Name of the Dog

by Elmer Mendoza

  To be what you are, that is the problem, he gave a Shakespearian sigh as they rode along Paseo de la Reforma, secure in the knowledge that his remaining days were dwindling and that for every action there is a reaction. He opened his eyes, and there it was again, more distinct than ever, the only one in no hurry. The avenue was all lit up, excessively so. Of course, December is a month of many parties.

  Twenty-Nine

  They gathered in one of the hotel’s small meeting rooms. Nothing out of the ordinary: name, occupation, where they had been between seven and nine the night of the crime; that is, until they came to Chickenmite, a thin man with a small moustache who could make the most inhospitable sandpit bloom: I remember that day, I was working on the rose beds in the back, and the key lady asked me for two dozen roses, the showiest, because they were for the private room where the heavyweights were going to meet. A meeting of heavyweights, where? Mendieta exchanged a glance with Zelda. You people are from the police, you can’t not know. When? Don’t play games with me, bossman; anyhow, I took the flowers in about seven-thirty, I had a Coke and I went back to get my things because that was the end of my shift, though I still pruned a couple of rose bushes, because it’s better to do that at night; then I heard a noise, something dropped into the dumpster near me, right up against the wall; I thought it came from the roof and I went over to take a look: it was a uniform all balled up. Same as yours? Same colour, but it seemed nicer; I looked up at the roof, but I didn’t see anyone. Do you still have it? No, I looked at it and left it, who knows where it would be now, they pick up the trash every day. Alright, señores, which of you threw a uniform off the roof? What uniform, since we only get one. And we knock off at seven, this guy sticks around longer because he’s into it, he even talks to the plants. They haven’t given me a uniform in two years. Five or six of them spoke up at the same time. O.K., all of you back to work, only Chickenmite stays behind. Badge buddy, put an end to the violence, I’ve had it with all this killing. Sure, that’s a promise, it’ll be your Christmas present. You’re too skinny to play Santa Claus, my badge-man, I think you’re spouting bullfeathers; the one who’s really something is your partner, you talk more like a politician than a policeman, and the politicians of course owe us big time.

  Let’s see, Chickenmite, did you see any shadows, hear any voices, did anything catch your attention? Nothing, everything was quiet, once in a while one of the bodyguards of the heavyweights would pass by, but nothing else. Could anyone have dropped the bundle out of a window? No, there are no windows there, they dropped it from the roof, there’s no other way. You touched the fabric and it seemed like good material. My ’ama was a seamstress, and as a kid I’d help her cut the fabric, and the soft ones are almost always finer than the rough ones. Right, did you smell it? What are you trying to say, I’m no stoner, I picked it up out of curiosity, to see if somebody was playing a practical joke. What sort of joke? Zelda was watching. Throwing away a guy’s uniform, tying the legs in knots, burning holes in it: the bros don’t hold back. What time would it have been? you’d already taken the flowers in. Eight o’clock, more or less. Who did you give the roses to? There were two guys standing guard, one of them took them. Have you ever been arrested? Never, I’m an honest man. Well, this might be your chance if you’re hiding anything or you’re lying. Uh-uh, don’t get your back up, badge-buddy, I’m being straight with you. Where do they take the trash? Twice a day a truck comes and they take it to the city dump. Merry Christmas, Chickenmite. Zelda jumped in: Did you see the colour and size of the uniform? Reddish like mine and a normal size, imagine a buddy who’s not short and not tall either, and it didn’t have any emblems like these, he pointed to the logo and the name of the hotel chain. Do you think he was fat? You think I looked that closely? nope.

  With Ortega, they went to take a look at the dumpster and it was big and wide; they stood where Chickenmite had been working, and sure enough it was impossible to see the rooftop. Then they went up and looked at it from above. Ortega dusted for prints, but everything had been waterproofed. We went over the meeting room and it’s totally enclosed, not a single window. O.K., Zelda, get the waterproofers to come over, let’s find out if they saw anything.

  They were two: an old man and a young fellow. There was gar-bage around, but nothing special. We’re looking for a thousand-peso bill, have you seen it? The old man said he hadn’t. Then it must have been you. Go ahead and frisk me. Oh, yeah? call Chopper in here, the detective asked his partner, then he turned back to the young man: He’s our best frisker, you won’t believe how he makes you remember things that never even happened. The workers looked at each other. Come on, Octopus, if you got something, tell them or they’re going to beat the shit out of you. The young guy looked at Lefty: Chief, I did see something, rather I took something; a pulley and a mechanism for going up and down with a little remote-control motor you can barely hear humming; it was down below, next to the wall, near the dumpster. Did you see it from the roof? Yes. Where is it now? At home.

  Chopper walked in. Go get Devil and take this kid to his house, he’s going to give you a mechanism for rappelling, make sure it’s all there. Minutes later Ortega came over: We’re done, all we need is the wire, even if it’s full of Jack the Ripper’s prints we might find something. Wait for me in the lobby. Lefty went down to Samantha and Mariana’s rooms. He went over them carefully once more, they had the usual furnishings and he discovered nothing. The stain on the pillow, no signs of violence. Suppose Samantha killed her? Impossible, I could see the heartache in her eyes; though I’d bet she’s incapable of suffering for the dead, at least her father’s death didn’t seem to affect her; what about Garcés? No, there are dogs that’ll die for their masters and he’s one of those. He went into the bathroom and again nothing: everything in its place. He went over to the window, confirmed that it was secure. If the murderer rapelled down here and found it open he would have had no problem getting in, especially if Mariana was in the shower; they found her in a bathrobe; suppose the window was closed? The mechanism looks solid. Those gringos are really old and they only go out to take a walk, at that time of day he would have been asleep and she was watching Frank Sinatra. Deaf as she is, she wouldn’t have heard a thing and neither of them knew there was a body down the hall. The window only opens from the inside, he tried it. And there were no scratches or signs of forced entry, the murderer also picked up the casing and cartridge. A professional. Fucking pros, every day they get tougher to crack. He went over each corner of both rooms and gave his imagination a break to recharge. He stood still. He could see the technicians had been everywhere, yet something was floating around that room, something he could not pin down; what was it? No fucking idea.

  In the lobby. Let’s see, Devil, my friend, your boss was not quite clear enough on one point: was there a meeting of the heavyweights here or something like that? My man Lefty, didn’t they tell you? there was a meeting of the kingpins or their lieutenants to see how to handle this business of the war. What kingpins? The ones that make up the Pacific Cartel, it was Saturday at nine, and while the meeting was going on they whacked the señorita. So that’s why they pulled you from your wedding. I had to bring the undertakers from San Chelín. Did you see the body? It was face down, covered with a sheet, under the sheet a bathrobe was covering her back from her shoulders to her behind. Did you see the hole in her head? In my opinion it was a .45, right between the eyebrows. Did you see the shell? Not me or anybody else, I’m saying that because I asked; as you can see, I’ve still got a bit of the badge in me. Lefty wrote the information in his notebook and added: grabbed her, covered her mouth, shot. Did you notice anything unusual about the guards? The one who was slogging the rounds down below was really nervous, I heard Max the boss put the squeeze on him, but maybe he had nothing to do with it, he’s kind of slow and he’s got lousy aim, a bit of a daydreamer, but he’s loyal; he’s good with the A.K., you should have seen him that night shooting up those assholes, in fact he tied thr
ee of the six that ended up swinging from the bridge. Where is he? In Culiacán. Are you having a good time? Fabulous, my man Lefty, fabulous, by the way, my father-in-law told me you’ve got yourself a hand brake and she’s really hot stuff. Lefty hung his head, Zelda smiled. Devil, spend the night here, and Chopper you too. I can’t do that, my man Lefty, I’m to follow you wherever you go. The one giving the orders here is me, didn’t Garcés tell you that? Clear as could be, you’re in charge. Well, I order you to stay overnight and I want both of you in Culiacán tomorrow at two o’clock. Thank you, my man Lefty, it’s obvious you were young once. What, do I look old now, you bastard? You look fine, I’m just saying, what’s with the bruises? Ah, I’ll tell you later; the iron’s hot, Zelda, let’s go where they treat us like people. Ortega and his team were waiting in the van.

  What was he not seeing?

  Thirty

  Two black pickups, one pockmarked with bullet-holes, tore down the main street of Aguaruto. The streets were full of people shopping for gifts or a few more lights or tinsel to finish decorating their houses. The trucks screeched to a stop in front of an office with a sign: DR FERNANDO SÁINZ, DENTAL SURGEON, U.N.A.M. Uncle Beto went up to the glass door and rang the bell, but no-one answered. The store next door, a place where people went to get their presents wrapped, was open. Good afternoon, do you know what time the dentist gets in? Ah, señor, he went to Mazatlán on vacation a week ago; he won’t be back until January 2; if it’s urgent there’s another dentist two blocks down, he’s my nephew and for sure he’ll be there. Do you recommend him? Absolutely, go and you’ll see how pleased you’ll be, that boy is renowned.

  Uncle Beto was driving, Tenia Solium by his side, wasting away. The fuckin’ pain is killin’ me; I swear if he gives me a good yank I’ll let him live. He’ll do it for you, boss, he’ll do it for you, his aunt told me he was renowned, you’ll be free of this torture at last. Fuckin’ whore of a mother, I never felt so rotten, Uncle Beto, and all for a fuckin’ skanky tooth. Some body parts are a bitch, aren’t they? In the back, Valentillo was concentrating on the sign he was finishing, which he planned to leave on the next body: For a rat / kidz, dont be jackin cars.

  Soon they reached the dentist’s office, but it was also closed. Uncle Beto asked a woman selling fruit and vegetables nearby. The dentist? no, I haven’t seen him, he must be in Culiacán; he likes to bend his elbow and sometimes he stays drunk for a week, it’s only been three days this time. Where does he live? But he’s not home, he’s my brother-in-law, that’s how I know he’s in Culiacán in some cantina drinking beer. Do you know which cantina? He’ll duck into the first one he finds, he’s got no taste, and he won’t leave until they throw him out; my poor sister, he’s made her look her fate in the face.

  Boss, if we find that drunk bastard, we’ll whack him. O.K., Uncle Beto, but first he’s got to yank this fuckin’ molar. I’ve got the sign ready, ’apa. On the kerb, two kids dressed as Santa Claus were playing cowboys. Christmas was here.

  Thirty-One

  César tried to cheer Luigi up: he threw him balls, gave him food, offered him bones, but nothing worked; he jumped up and down and yelled in his face, and the dog remained unmoved. Luigi wouldn’t eat, every day the bodyguards brought him something, stews or croquettes, but he never touched them; he looked thin, sad, feeble, only the door to the street drew his attention. He was waiting. One of the young guys thought he would never recover and murmured that they should put a bullet in him: So the poor fellow won’t suffer. He was advised not to mention it again. In the kitchen Samantha’s cell rang; she was helping her mother prepare an asado sinaloense. At that moment she was pouring hot water on slices of red onion to rid them of the smell, before washing them with cool water and squeezing on fresh lime juice. Talk to me, Lefty Mendieta, she pulled a Romaine lettuce out of the refrigerator. No, better you talk to me: how big was the meeting at the hotel? She put the lettuce on the table. It was a meeting of the group, I don’t want my people getting involved in the war and I’ve got to remind them all the time that we’re traffickers not murderers. You’ll agree with me that it’s a universe of potential suspects. Forget it, they’re all trustworthy and they were all at the meeting. How much time went by between the moment you left Mariana in her room and when you sat down with the bros? A good while, maybe an hour, I was on the phone with my son, then I showered and did a few other things. That’s a long time, Samantha, I’ve got to interrogate those bastards. Impossible. Then I can’t continue. He could hear the sizzling of hot oil. This has got to stay confidential, Lefty, and as I already told you, I don’t believe any of them did it. If you won’t help me I can’t bring you the culprit. But it wasn’t any of them, I’m certain, we were all together. But not at that time, understand me. You understand me, if I stop trusting my people I’m done for, is there anything else you want? No, we’re finished here; by the way, thank you for the present. You’re welcome, now you know you’re appreciated. She hung up. César, who was playing by himself, ran past her spitting out threats against imaginary enemies: You’re going to die, your picture will be in the papers tomorrow. Minerva sliced the radishes, chopped up the squash and the parboiled potatoes, took the boiled meat out of the pot to cut into cubes, and all the while Samantha barely washed the lettuce. If you want my advice, let him talk to them; if that policeman agreed to work with you, I don’t think he would do it in bad faith. Mama, then he’ll know who’s who and he won’t forget. I know, but if he needs to see them to find Mariana’s murderer, I think you ought to run the risk; don’t forget what happened to us with Eloy Quintana, he betrayed us and he was the man your father trusted most, what can you expect of a horde of lieutenants, which is who you said went to the meeting? They fell silent. Samantha cut the lettuce into strips, and her mother put the cubes of meat into a pan so they could fry while she was cutting up the cooked carrots. The one I feel sorry for is the widow, but what could we do? Just show her a little respect, Ma, should we put sour cream on it? It tastes better with fresh cheese and a bit of agua de jamaica. Mariana once told me that’s good for your cholesterol. Yes, she knew about those things, have you got any avocados? No, I don’t think so. Now that I can hardly believe. Daughter, with so much going on I don’t even know where my head is.

  Samantha picked up her cell and called the detective back. Alright, Lefty Mendieta, I’ll get in touch with my partners, anything else? Did any of them bring someone along? No, we asked them to come alone and Max Garcés made sure that’s the way it was; and as soon as the meeting was over they all took off. Later on I might need to know more about one or another, of course I’ll let you contact them. Thank you, Lefty Mendieta. O.K., we’re going to get something to eat. Go to El Chuchupetas in Villa Unión. What do you think of Chon in downtown Mazatlán? The last thing I’d expect is that you’d like my father’s favourite restaurant. Your father was a legend, Samantha. What do you mean a legend? We’ll talk about that some other time, see you later. Don’t forget that Christmas is less than a week away. Are you sure it happened while you were at the meeting? Absolutely, that’s why it couldn’t be any of them; she ground black pepper and sprinkled it on the meat juices which they would use for dressing. Do you remember what time you last saw her? A little after seven, we got back from the beach and each of us went into our rooms, I called my son, I got ready and I went to the meeting, it would have been about eight, eight-twenty maybe, when I joined the group. Pardon me, but you didn’t sleep in the same room? Sure, but I always keep a room next door for receiving people or giving orders, and to be by myself; of course I could have showered in hers, but this time I didn’t. Did you hear any sounds outside? it looks like the murderer slid down from the roof before eight o’clock. Really? the bastard, he was stalking us; I didn’t hear a thing, Lefty Mendieta, I was talking with my son, a really long call, and then I showered quickly, my hair was full of sand. Do you have any idea who might hate her that much? Her? impossible, nobody; me, more people than I could ever recall. We were told
the bodyguards were seen doing their rounds. They were all our people, no-one brought their own protection to the hotel; beyond the grounds we can’t control, more than a few of them think they’re being followed everywhere. Some of the hotel workers mentioned a meeting of the heavyweights, wasn’t it a secret? Well, look, after this tragedy I don’t know anymore. O.K., I’ll call you later. Enjoy your meal.

  Samantha and Minerva served the food.

  Thirty-Two

  Boss, I have to tell you something. They had already rung up three plates of shrimp plus an octopus-and-conch appetiser, along with several cold Pacíficos. Everyone looked at Zelda, who then filled them in on Gori’s encounter with Constantino Blake Hernández. Seriously? Someone beat up Gori? Introduce me to him. Poor Gori, who would have thought. The years are catching up with him. Hey, hey, he’s no older than any of us, Ortega defended him, his team of technicians smiled. We have to do something. And then what happened? We went shopping at the Forum, Angelita, Gori and I. What! Gori shopping at the Forum? that is serious. Could he be turning queer? Of course not, what does it matter if he goes to buy a gift? These are strange times we’re living through, this bastard turns up with a son exactly like him, then Gori gets beat up and goes shopping. And the boss gets a souvenir in the eye. It’s Christmas, anything can happen. The way you tell it, it doesn’t seem normal to me. That’s without counting what we were just up to. “Christmas time is here, happiness and cheer,” the singing technician piped up. Does my daughter ever drive me nuts with that song. What should we do for Gori? Let him retire. Hey, easy, he said that yesterday, but last night he didn’t mention it. Tell us what he bought. A girdle. A red thong. Don’t be nasty, he bought a couple of T-shirts for himself, a bottle of perfume for his wife and another for his daughter. Good idea, the perfume, I’ve got to get my old lady something. He also bought a present for you, boss. Oh yeah? what is it? Alright, I’ll tell you, but don’t you let on: a book. Gori bought me a book? For sure it’s that bestseller, the one with poems for reading out loud. Wrong, Chief Ortega, it’s a novel. I can’t believe Gori knows what a novel is. Well, he asked the bookseller, remember he’s no dummy. Leave my friend alone, you fucking loco. Aren’t you the greedy one, fucking Lefty. It’s Christmas, asshole. “Christmas time is here, happiness and cheer.” They ate grilled fish, breaded shrimp and ordered more beer. As far as I know Gori has never given anything to anybody, not even at the Secret Santa. Fucking Lefty, you’re screwing him or what? Hey, hey, I’m right here. Forgive me, Zelda, forgive me. What’s the novel? The Count of Monte Cristo. Is it thick? Fucking Ortega, don’t ask stupid questions. For sure it’s a comic book. Your mother, asshole. Señores, Zelda banged her beer with a spoon, I asked you a question: What can we do for Gori? do you have any ideas? One. Well, tell us. “Christmas time is here, happiness and cheer.” Shut up with that fucking song or I’ll bust your nuts, jerkoff. Hey, what’s wrong with you, embrace the season. Agreed, Zelda my dear, but keep this faggot from singing, I put up with it from my little girl, but there’s no reason I have to listen to him. Don’t fuck with me, you bastard, it’s no big deal. Fucking Gori. Well, we’ve got work to do in Culichi, shall we go? What about dessert? Ask for the cheque. And what about Gori? Yeah, I’ll tell you about my idea in the car. He could become a monk. He could open a school for torturers. We should hang out for a while. Impossible, we have work in Navolato. Don’t be a jerk, this isn’t any old place, it’s Mazatlán, the pearl of the Pacific. Sure is filled with great-looking women. And faggots. That’s what you really want, isn’t it, asshole? Hey, please, a little respect, I’m not a blow-up doll. It’s ten past six. “Silent Night, Holy Night.” The Count of Monte Cristo, you say? there’s no fixing you, when you want to gossip, nobody can stop you. Don’t tell on me, boss, eh?