Name of the Dog

by Elmer Mendoza

  He was flat on his back, pale, no appetite, trembling. He had done his job beyond well, he felt satisfied, but he knew that was it for him. The General was a machine and he demanded the same of his team, but no way could he run around like that anymore, pain was a very effective messenger and all day and night he had felt death at hand. To die, to kill, to be dying, right then it was all the same to him. He reached for his medicine on top of the dresser and turned on the television with the remote. The morning news: Horrifying night, the on-screen journalist said gravely. Last night Mazatlán was bathed in blood, six bodies were found hanging from a bridge and more turned up in various parts of the city peppered with bullets, among them two minors; officials in the port admit they’ve never seen the city so red in December, despite the fact that it’s one of the traditional colours of Christmas. Ugarte flicked it off, who wants to know that? how could it possibly help me? He got out of bed, in pyjamas you could see how much weight he had lost; he took his pistol from the dresser top and put it away in a drawer. In the dust-covered kitchen he drank a can of orange juice, then dialled from the landline. How is the prettiest girl in Cuernavaca? Papa, where are you? my friends all want to meet you. In no man’s land, where else? Can you bring us shrimp? Of course, let me talk to your mother. She’s in Mexico City, she went yesterday afternoon to see her friends. For her traditional end-of-year supper? Yes, in English, I helped her wrap her present. Tell her I get in tonight. Don’t forget the shrimp. Bye. Bye-bye. Through the window he saw the street, his front garden full of weeds, the low rusty wrought-iron fence, not a single Christmas decoration. If the General wants to get rid of the Secretary or change anything else, he’ll have to do it without me.

  Then he went into the bathroom to throw up the juice.

  He looked in the mirror, thought hard and decided he’d had an unusual life, he’d done a good job at work, left few promises unkept; but when he tried to accept that he was ready to go, some deep-seated fear stopped him; he refused to admit that the end comes when your number is up. He contemplated his reflection for another moment and that was when he saw it: a shadow behind him, fleeting but unmistakable. Oh.

  Eighteen

  Dr Uriel Castro Arellano rushed out of his office across from the airport at the Bachigualato city limits. He was fleeing. A few minutes earlier, his assistant had received a call from someone who insisted he make a house call and threatened to come get her and the dentist and drag them both out by the balls if they refused. I do not have balls, sir. But he does and if he doesn’t pull my boss’s tooth, he’ll never hear the end of it in his entire fucking life. Arellano had heard about two murdered dentists and he did not want to become the third. The assistant, who ran out after him, wisely chose to go in the opposite direction; she found a taxi and took refuge at her house about twenty minutes away.

  In his haste, the dentist had not removed his white coat. He was striding along so frightened and wild-eyed he did not realise that Uncle Beto and a hired gun were waiting for him at the kerb about thirty metres away, next to a pickup with a door sporting a few visible punctures. A young woman wearing a tight skirt high above her strong thighs, who had an appointment in five minutes, was startled to see the man, usually so calm and respectful, so comfortable in his skin, evidently discombobulated. She pulled out her ear buds playing “My Name is Luka” by Luka Kovač. Eyeglasses are no mask for fear. The young woman, who was studying psychology and working on a thesis about the effects of violence, jumped to the worst conclusion and she was right. In a flash she spotted the gunslingers and decided to intervene. Hey, doctor, what are you doing out here? The appointment has been cancelled, Claudia, his voice came out in a plaintive whine, so unlike the usual suave resonance she found so reassuring when it hurt. Without a thought to the consequences she embraced him and tried to kiss him on the mouth; Arellano pushed her away. Please, don’t do that, what’s wrong with you? Let me, doctor, I know about the murdered dentists and behind me are two guys waiting for you, kiss me and look at them. But, but. The girl latched on to that dry bloodless mouth smelling of death. The dentist spied Uncle Beto stroking his chin and the hit man staring. He pissed himself. The girl leaned into the closest wall without interrupting her kiss. Grab my ass with all the lust you can muster, so they can’t see me using my cell, don’t let me go until they come for us. He hugged her timidly. Doctor, make sure they can see my underwear, do it or they’ll kill us both right now. He obeyed. The few passers-by slowed their pace, wowed by the girl’s behind and a nearly non-existent red thong. The killers approached, they could kidnap the two of them, who was going to stop them? Besides, every dentist needs an assistant.

  A patrol car, tooting a blast on its siren, pulled over. The couple stopped kissing, the smirking pedestrians dispersed, the policemen were staggered by the young woman’s beauty: Some bastards have more luck than they deserve, partner, don’t you agree? Uncle Beto took his crony’s arm and moved off. At that moment a green car driven by a woman with long curly hair pulled up. Claudia opened the back door, pushed the dentist in and got in after him. Mama, floor it, take the airport highway, there’ll be Federal Police there. What’s wrong, child, what’s wrong with the dentist? He doesn’t feel well. She saw the gunslingers getting into their pickup, but not pulling out behind them. Arellano began to sob. A moment later the women were sobbing too.

  Arellano, who hated all police, did not want to lodge a complaint. The girl had interviewed Captain Pineda a number of times; she called him, but he wasn’t interested. However, he promised he would take up the case if she would have supper with him. She liked her dentist, but not that much.

  Nineteen

  Zelda Toledo came in with her Diet Coke and a coffee for Lefty, who was flipping through the newspaper. Any important gossip? Look at this, a half-page photograph of the Urquídez–Abitia wedding. Don’t they look nice! her dress I like, her make-up is perfect, they’re your friends, right? Sure, Devil used to work with us. He looks happy, did you go to the wedding? For a little while. Because I can see you’re looking happy too, eh? The past few days I’ve slept well. I suppose you have. Is there something wrong, Agent Toledo? Nothing, boss, nothing at all, but you should know that in womanly matters, we women always see more than meets the eye, and of course in many other matters too. Lefty turned to the crime page: “Six Found Hanging from Bridge in Mazatlán”, above a photograph of the bodies swinging like piñatas from a pedestrian overpass. Will you look at that, boss, demons are on the loose in Mazatlán. Plus twenty-three shot and four Hummers set on fire. Noriega must be going nuts. I don’t think so, my buddy is probably just the way he always is, enjoying life with plenty of beer and aguachile; and for sure he knows who’s behind all this. The cartels, boss, who else? It could be they’re members of some religious sect and they all committed suicide. You don’t say. Angelita from the doorway: Good morning, Zelda, zero, no calls; boss, the commander wants to see you. We’ve run aground on Manzo, haven’t we? Oh, it’s not that, Zelda wants to know if anyone’s called you. Angelita! Me? what for? Then Zelda confessed: We only want to know who the lucky woman in your life might be. I forbid you to stick your noses into my affairs, who do you think you are? jeez, it’s hard to believe, have I ever disrespected you or got involved in your personal life? Pardon me, boss, I just wanted to . . . Well, don’t want to! He sauntered out toward Briseño’s office, he was smiling.

  The commander was eating wholewheat bread with his coffee. Chief, are you on a diet? Me? that would be the last mistake I’d make, man was born to eat, everything else is an accident. My, oh my, commander, you’re wearing your thinking cap today, aren’t you? congratulations. What I can’t see anywhere is yours, he threw a centimetre-thick folder at him; what did you do to Constantino Blake Hernández? take a look at the recommendations the National Human Rights Commission sent us. We interrogated him the usual way. Let your grandma believe that one, his brother is practically asking for my head, he complains about torture, discrimination and obstruction in c
alling his lawyer. Seriously? What’s wrong with you, Edgar? in every single case you stir up trouble; do your job by the book and save me the bother of scolding you as if you were a rookie. Chief, I’m not lying, we didn’t touch a hair on the guy’s head, even though he’s an arrogant sonofabitch and was sneering at us the whole time and treating us like we were idiots. Look at the pictures, you nearly killed him; no wonder Gori seemed so intense over there; give me the report on what happened and read that tome, I’ve got to send some sort of answer. Tell him his brother’s a jerk. The jerk is you, and it’s occurring to me that I should hold you responsible for what happened; you could spend a couple of years behind bars. Only a couple? if you come visit me, bring some of that bread, it looks delicious. By the way, what happened to Quiroz? because I haven’t seen him for the longest time. No idea, maybe he’s one of the journalists who passed on to a better life. Jesus, are you serious? We really don’t know, maybe the Martians took him. Well, I want a report on what you’ve got on Blake. What I told you: a dentist was murdered, Blake was or is the widow’s lover and he doesn’t want to say where he was the night of the crime. Name of the dentist? I already told you that too, Humberto Manzo Solís. For a minute there I thought it was the one I go to, who’s leading me down a bitter path. You weren’t so lucky; alright, I’ll look at this. And hurry up with the report, I need something so I can defend myself; listen, you look different, refreshed, like you’re at a good point in your life. Your diet’s gone to your head, chief, I’m the same. You even have more colour in your cheeks. He left without answering.

  Mendieta felt uneasy as he made his way back to his office and his mood dipped further when he looked at the pictures in the report from the National Human Rights Commission: various body parts bruised and swollen and three all bloody; what’s more, a vitriolic rant on the tortures inflicted by police outside the capital, especially in Culiacán, where the photographs were from, whose force stood out for its savagery and cruelty. The report demanded an explanation and recommended handing those implicated over to a federal authority to establish culpability. Wow. Agent Toledo, did they do something to Blake I don’t know about? How could you think that, boss, we didn’t touch him, not even with a rose petal, despite how unbearable he was. Well, we’re deep in shit, look at these pictures. Zelda contemplated them in silence; when she looked up, she said: The guy wants to screw us. Find Ortega, get him to figure out who these people in the pictures are; and tell Gori to meet us here this evening at seven.

  Mendieta called Jason but could not reach him, and Susana was out with friends. He went home and found Trudis cooking and singing: “Sometimes you remind me of someone . . .” I can hardly believe it, but I’m so happy you’re here. What happened? Well, practically nothing, young Jason wants to eat pescado zarandeado and I’m making it for him. Is he here? He went out to the Oxxo for some pop and the fish is turning out perfect, so don’t start telling me you’ve got an emergency, you’ll stay here to eat with your son and if you want to invite Susana go ahead and bring her over, there’s enough for everyone; listen to me, isn’t she the looker? wow, the years don’t go by for that woman, and what a body. I don’t know anything. Don’t play the dummy, the whole block is talking about how many nights in a row you two have gone out. Really? Do you think this is a rich neighbourhood where word doesn’t get around as soon as things happen? not here, no, señor, here everybody knows everything and, by the way, they say there’s a gringo driving around in a black pickup who won’t leave her in peace. Mendieta stiffened. That gringo, did he come with her from California? No, people are saying he turned up asking for Doña Mary and then for Susana, hasn’t she told you about it? Have you asked Jason? What are you thinking, not even if God willed it, what I want is for that boy to feel at home, I’m not going to start asking him about his mother. They heard the Jetta parking in the street behind the Toyota. As you can see, he’s not going to miss my zarandeado, I put in a bit of green mustard and all three onions, purple, white and yellow, plus green pepper and fresh celery; it’s coming out of the oven. Now I’m hungry.

  Lefty opened the door. Jason texted on his cell, put it away and stepped in carrying a supermarket bag. How was Altata? Great, it was Gustavo, my cousin who wants to kill himself, plus his girlfriend, another girl and me. He wants to kill himself? Yeah, but in his car, he drives like a maniac, that’s why I asked for yours; I think what he wants is to get his father’s attention. Who’s his father? My Uncle Domingo, he’s a colonel in the army, he’s never lived with Aunt Aracely, but he’s always supported them. O.K., so you enjoyed the beach. We had a good time: we ate, we went for a banana-boat ride and we swam a bit. As cold as it is? It was cool, but a lot of people were in the water; California’s where the water’s really cold, practically ice, and still people go in. The highway wasn’t too bad? More Hummers and Cheyennes than on a Los Angeles freeway at five in the afternoon. The bros love them. My cousin says they’re the narcos’ favourites. That’s true, and besides liking them they can afford them; so we’re going to eat zarandeado? Trudis is promising glory, listen I brought in the C.D.s I gave you, I see you haven’t listened to them. Remember, we traded cars, I haven’t had a chance. If you like, we can trade again, that Toyota is a dream. You stay in the Jetta and don’t knock it, it’s a piece of history. Of course I won’t, besides, the speakers are awesome, I can tell you listen to music all the time; which one should I put on? Mendieta glanced at the C.D. box, on the cover the thick letters that spelled out Dylan’s name were filled with pictures of him, Clapton, Wonder, Young, Harrison, Petty, McGuinn and two he couldn’t identify. Number two looks good. Jason worked the stereo under Lefty’s watchful gaze; the young man looked up: As you can see, I’m right-handed. How original. They smiled. Gentlemen, the fish is served.

  Basic ways to eat an oven-grilled zarandeado, which should be golden-brown and placed at the centre of the table:

  A. Put one serving on each diner’s plate and give them utensils.

  B. As tacos. Serve directly into corn tortillas and eat as is or with a bit of mayonnaise either dolloped on top or spread on the tortilla before putting in the fish.

  C. Serve with wholegrain bread, preferably a flatbread, so the full flavour of the fish comes through.

  Hot sauce to taste.

  They had tamarind juice from a bottle, but the dish goes well with any good-quality red wine, preferably a shiraz, or a good light beer.

  “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” with Neil Young on the stereo. The Santa Clauses were vibrating. From a short distance, Trudis observed them with a motherly smile. If I weren’t looking at how much you two look alike I wouldn’t believe it: like two drops of water. “The Seventh Cavalry Charge” broke in. Mendieta. Boss, Gori doesn’t want to see you, he’s really depressed. What? Yup, I’m at his house, he even wants to resign. Put him on. What’s up, my man Lefty? Nothing, my friend Gori, what about you, what fart are you holding back? Oh, I feel kind of ashamed, Zelda told me you want to see me, but I’m just not up to it. Are you sure? Absolutely sure. What about tomorrow? Tomorrow will be another day, my man Lefty. O.K., put Zelda back on. Go ahead, boss. This is the first I’ve ever heard of a badge in his specialty getting depressed. He looks sad and he hasn’t even showered. What do you think? Well, boss, I think we should leave him alone, maybe tomorrow he’ll feel better. Alright, tell him I’ll stop by for him tomorrow. Even though it’s Sunday? We can’t leave a key member of the team with his self-esteem on the floor until Monday.

  He told Jason about it.

  That Blake, is he a tall, strong, good-looking guy? You know him? He was at the restaurant in Altata boasting about how he gave a badge what was coming. Who was he telling? Gustavo, the owner and two friends, I understood he has a house there, do you want me to find it? No, we’ll see him on Monday, but you say he was bragging? The nicest thing he said was they couldn’t hold him and he was going to give them the fright of their lives. Trudis brought out dessert: ate de membrillo with cheese from Chihuahu
a and hot water for Nescafé. Jason kissed her on the cheek: you are the best cook in the world, Trudis. Oh, young Jason, you give me goosebumps. The boy’s cell rang. Yup, I’m with Edgar; O.K., he stood up; Mama isn’t feeling well, I’m going to Grandma’s house and I’ll let you know how she is. Wait, I just called her, your grandmother told me she was out with friends. She did? well, she hasn’t been out all day. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go with you. Jason thought about it. Wait here, I’ll call you. He tasted the dessert and raced out. Lefty turned to Trudis, his eyebrows raised. You’d better go, Lefty, after all, you’re already involved.

  In the air, Bob Dylan sang on: “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)”.

  Twenty

  Overcast. Mariana Kelly’s funeral, just like her wake and open-casket Mass, was private with no fanfare. Humaya Gardens at noon, the Valdés family mausoleum. Not even the kingpins were told to attend; travelling turned out to be complicated and better not to risk any surprises. Many were those who dreamed of catching them all in the same place. Mariana’s family understood and went along with the arrangements, since she was someone they saw little of and whose friends and lifestyle they did not share. But a goodbye is a goodbye.

  The funeral unfolded at its own unhurried pace. Flowers, embraces, prayers. Then a norteño band sang “Te Vas, Ángel Mío” and quickly departed.

  Garcés had people all over the cemetery and the family travelled relatively undisturbed in armoured cars.

  Devil Urquídez did not have time for his honeymoon; in fact he was not even thinking about it, busy as he was shooting his A.K.-47 all over the state and all through the day and night. People were being murdered in every part of the country except Mexico City, which they chose to respect. Samantha Valdés wanted to make sure that everyone who needed to understood just how upset she was and how ferocious she could be: Make it crystal clear to those bastards. Max Garcés looked into who might be behind the crime and got nowhere; he expected to be asked at any moment and he had to have an answer; after all he felt responsible, his security plan had failed, and had it ever.