problem,” the Dutchman muttered, shaking his head.
“So, who should we start with?” María José asked with a girlish giggle.
Ludmilla pretended to think hard, then burst into laughter.
“Bernard and Noud! I want to know everything about them!”
“You’re not hoping for nude photos, you old hag, are you?”
“Oh, come on, as if you weren’t curious about them too!”
“Of course, I am,” María José laughed.
The elderly pastry chef gripped the thick plastic shopping bag between her ankles and pulled out a narrow paper folder.
“Let’s see those famous Ted-style notes!”