Then he fell silent, his expression grim. How did I end up in all this? First I was training to be a wrestler, I didn’t have the dough to buy the trunks, never mind a mask. That was when I met Lefty, we were just kids, and it didn’t take much to convince me to go into police work. In the beginning if the bad guys didn’t want to confess I broke their bones, then I learned where to hit and how hard. Everything was going great until I met up with this faggot, how many has he beaten up anyway? He did a number on Lefty too; poor boss, his chest is all bandaged, his face all puffy and one eye’s swollen shut. I don’t think I can beat that bro, he’s really quick and he knows how to punch and where; that is, unless I put a bullet in him.
Zelda turned on the stereo: Air Supply’s “Making Love Out of Nothing at All”. She saw Angelita closing her eyes; she pulled out on to the highway feeling she loved Rodo more every day. Fucking Rodo.
Twenty-Seven
They met in the bungalow in the garden at the mansion in Colinas de San Miguel, her father’s favourite spot for receiving visitors. Poinsettias and a few Christmas decorations in view. Dim lighting. César ran in to say goodbye: he was going to Altata with Minerva and three bodyguards. Don’t annoy your grandmother, eh? behave yourself. Mama, I love you so much, he kissed her and hurried out. Nine years old. He smelled of Fahrenheit for Men. Luigi was on the lawn, alert, eyes trained on the driveway gate: that was where his mistress would arrive, if she did. Without a word a young man served two whiskies on the rocks and left the bottle on the table. You look kind of beat-up, Lefty, what happened? Me, I slipped on a grape skin. Samantha Valdés shook her head as if to say, You’ll never learn. Well, first things first, she said; the detective waited uncomfortably, his mind a blank. Congratulations on Jason, we know he’s a good boy, no doubt he’ll go far. You know about him? He’s popular, a good student, a champion in the mile with a good shot at making the Olympics. What does this woman have in mind? They drank. The mother is lovely, isn’t she? and has she ever managed to keep her looks. She had a portrait painted that does the aging for her, do you really know about all that? This city is small and, like my mother says, we’re all neighbours. Several hired guns were posted at strategic spots around the discreetly lit garden; the dog sat unmoving. Second of all, and she rushed the words, her habitually severe expression softening, a wistful look in her eyes: They killed Mariana. The detective felt shocked, he guessed he must have widened his eyes because his bruise hurt. They killed her, Lefty Mendieta, in Mazatlán, Saturday before last; we were there, I left her alone in her room for a short while and when I went back she had a bullet-hole in her forehead. The detective filled his host’s glass and she tossed it back, he filled it again, as well as his own. That woman was a sweetheart, Lefty, she wanted to do good, she wanted to build a hospital for children with cancer and clinics in poor neighbourhoods. Silence for thinking about nothing. You lose a man and you get over it, you listen to sappy songs and that’s that, but when you lose a woman you lose part of yourself, a really big part, do you understand what I’m saying? Silence. Don’t think it’s a rib or a liver, like they say, it’s a slice of your heart or your soul, I don’t know. Were you at a hotel? The Estrella Reluciente, we were planning to spend a couple of days there, but as you can see God makes mistakes too; she drank; I want you to find the murderer and bring him to me. Samantha, I respect your grief and I agree what a good person Mariana was, but I’m not a private investigator, I’m a badge, and as you once told me one of the stupidest. You don’t think I know what you are or remember how hard I was on you? she drank again; I invited you once before to come closer to us and you said you’d think about it. Silence. I’m asking you as a personal favour, she stood up, peered out the window at the garden; she had a high regard for you, she told me so without any prompting, and I feel really awful, she turned to face the detective; there’s a huge hole at my side, Lefty Mendieta, and I don’t know how to fill it, I feel like shit, more dead than alive, worse than that poor animal you see over there. Lefty brought his glass to his lips, he did not want to get involved, but he felt touched. Samantha’s eyes, although dry, were shiny. Did you go for the weekend? More or less. The woman returned to her seat. I know you aren’t ambitious, that you aren’t very interested in money, however, I want you to know that you can ask for whatever you like, I’ll pay anything to get that bastard in my clutches, or that bitch, Samantha added firmly. Did you go to the police? No, and I stopped the hotel people from doing it. Is it you ordering these killings? Power feeds on blood, Lefty Mendieta, you understand, right? No, I don’t, and neither do I want you to explain. Silence. It’s fucking crushing me and I know my methods aren’t going to get me anywhere; so I need you, Mariana needs you, you bastard. Lefty closed his eyes and hurried his drink. How did you know about Jason? The girl he went to Altata with is the daughter of one of my men, at some point he mentioned you, she told her father and Chino told me. Mendieta looked at his hands. Have they rented out the room where Mariana died? Not yet, Max will give you the details. Get me a white van without tinted windows and money to take the technical team to Mazatlán. You’ve got it. One other thing: suspend the butchery. She looked at him: Do you really think we can do that? No, but it would help me understand the woman you’re missing, I always had the impression she was a pacifist. You’re an asshole. Thank you for the kind words about Jason, isn’t it risky to let your son go to Altata? You know it is, but I don’t want to deprive him of certain things; I hope I don’t come to regret it. And you hope darkness lends a hand. Precisely. How many days were you at the hotel? A few hours only, we went to a private meeting to reach agreement on staying out of the war, but as you can see they made me lose all interest in negotiating. I get that, do you suspect anyone? No-one in particular, it couldn’t be just anyone; I’ve thought and thought and come up with nothing; I know that hurting people is inevitable, lots of times you don’t even notice. What can you tell me about Eloy’s group? You’re starting off on the right foot, what I can’t understand is how they managed to get to her. Figuring that out will be our job. They shook hands. Do you think you’ll have something by Christmas? To be Santa Claus, all I need is the beard. And the belly, by the way I hope you enjoy your present, she signalled and Garcés stepped in. What are you talking about? She raised her hands to say it was nothing. Give him whatever he needs, and you, Lefty Mendieta, thank you for accepting. Garcés asked the detective to follow him.
The small office used by Ulises, the accountant. A cold, dark, belligerent stare: I’m listening. Mendieta repeated his requirements. Garcés handed him a wad of five-hundred-peso bills and another of fifty-dollar bills. If that doesn’t cover it, send one of the boys for more. What boys? The two I’m giving you for whatever you might need, one of them is a friend of yours. Devil Urquídez? That’s the one. Have him bring his wife along, I hope you don’t mind if I give them a few days for their honeymoon. Fine with me, just don’t be reckless; the other is Chopper Tarriba, he’s a good friend of Devil’s and you can trust him. Let them both know I’m the one giving the orders. Garcés smiled an ironic smile. By the way, we’re still paying for Mariana’s room and the one the señora used, that’s helpful, right? Well, I hope I’m not going to find your fingerprints anywhere compromising, do you know what weapon they used? We didn’t find any shell or casing, I hope you’ll have better luck. La Jefa mentioned a private meeting, I should know who was there. I’m not authorised to give you that information. Seriously? Ask her yourself, though I don’t think it will be much use, they were all very loyal people. The cemeteries are filled with loyal people; listen, she talked about a present, do you know anything about it? Ah, that’s about the gringo who beat you up. What about him? We put him down, and don’t worry about the body. Lefty touched his tender chest to keep from feeling guilty. What sort of van do you need? One that will hold five or six people comfortably and carry a couple of suitcases of equipment. In two hours we’ll drop it off at your house. If I’m not there, leave the key on the floor by th
e door; tell the boys we’ll be leaving tomorrow at seven, if they can’t make that, they can meet us at the hotel.
*
The power of the green bills had Ortega and two of his technicians inspecting every inch of the hotel room the following day. The detective, eyes wide open, went in and out of the room by the hallway door and the one that connected it to Samantha’s room. He paused in the middle of the small living area where the crime took place, let his gaze wander, went over to the window, inspected the mechanism for opening it; next door he did the same, they were identical. There were no telling odours. Zelda Toledo came in from interrogating the staff and scrutinised everything. They agreed that the window, which closed very securely, was a point to consider. Mendieta wrote that down in his notebook, and Zelda took photographs. Then they went into the garden, which extended to the golf course. They contemplated the facade of the building that contained the window in question: smooth surface, two floors above it and one below. The gunslinger keeping watch did not notice anything unusual or see anyone, Garcés had told him that, even so they would speak with him when they got back to Culiacán. Señor Mendieta, I’m here for whatever you might need, Chopper introduced himself, he was short, about twenty years old, eyes probing the depths. For now, just stay alert, did Devil carry out my orders? Like lightning. Good, keep watch, stand under that rubber tree, and if you see the murderer return to the scene of the crime, you will have achieved something unheard-of these days. The young man smiled and moved off. Zelda, do we have a list of the guests? We do: fifty-three rooms occupied by gringos and Canadians, plus twenty-two reserved on the same date by a Señor P.C., the only ones still here are a pair of elderly gringos. That P.C. and his people, how many nights did they stay? Not even one, the day of the murder they arrived after three in the afternoon and before ten that night they were gone; most of them stayed about five hours, at least that’s what the report says. Interesting, did he leave an address, telephone, email, anything to locate him? Nothing, all those things were left blank and the manager says he doesn’t know why, that’s how they gave it to him in reservations; the reservations people can’t say why those details were omitted. Anything but an impossible case, the detective reflected. How does Señor Pacific Cartel strike you? How brazen can you get?
Are the gringos in their room? We’ll have to see. Zelda looked at the list, went down six doors and knocked. A thin man about seventy-five years old answered. Buenos días. No Spanish. Zelda made signs for him to wait a moment. Boss, they don’t speak Spanish. What about Aramaic? They’re learning it now, what should we do? Mendieta thought a minute and dialled his house. Trudis, find Jason and ask him to call me. He’s here, Lefty, he came over for breakfast, where are you? In Mazatlán, put him on. Since your car is here I got frightened, is your chest still hurting? No, I’m fine, thank you. What’s up? Jason on the line. I’m in Mazatlán on a case, I’ve got two elderly white gringos who don’t speak Spanish, I want you to ask them these questions, he listed them. Got it, put them on.
A few moments later Jason told him she was deaf, that night they were settling in for the evening, they never heard any shots, they had no idea there was a body a few steps from their room, and the señora was watching a Frank Sinatra movie. They agreed to meet up that night.
O.K., let’s take a look at the roof. Hallway, elevator, a flight of stairs. It looked as though it had recently been waterproofed, and they found the remains of some takeout food. They paused by the cornice more or less above the window to Mariana’s room. Zelda, you’d better call Ortega, find the head of maintenance and ask him when they put on the waterproofing.
What is it I’m not seeing or feeling or smelling? He recalled a movie where the thief rappelled down into a museum on a very thin wire. Something like Tom Cruise in “Mission Impossible”, but that guy was crazy; I guess the one who did this little job is not exactly what you would call sane. Every homicide has a backstory wrapped around an enigma, what could it be in this case?
Now what do you want, cocksucker, aren’t you tired of fucking with me? The criminal might have rappelled down, I want you to see if there’s any sign of it and if that tells us anything. Great, now we’re going to catch Spider-Man? Ortega looked around, took some pictures of the surface and the cornice, which had a tiny groove on the edge that might have been made by a thin wire. It was hidden by the waterproofing, but Ortega was an old hand and he used his pocketknife to peel off the new black layer.
They waterproofed last Sunday, Zelda reported. So the footprints on the roof won’t be his, said Ortega, who was carefully inspecting the groove and now with his pocketknife was uncovering a six-centimetre hole drilled through the concrete. Look at this. The detectives came over. He could have threaded a very fine wire with a block on the end through here, then stepped off and lowered himself down, Mendieta concluded. Well, your brain’s working, isn’t it? your son must have lit a fire under you. Lefty leaned over to look at the wall below the point where the perforation lay: it lined up with the window. Zelda took his picture. Looks just like you; we’ll give you some elbow room, see what else you can find. Zelda, get the grounds staff and the gardeners together and ask if they found anything unusual; we’re looking for rock-climbing equipment and maybe clothing. You think he wore camouflage? No, I’m just guessing that might lead us somewhere. He might have made his escape wearing whatever he had on, but did he go down to the ground? back up the wall? Maybe he took the elevator. What colour is the wall? Brick, Ortega said. Boss, the colour of the staff uniform is reddish too, with the name of the hotel in black.
They say real life takes place somewhere else.
Twenty-Eight
Cuernavaca. Ugarte was sleeping fitfully in a comfortable bedroom with a large window that gave on to a garden of hedges, bougainvillea and assorted flowering plants. Several potted poinsettias underscored the red. His pain and pallor were extreme. No way could he put off telling his family any longer: I’m sorry. His wife María took it stoically, somehow she already knew, sharing her life with this mysterious man had prepared her for a moment such as this, but not Francelia, his daughter. She thought the world of her father, believed he had rendered invaluable service to his country and did not deserve to die so young; he hadn’t even celebrated his sixtieth, he’d postponed it to December and now he was claiming there were too many parties that month, better to do it in January; January? he might not be around to tell the story, to tell her his story, as he had promised, and nothing could be worse for her, since she was dreaming of following in his footsteps.
It was the girl who interrupted him. Pa, General Alvarado is on the line. He put aside the little Bible resting on his chest and took the portable telephone she held out.
James Taylor softly singing “You’ve Got a Friend”.
Three hours later he was facing the Secretary on the eighth floor of the Four Seasons in Mexico City, in the presidential suite. Man One, Man Two, Man Three stood at a prudent distance. Dark suits. On the wall, photographs of giraffes and elephants. The Secretary was drinking vodka and had him served a glass of beer, which he would not even taste. What’s the story with that meeting, Señor Ugarte, did they lose their minds? have you seen how the number of killings has gone through the roof? what really happened, did they decide to trash the whole country? because I didn’t learn nearly enough from your reports and neither did the President; the following day six bodies were found hanging from a bridge in Mazatlán, right where they met, why did you hide the fact that they agreed to attack? There was no such agreement, Señor Secretary, I told you exactly what they spoke about and I did not perceive in any of them a desire to escalate the violence or the confrontation with your side. Well, the President is not pleased with your work. Or with yours, right? That is none of your business, tell me again the names of the people present. All the members of the Pacific Cartel were represented: you know the names better than I. You listen to me, Ugarte! you fucked up, you shat all over this operation, it was a failure, and you ar
e to blame; I told the President as much, and your protector too. Ugarte stood up. Then we have nothing more to talk about, my duty was to tell you what was discussed, who attended and what it was I did; it is not my job to draw conclusions or decide on any plan of action; if the violence worsened you must know why, that’s the reason you were appointed. You aren’t going to tell me what my job is, you double-oh-shit. Nor are you going to humiliate me as if I were an imbecile and your little war was going just fine. Shut up and sit down. Man One and Man Two, brandishing automatic pistols in their right hands, seized him by the arms and pushed him into his chair. Who are you, Ugarte? that guy Alvarado sold us on you saying you were in the Special Service, but we couldn’t find your name anywhere in their records, is your name really Héctor Ugarte? The agent’s eyes were ablaze: As you ought to understand, I will not answer your question, you should know who lives in this country, if you don’t, I can’t fathom how you think you can keep it under control; and by the way what make-up do you use? because some of it is showing. The men smiled but did not budge from their positions on either side of the pallid agent, whose lips were trembling and who began to feel nausea and a terrible weakness overpowering his rage. The Secretary tossed back his drink. Man Three refilled his glass immediately. Why have you switched to vodka now? The Secretary smiled: That night in Mazatlán something happened that you should have seen coming. I managed to get what you sent me for and I got you my report on time. Yes, and you fled immediately. The same as everyone else. Did you not know they killed the señora’s girlfriend? He prudently took his time answering: Is that it? no, I did not know, and of course that has nothing to do with me, since it did not occur at the meeting. Well, that’s what set off this wave of violence. How brilliant of you. I want to know if you observed anything unusual, or saw anyone who would dare to provoke Samantha Valdés like that. My job was to attend the meeting, listen, report to you and disappear right away; I did not pay attention to anything else, and of course there was no hint of that. The Secretary downed his glass, then gave his interlocutor a scornful look: I don’t want to see you ever again in my life. Ugarte stood up, despite the pain, and walked out with difficulty; when he got out of the elevator he went to the bathroom and vomited; then, paler than ever, he let himself be led by a Yucatecan in a green guayabera, who took him to a car and drove him home to his house in the beautiful city of eternal spring.
Name of the Dog Page 11
