The Queen of the Northwest
Javier Montes Gómez
Translated by Ana Gomes
“The Queen of the Northwest”
Written By Javier Montes Gómez
Copyright © 2017 Javier Montes Gómez
All rights reserved
Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.
www.babelcube.com
Translated by Ana Gomes
“Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
FIRST PART. AUTUMN - WINTER 2003. | 1—The case of María Guzmán.
2—Who is the culprit?
3—Forgiveness.
4—The runaway
5—A place nowhere.
6—The visit.
SECOND PART. WINTER 2004. | 1—Lucia is Nuria.
2—Nicholas
3—Nuria.
4—Therapy.
5—I swear I didn’t know anything about your past.
6—Susana Seoane.
7—The wanted.
8—What an idea!
9—The first night.
THIRD PART. SUMMER 2004. | 1—The secret operation.
2—The road is running out of vegetation.
3—The silent watcher.
4—Real professionals.
5—Lucia, as a child.
6—Some of Mireia’s tales.
The Region, Sunday, January 5, 2003
The Region, Sunday, January 19, 2003
The Region, Sunday, January 26, 2003.
The Region, Sunday, February 6, 2003.
7 - The scene.
8—The Red Lord.
FOURTH PART. AUTUMN 2004. | 1—The face of the girl.
2—Behind bars.
3—The secret of Susana.
4—The interview.
5—Old friends.
6—Adjusting accounts.
7—Parallel Shadows.
Epilogue
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FIRST PART. AUTUMN - WINTER 2003.
1—The case of María Guzmán.
They found her in the gutter thrown like a dog after being hit, her body barely held itself in a little acrobatic stance to maintain balance, as her hips helped by the forearms carried most of the weight. The buttocks were separated, barely holding up on their heels. Through her nakedness were clear signs of bodily violence, small scratches on the skin as well as bruises near the top of her thighs, her skirt had been ripped out of rennet, just like her underwear. After a long search in a radius of two hundred meters traced around the scene of the crime: no trace of the mentioned garments was found. Her shaved sex despite her adolescent age showed us vaginal lips slightly bent outwards. That bastard or bastards had sneaked into the poor girl, not stopping to evaluate the effects and damage caused by his/their vandalism on the victim.
The young corporal of the Civil Guard, Nicolás Gallardo never imagined that such a barbarity could follow him to as a remote place as the surroundings of the school group of Montederramo was. Lately the violence was served to the letter through the cable television and was able to reach the most inconceivable corners of our planet. In a society that shrouds itself in its own beliefs and religions to provoke unpredictable wars, terrorist attacks and senseless homicides everything was possible.
Nicolás Gallardo stood at the edge of the road watching the young woman for a long time. It was still half an hour before the judge and the scientist's men arrived. Due to the absence, for vacation, of Sergeant Ramon Da Silva, and in the absence of another guard of greater rank, Nicholas was the highest responsible at the moment that all happened.
The body had been discovered by a classmate who, on the same route every day on the way to school, had given the notice to the Civil Guard at about nine o'clock in the morning. The poor girl hadn’t yet recovered from the scare. Nicolás sent her with her parents, stroking her cheek with a paternal gesture. He couldn’t suppress the irremediable desire to put as soon as possible behind bars, the bastard who had committed such atrocity, Nicholas also had been subjected to sexual abuses during his childhood. Now, looking at the corpse of that poor girl, it was as if all the ghosts of his past, buried some time ago, came out again to greet him in broad daylight. His heart was pounding, as if she were only keeping the vital signs down. He turned his gaze back to the victim, stood there like a mast in the mist, watching the nakedness of the girl in a panoramic version. The beauty of her curves was almost angelic, her breasts in spite of her adolescence were large, slightly slumped on either side; they gave her the appearance of a muse. There were also marks of bruises and wounds on them.
A new approach of anger and rage invaded Nicholas. If it weren’t for the violence of the situation, his libido, when contemplating the catatonic beauty of that young woman would have shot like a spring. He stood there, motionless, while the cold morning wind hit him in the face, his assistant Cadet Guillermo Troutia reached for a flashlight. Nicholas moved closer to the corpse to examine it more closely, her hair was dark. He turned on the flashlight, fixing its beam of light on the victim’s face, her full lips were filled with small cracks that gave them an extraordinary sensuality. If she could still speak, sweet words he would whisper in her ear. Her large eyes remained open under the eyelids, keeping the same look as if she was alive. They were lit, filled with a special glow, seemed to look directly at him; looking for him with grief. Nicholás tried to support her, as if he was communicating with the dead woman; after all, that dead one was his, it belonged to him. His first dead in two years of service. He lowered the flashlight to her neck, the killer's fingerprints remained there, stretched to the map of her throat. Death by suffocation, would pronounce hours later the coroner, hence the bruises and marks on the neck.
Collecting lost items at the place where a murder was committed is an arduous task, but it is always grateful, if the search also concludes with the delivery of the victim's complete documentation at the end of the shift. This one was recovered by the cadet Guillermo Troutia from a brown backpack, that was found among the weeds a few meters away from the scene of the crime.
NAME: MARÍA GUZMÁN PASCUAL
BORN IN MONTEDERRAMO, EL 8 - 6 - 1989 PROVINCE: ORENSE
ADDRESS: MAIN STREET, 2 LOCATION: MONTEDERRAMO
PROVINCE: ORENSE SON/DAUGHTER OF MARGARITA AND JUAN.
Fourteen years is a very early age to feed worms. In the end Nicolás was consoled to know that her parents had decided to incinerate the corpse. He was grateful for the rapid arrival of the scientist: tall, dark-haired, with a strong complexion, bright, calculating eyes under a curved forehead. Sergio Estevez proceeded to do his methodical work tracing footprints, collecting all kinds of clothing remains, which still remained from the dress chosen by Maria Guzmán Pascual to show off on that November 8, 2003. Shortly after, the judge on duty arrived to take a look, it was his lord Manuel Marquina, thirty-two years old, short hair, with a portentous and athletic physique accompanied by a privileged mind and a knowledge that he imposed. As soon as he finished his task he ordered the corpse to be covered with a blanket. That happened at 10:00 a.m. The body had been found at about 9:00. The scientist calculated that she would have been dead for three hours. Therefore, Maria had been raped and murdered at about 6:00 am, an hour too early to go to high school. Corporal Nicolas said farewell to Sergio Estevez and Manuel Marquina and went directly to the parents of the victim accompanied by his inseparable assistant cadet Guillermo Troutia in a Nissan Patrol, the only vehicle available from the barracks.
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The town dotted with alleys in its oldest area, has its charm disturbed by the general road that, turned into its main artery that divides the population in two. In the middle of which stands out for its imposing size, a gigantic monastery, pertaining to the order of San Benito and later to the one of Cister. During centuries it was considered one of the Galician monasteries of greater economic and social power.
In a small town like Montederramo, the news arrive before the Civil Guard. By the time they arrived at Maria Guzman's house, her mother Margarita Pascual was crying disconsolately. Her husband Juan Guzman tried to comfort her. Corporal Nicolás would have liked to wait for funerals to be put on hold in order to get an interview from the victim's parents, but the investigation in the absence of the coroner's opinion could not wait.
—Do you have any idea who it might have been? Asked the cadet, Guillermo Troutia, addressing the mother of the victim, without any tact or preamble. His superior thanked him for ridding him of such an arduous task.
—My girl —. The grieving mother was sobbing. —Who would it be? It was that son of a bitch she went out with, Abel Pinero, he killed her, my girl. I told her, I didn’t want her to go out with that junkie, but it was useless. The poor girl was stunned with him. We had punished her, so she left at dawn. The damned girl escaped through the window.
They accompanied Margarita Pascual to her daughter's room. Corporal Nicolás turned the handle and opened it: the classic youth bedroom. In the background was a window, under which a labyrinthine vine would have served Maria to descend, before jumping into the garden. Her mother seemed to speak the truth; but in a crime like that the parents never cease to be suspects until the true culprit is found. Although this hypothesis seemed distant at the moment. They said goodbye to them and headed for the outskirts of the village in the Nissan Patrol in search of Abel Piñeirt; they located him five minutes later in his father's mechanic's workshop, where he sometimes helped him, when he didn’t have to go to high school. After informing him of what had happened, they were surprised by his reaction.
Suddenly the young man, whom Margarita Pascual accused of the murder of her daughter, became pale as the glass of a light bulb. His legs trembled and his eyes burst into raindrops. A frightful cry came over his face, Corporal Nicholas had to hold him to prevent him from falling to the ground.
—It Can’t be! He exclaimed. We were still together yesterday, she had just returned from Viana to spend the weekend with her cousin and a friend.
—Yes, unfortunately it is true, —said guard Troutia.
—Is it true that you went out together? —His superior asked.
—I'm only six years older than her. I'm not doing anything wrong. In addition, our relationship never went beyond the purest formality. Is she really dead? —Abel asked.
—Yes, —replied Corporal Nicolas—. Do you know who could do something like that to your girlfriend?
—I don’t know. Everyone loved her, —Abel Piñeiro said sadly.
—Did you fight about anything last night? —Said the cadet, Guillermo Troutia.
—We never argued, I swear she's the best person in the world.
—All couples argue sometime.
—If so, in jest and foolishness but never for anything important.
—Then, —continued William, who had stolen the initiative from his superior,
—Can you tell us why Maria's mother accuses you of the crime? —For a moment Abel's voice was as though and he was meditating before answering.
—I barely know her parents. I think they didn’t like me, because I play bass in a rock band. I guess they didn’t see a good match for their daughter in me and I don’t blame them for it. But i would never move a finger against Maria.
—Do you have any idea who could do such a thing? —This time Corporal Nicolas imposed his gallons.
—Not the slightest idea. I swear I'm innocent.
—We'll see about that —added Nicholas—. He who has done this has left so many traces that even a blind dog would find him. Until we get the results of the scientific police, I'm sorry to inform you that you must accompany us. You are our only suspect and we can’t run the risk of you fleeing.
—I'll go with you, but if they killed her at about six in the morning, I was sleeping in my house at that time. At eight o'clock I go to work; I would have to be crazy to go there to see her in the middle of the night, kill her and return to the mechanic's workshop at dawn to work as if nothing happened.
—The world is full of madmen, —added Corporal Nicolas, handcuffing him, for the first time in his life, Abel Piñeiro felt the cold contact of the metal imprisoning his wrists.
Corporal Nicolas regretted having to arrest that poor boy, but in the absence of the results of the tests that would calm Maria’s parents and the half population of Montederramo who, at that time, was already demanding justice, in front of the town hall. In prison, he would surely be safer. They put him in the back of the Patrol and they went to the prison of Pereiro de Aguiar; although they had a cell in the barracks, they didn’t have enough personnel to look after him.
—Did you have friends in common? — Cape Nicholas questioned while Guillermo drove.
—No, I had only been dating her for two weeks. We hooked up on a Sunday afternoon at the disco, that day she was accompanied by her cousin Eliseus, he is a good friend of mine. He had introduced us two days earlier at his mother's hairdresser.
—I suppose you clicked from the beginning, —said Guillermo.
—Yes. That day she came before me at the hairdressers, she had to come from school. It was Friday afternoon, we almost met at the entrance, at that moment I was dazzled by her beauty, then I entered after her. Eliseus, who was sitting in the armchairs at the entrance, greeted me. That's when he introduced me, I stayed in one piece. My eyes took a few seconds to process so much beauty. From that moment, everything happened very quickly. I don’t know! There was a special chemistry between us.
—Do you take drugs? —Asked the corporal—. If you don’t want, you don’t have to answer. I remind you that you have the right to a lawyer.
—Every now and then I take some cocaine, you know to brighten up the night.
— And you drink alcohol?
—Johnny Walker with lemon, but only at the weekend and just like the coke, I take it in moderation. Only in small doses, to get a little dot. I'm not an addict if that's what you think?
—I don’t think anything. —Nicholás didn’t flinch—. A homicide has been committed. I am just trying to find the culprit.
—May that son of a bitch be locked up for good! —Said Abel.
The sinuous road descended among a leafy forest of oak, chestnut and yew trees; After describing several revolts and leaving behind several populations, we began to climb the slope that led to the penitentiary. The last leg of the tour was done in silence. At twelve they delivered the young man to the prison’s guards.
The next clue led them directly to the cousin of the victim, it seems that Eliseus and Abel were good friends, Abel called every day to keep him abreast of his conquests; in a short time he had become his only confidant. Eliseus worked as a primary teacher in the school group of Montederramo, so it was easy to locate him and make an appointment with him. The school group of modern construction, lacking the appeal of the architecture of the old schools, was a block building with several rectangular pavilions where the classrooms were distributed. They walked down a long corridor before finding his office, once they found it they slipped inside. Eliseus’ face lit up like a neon sign when he saw them. He invited them to take a seat. After the respective presentations, he simply told them all about his relationship with Maria Guzman, what Abel had already told them.
According to Eliseus on a Friday afternoon, Abel went to the hairdressing salon where, Maria occasionally worked with her mother, helping to cut hair. It was a few meters from the premises when the image of Maria Guzman was interposed in his field of vision. Her dark hair and t
hin figure of eternal teenager, her jeans tight to her youthful narrow waist; she made a great impression on him. She wore a red feather and disappeared from his sight with the rain guard through the door of the hairdressers. Then, she smiled at him as she walked in, as in a film from college, girl smiles at boy and boy falls in love with girl. But the girl had already gone to attend another customer while the boy sat, thinking to invite her to the next dance at high school. Why not? He also wants to be in love with the brunette girl, with brown eyes and face of an angel! Why would she not go to that damn dance? He wanted to feel her fingers soaping his head. The water was too hot but it felt god. Then there was the other, the funny scissors, a cut here, another here. Watch your ears! His hair was covered with woollen dreadlocks. They were flashier than those of Serena Williams. But he was focused on the brunette, with her good-looking face, her name was Maria, and she had beautiful eyes.
What time do you finish today? Why don’t we go to the dance? He thought about asking. But it was time to go back to school, the cut was already perfect. He later saw her in the schoolyard, she was with another guy; a mate from the last year, Abel thought they were not together or anything, just in case, he had to make sure before taking any false step. Later Eliseus told him they were just friends. How cool! She wasn’t going out with anyone!
She was alone, sitting among her books. She didn’t need those books, but him. Only him. So he threw himself and asked for it. Do you want to come with me to the dance? Maria accepted with a smile that hypnotized the soul. It was that simple. The dance would take place next Sunday at the Zeppelin nightclub. They said goodbye with a kiss. He attended that dance, of course, smelling of cheap cologne, in a suit set Roberto Verino, who fit him like Marlon Brando in "The Godfather." He was so attractive, that as soon as Maria Guzman saw him she had fallen madly in love with him. The evening was perfect despite the DJ's insistence on torturing them with the music of the devil.
Finally, overcome by monotony, they agreed to take a walk through the town. They walked hand in hand in a southwest direction through endless stretches of squared tiles that made up the sidewalks of the village, and ended up in a small park made up of a fountain decorated by a pair of dolphins sculpted in iron and three wooden benches, they took a seat on one of them.
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