All The Names - Jose Saramago

why was she unhappy, asked Senhor José, I don't know, she was sad even as a little girl, I used to ask her
what was wrong and she would always say the same thing, I'm fine, Mom, So the cause of the suicide
wasn't her divorce, On the contrary, the only time I saw my daughter happy was when she separated from
her husband, They didn't get on well, then, They didn't get on well or badly really, it was just a rather
average marriage, Who asked for the divorce, She did, Was there some concrete reason, Not that we
know of, no, it was as if they'd both reached the end of the road, What's he like, Fairly ordinary, a decent
man, he never gave us any reason for complaint, And he loved her, Yes, I think so, And what about her,
did she love him, Yes, she did, I believe, And despite that they weren't happy, They never were, How
strange, Life is strange, said the man. There was a silence, the woman got up and went out. Senhor José
stopped, he didn't know whether it would be better to wait for her to return or to continue the
conversation. He was afraid that the interruption might have set the interrogation on the wrong track, you
could almost feel the tension in the room. Senhor José wondered if the man's words, Life is strange, were
not an echo of his former relationship with the lady in the ground-floor apartment and if his wife's sudden
exit were not the reply of someone who, at that moment, could give no other. Senhor José picked up the
glass, drank a little water to gain time, then asked a random question, Did your daughter work, Yes, she
taught mathematics, Where, In the same school where she studied before going to university. Senhor José
again picked up the glass, almost dropping it in his haste, he stammered ridiculously, S-s-sorry, and
suddenly his voice failed him, while Senhor José drank, the man was looking at him with an expression of
scornful curiosity, it seemed to him that the Central Registry was pretty ill served by its staff, at least
judging by this example, there was no point turning up armed with a letter of authority like that and then
behaving like an imbecile. The woman came in at the point where her husband was asking ironically,
Would you like me to give you the name of the school, it might be of some use to you for the success of
your mission, That would be most kind of you. The man bent over the desk, wrote down the name and
address of the school on a piece of paper and handed it brusquely to Senhor José, but the man who was
sitting before him now was not the same man of a few moments ago, Senhor José had regained sufficent
control of himself to remember that he knew a secret about this family, an old secret that neither of them
could possibly imagine he knew. This thought lay behind his next question, Do you know if your daughter
kept a diary, I don't think so, at least we didn't find anything like that, said the mother, But there must be
papers, notes, jottings, there always are, if you could perhaps give me permission to glance over them, I
might find something of interest, We haven't removed anything from her apartment yet, said the father, and
I've no idea when we'll get around to it, Your daughter's apartment was rented, No, she owned it, I see.
There was a pause, Senhor José slowly unfolded the letter of authority, he looked at it from top to bottom
as if he were checking to see if there were any powers he had left undeployed, then he said, Would you
allow me to go to the apartment, in your presence, of course, No, the reply was sharp, cutting, My letter of
authority, began Senhor José, Your letter of authority will have to make do for now with the information
you've got, said the man, adding, We can, if you like, continue our conversation tomorrow at the Central
Registry, now, if you'll forgive me, I have other matters to resolve, There's no need to go to the Central
Registry, what you've told me about the situation before the suicide seems quite adequate, said Senhor
José, but I still have three questions to ask, Go on, How did your daughter die, She took an overdose of
sleeping tablets, Was she alone in the house, Yes, And have you already arranged for a gravestone, We're
dealing with that now, why do you ask, Oh nothing, just simple curiosity. Senhor José stood up. I'll show
you out, said the woman. When they reached the corridor, she raised a finger to her lips and indicated to
him to wait. She noiselessly removed a small bunch of keys from the drawer of a small table placed
against the wall. Then, as she was opening the door, she pressed them into Senhor José's hand. They're
hers, she whispered, one of these days I'll stop by the Central Registry to pick them up, and coming closer
still, almost in a whisper, she told him the address.