It was one of those days where the sun seemed eternal, with that heat that hit softly and the chirping of crickets as a musical background. We had just finished eating, the whole gang was together: Mireia, Vicent, Isa, Jordi, Yoyo, Juan, Rosa Mari, Ramón, Esther, Ibán and Ingrid (from Andorra), Blind Ramón and Clara. A meal in tribute to friendship, to those moments that taste like summer and laughter. The outcome of the search by the Mossos in MasTorrencito
The meal had been one to remember: homemade dishes, wine running like there was no tomorrow, and a dessert that no one wanted to finish. Between jokes, bad jokes and some anecdotes that made us laugh, the time flew by. When we got up, some were more impaired than others. The effects of the wine could be seen in the staggering steps of more than one, although all in good humor.
After five o’clock, we were on our way back to the house. We were a lively group, chatting along the dusty road, in no hurry other than to get there and continue enjoying the afternoon. But as we rounded a bend, we suddenly came across something we hadn’t expected.
Blue lights. The outcome of the Mossos’ search in MasTorrencito
Intense lights, flashing incessantly. Police cars blocked access to the house, and a dozen armed men in bulletproof vests and Mossos d’Esquadra uniforms were stationed as if waiting for someone. Immediately, the hubbub of the group died down.
“Mother of mine, this looks like a movie,” Mireia whispered, while Jordi clung to her as if the lights were already interrogating him.
Those who came in more sparkling from the wine seemed to have been cured on the spot. Their faces had gone from smiling to sober, almost pale. I, without understanding anything, advanced a couple of steps, while my friends whispered behind me.
-Good afternoon... What’s up? -I asked, looking at the nearest agent.
A tall man, with an imposing bearing and serious gesture, advanced towards me. Without introducing himself, he blurted out:
-Are youMiguel Chordi?
– Yes, it’s me. Is there a problem?
-Show meyour documentation.
The question left me cold. There was something odd in his tone, something that didn’t add up.
– – Documentation? What for? What is going on?
-Doas I say. -The tone was authoritative, not argumentative.
I put my hands in my pockets and tried to stay calm.
–Well, I don’t have any documentation on me. It’s in the house.
-Thengo get it.
That’s when I started to notice that something wasn’t right. I crossed my arms and pointed to the cars blocking the road.
–And how do you want me to pass? Do the cars move me out of the way?
The agent frowned.
-Doeshe need to go by car?
–Of course. It’s my house. I want to park in front of it, or is that a problem now too?
The chief turned his head towards the other agents, clearly uncomfortable with my questions. Finally, with an impatient gesture, he answered:
-Well, we’ll walk him to the house.
-That’s not going to happen.
Silence fell over the group. Even my friends, who were still watching in the distance, stopped murmuring.
-Excuse me? -said the boss.
– No. Do you have a court order?
-How’s that?
-Do you havea warrant to enter my property?
The agent hesitated for a second, as if the question had thrown him off.
-Well… no.
–Then they don’t come in. Neither with me nor without me. Wait here while I go down and get the documents. And while I’m at it, I’ll call my lawyer.
The murmurs among my neighbors began to rise. Some, like Rosa Mari, had already moved forward a little to hear better.
The chief, visibly annoyed, stepped forward.
–Hey, mister. You can’t go down there alone. You can’t tell anyone except your lawyer.
–What? What are you talking about? It’s my house.
-We havereason to believe that there may be fugitives from justice on your property.
The phrase stunned me. I looked at the agent, looking for any indication that this was a joke.
– Runaways? Where do you get that from?
Wereceived a tip-off.
-Atip-off? -I repeated, incredulously. What kind of tip-off? Because all we have here are people who came to eat. Or is it that the Mossos have started working with rumors?
The chief clenched his jaw.
-Sir, I repeat: you cannot enter the house unaccompanied.
-AndI repeat that you do not enter without a warrant.
With a brusque gesture, I took out my cell phone and dialed the number of Lluis, my lawyer. As the phone rang, the agents looked at each other, clearly tense.
– Lluis, I’m here with the Mossos. They want to enter my house without a warrant. What do I do?
On the other end of the line, Lluis’ calm voice answered:
–Do not let them in. Without a warrant they have no right. Wait for me, I’m on my way.
I hung up and looked the boss straight in the eye.
–My lawyer is on his way. And until he gets here, you’re not going through. Period.
The atmosphere was charged. My group of friends, the neighbors and the agents themselves formed a circle of tension that seemed to be about to explode. The word “snitch” kept echoing in my head. What were they talking about? What the hell did they think was in my house?
In the midst of the tension, another official car appeared on the road. It was a black vehicle, more discreet than the others, with its siren turned off, but it did not go unnoticed. From it stepped out a mosso with an air of superiority, carrying a piece of paper that seemed to be important. He approached the commander directly, handed him the document, and they both began to talk in low voices, glancing at me from time to time. I, meanwhile, kept my composure, but the situation was beginning to get more serious.
Finally, the head of the Mossos turned around and walked towards me with a firm step, extending the paper to me with a certain theatricality.
–Here’s the stupid order. Now open the door.
I looked him in the eye, trying to look calmer than I really was.
–Wait, I’ll read it. Is that okay? -I said, taking the paper as if I understood perfectly what it was all about.
I pursed my lips and began to read it, or at least pretend to. The truth is that I didn’t understand half of the legal language in there, but my intention was to buy time and look confident. My friends, who were behind me, were whispering among themselves, probably betting on how long it would take me to give in.
-I’m goingto call the lawyer.
The boss let out a dry, almost mocking laugh.
–What lawyer or what the fuck? Open the fucking door already!
I held his gaze for a second, but decided not to strain the rope any further. I shrugged my shoulders and walked to the car to find the remote. Pushing the button, the yellow sliding door, with its puppy dog tracks, began to open.
The reception of our children. The search of the Mossos in MasTorrencito.
The door opened slowly, with that metallic sound it always made, while everyone watched attentively. I don’t know if it was the tension of the moment or the feeling that something was about to happen, but it seemed like time was slowing down.
And then… they showed up.
First, Mastiff, with his imposing 80 kilos of pure muscle, came to the front with his usual protective air, but with a low bark that resounded like thunder. Then, Mamas, showing those teeth that seemed designed to intimidate even the bravest. Maky, as usual, out of control, circling endlessly, and Masto… well, Masto was carrying his favorite stone in his mouth, as if ready to engage in combat.
The barking of the dogs was immediate, loud and deafening, as if they wanted to make it clear that this territory was theirs. The Mossos d’Esquadra, who until that moment had maintained their firm and serious posture, began to back away instinctively. Their faces went from authority to surprise, and then to something very close to panic.
And as if the scene was not surreal enough, behind everyone appeared Doña Manuela. With her elegant gait, wagging her tail with a calmness that contrasted with the chaos her companions had unleashed. She seemed to say, “Calm down, humans. I have this under control.”
The barking continued, and I couldn’t help but laugh. If you had seen the faces of the Mossos… It was a sight to behold! Some of them were trying to keep their composure, but it was clear that they were not used to facing such a canine team.
The boss, who had been so bossy a moment ago, held up his hands as if in an attempt to calm the situation.
–Calm down! Calm down! Control the dogs.
-Control them? -I said with a lopsided smile. They’re in your house. You’re the one who insisted on coming in, aren’t you?
My friends, who until then had been holding back, burst out laughing. Rosa Mari even leaned on Isa to keep from falling, while Jordi muttered:
-Thisis better than Netflix.
Moms took a couple of steps forward, leaving the boss petrified, while Mastiff let out a growl so low you could feel it in your chest. It was then that I decided to intervene, but not before enjoying the show a little more.
–Come on, guys. That’s enough. Leave them alone.
At the sound of my voice, the dogs calmed down a bit, although Mastiff was still watching the agents as if assessing which one would be the first to try something.
–Well, you’ve seen that the only dangerous thing in my house are the dogs. Anything else, Mr. Agent?
The boss, still trying to regain his composure, nodded slowly, without taking his eyes off Doña Manuela, who now sat like a lady, observing the chaos with a bored air.
-We’ll doa quick check… and we’ll be on our way.
I smiled, satisfied.
–Sure, whatever you say. But watch out for Masto. If they try to take the stone away from him, he gets very territorial.
And so, as the Mossos entered the property with more fear than authority, the dogs kept watching them, making sure they knew who the real owners of the place were.
The Mossos d’Esquadra began to surround the farmhouse cautiously, while the chief gave quick orders to his team. The agents inspected windows, corners and nooks and crannies, looking at everything as if they expected to find hidden treasure. The dogs remained attentive, barking from time to time, reminding them that they were not welcome. Mastiff and Moms walked beside me as personal escorts, while Maky and Masto circled nervously, watching their every move.
As the agents began to inspect the main area, a man emerged from one of the rooms. Tall, with an imposing bearing and a face that seemed accustomed to giving orders, he approached the group. It was Jaume, one of the clients staying at Mas Torrencitto that week. Until that moment, we knew him as a friendly and reserved guest, but when I saw him standing in front of the head of the Mossos, I understood that there was something more to him.
-What’s going on here? -asked Jaume in a firm tone, crossing his arms.
The head of the Mossos looked at him, clearly surprised.
–Sir, this is an official operation. I ask you to stay out of it.
Jaume raised an eyebrow, pulled a card out of his pocket and held it in front of the agent.
–Officer? I’m Jaume Pons, deputy director general of the Mossos. Explain to me exactly what you are doing here, and do it quickly.
The silence was absolute. The agents, who until that moment had seemed so sure of themselves, exchanged nervous glances. Even the dogs stopped barking for a second, as if they too were waiting for a response.
Sir, this… this is an intervention due to a tip-off…” stammered the boss, clearly uncomfortable.
“A tip-offabout what? Jaume interrupted him, giving him a look that would have made anyone tremble.
-We havereceived a tip-off indicating that this property could be housing people who are fugitives from justice.
-Fugitivesfrom justice? -Jaume repeated, incredulous. What kind of operation are you carrying out without informing me? Because I have no record of this, let alone that they have properly applied for a warrant.
The chief hesitated, clearly cornered.
-Sir, we are acting on information…
-Informationor rumors? -Are you saying that this establishment, which I have personally checked, is harboring fugitives? It seems to me that you have a lot of explaining to do.
The agents began to back away slightly, not knowing how to react. Mastiff, as if sensing the tension, stepped forward slightly, letting out a low growl. The chief instinctively raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
-Thiswas a mistake, sir. He finally admitted.
–A mistake, yes. And a serious one. Now pick up your things and leave. This is private property and you have no right to continue here without further explanation.
The Mossos began to retreat with their ears down, muttering among themselves. The dogs, like proud guardians, escorted them to the door, barking occasionally as if to remind them that they were not welcome.
When they finally left, Jaume returned to the house, where I was waiting for him, still processing what had just happened.
–Jaume… What was all this? What exactly did they want? -I asked, still curious.
Jaume sighed and ran a hand through his hair, as if deciding where to start.
–It’s crazy. According to what I have been told, someone reported that some of the exiles in Brussels could be staying here. All because of a tip-off.
–Exiles? at Mas Torrencitto? -And who the hell made up something like that?
Jaume looked at me with a mixture of compassion and weariness.
–Supposedly, a neighbor. And seeing how they acted, it is clear that they did not investigate anything before coming.
Immediately, I knew who could be behind it.
-I’msure it was her. I muttered with a tone of resignation.
Jaume looked at me, curious.
-Who?
–Our dear neighbor. She is always looking for trouble. If it’s not because customers are coming in and out, it’s because the dogs are barking, or because she resents the simple fact that we exist.
Jaume nodded, understanding.
–It’s possible. People like that are always looking for ways to get even. But don’t worry, it’s not going to stay that way.
That night, as we shared a few glasses of wine, the tension finally dissipated. Laughing, my friends kept imitating the faces of the Mossos when they saw the dogs, and Jaume promised to make sure that this kind of situation would never happen again.
Mas Torrencitto had witnessed many stories, but this one would undoubtedly hold a special place in his memory.
That night, after the Mossos left with their official cars and wounded egos, calm gradually returned to Mas Torrencitto. The dogs, satisfied with their heroic performance, settled like kings in their favorite corners, while friends and I gathered on the terrace with a glass of wine in hand.
Jaume, now much more relaxed, began to laugh as we went over what had happened.
-Ifyou had seen the boss’s faces… it looked like Mastiff was going to eat him whole!
Mireia, with tears of laughter, added:
–And Masto with the stone in his mouth! As if he was ready to throw it at the first one who came near.
Jordi imitated the gesture of the head of the Mossos raising his hands, and Rosa Mari almost fell off her chair from laughing so hard. But my mind was still spinning about the tip-off.
-Jaume, what are you going to do with all this? -I asked him, trying to regain some seriousness.
Jaume smiled with a mischievous air.
–Well, I’ll make an official report… but before they pass it on to anyone, I’ll fill it in with the scared faces they had. That should be enough for them to learn not to get carried away with rumors.
We laughed again, but I couldn’t help mentioning our “dear” neighbor.
–I’m sure it was her. That woman never stops looking for trouble. I don’t know if it’s because she’s bothered by the noise, the customers, the dogs… or all together.
Mireia leaned forward, excited.
–What if we send her a gift? Something to make her think.
-Whatdo you propose? -asked Isa, intrigued.
Jordi, with a mischievous grin, intervened:
-Asign that says: ‘Thanks for your kind tip-off, the Mossos had a great time’!
The idea was too good to ignore. Between laughs and toasts, we decided that this would be our little revenge: a clear but funny message, so that she would understand that she was not going to spoil our day.
The next morning, Mastín, Mamás, Maky, and Masto seemed satisfied with their performance the night before. Doña Manuela, with her usual elegance, walked along the terrace as if supervising everything. The Mossos had not returned, and the farmhouse recovered its usual rhythm: happy customers, playful dogs, and an atmosphere where laughter always won.
Jaume, before leaving, shook my hand.
–Miguel, thanks for the wine and the hospitality. And don’t worry, the next time I come it will be to rest… not to clean up messes.
And with that, he became a guest again, leaving behind one of the most memorable stories we had ever experienced at Mas Torrencitto.
The neighbor? Well… she never stopped looking for trouble. But every time we drove by her house, we made sure to honk the horn…and Mastiff barked with a vengeance.
From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and that your dog accompanies you !!!!
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