Name of the Dog

by Elmer Mendoza

  At 11.00 they got on the highway to Culiacán.

  Thirty-Five

  At a safe house in the neighbourhood of Las Quintas he met up with Max Garcés. Samantha Valdés gave me the list of the people at the Mazatlán meeting, was it you who made the reservations? Max Garcés smiled: P.C. did. The Pacific Cartel, I know, did you assign them rooms or was it first-come first-served? We handed out the keys as each arrived. Did all of them come alone? We checked that very carefully, no-one brought a companion or a bodyguard, most of them arrived a little before the meeting and left when it ended. Were they people you knew? Four of them. Are there new people all the time? Ever since the war began, they’re never the same. Do you remember how the rooms were distributed? We were on either side, above, below and across from the señoras, two on the first floor, four on the second and two on the third; the women were on the second floor, surrounded, and there were a couple of doddering gringos at the end we couldn’t evict. Were any of your men in either of the women’s rooms when they did the deed? No, not then, we were in the hallways and the garden outside, I gave you the video, remember, you can see the dude watching the señorita’s hallway in his position, we call him the Bogeyman, and you can see the gringos coming back from a stroll. Lefty had watched the video but seen nothing worth noting. There aren’t any exterior cameras, but Drysnot was keeping watch out there. Who’s half blind, Devil told me. Not so blind he wouldn’t see somebody approaching. We found evidence the murderer rappelled down from the roof and came in the window, what’s the exterior lighting like? Max grew thoughtful. A little weak, in those hotels that’s how they do it. He used a uniform the same colour as the wall and similar to the ones the workers wear and he must have done it so quickly and silently your guard didn’t notice. I’m not surprised, he’s really young, maybe some gringas in thongs walked by and he got a little distracted. Max scratched behind his ear. The reason the murderer could be connected to your group is he knew Mariana was in her room, what time did the señoras arrive from Culiacán? We got to the hotel at five, before that we ate at El Cuchupetas. Did you have people in the rooms before? From the moment they gave them to us. We have a list of when each of your guests got in and it looks like they came between two and five in the afternoon, do you remember who was in which room? We never pay attention to that and no-one writes it down. Tell me their approximate ages. Most between forty and sixty, the youngest is from Ciudad Juárez, probably thirty-nine, and the oldest is from Tijuana, about seventy. Did you notice anything unusual in the room where the murder took place, something you hadn’t seen when you inspected it? Nothing, I’m even surprised about the window, we thought it was secure; the señorita likes to keep her window open, but she was told to keep it closed when she wasn’t standing by it and she obeyed the rules. Did anyone arrive early, maybe the day before or in the morning? No, everyone came after two; I should have put someone on the roof. Did he really come from there, Lefty wondered, or was he trying to throw us off the trail? O.K., now bring in the guard who won the booby prize.

  It could have been a boy-girl team, maybe the girl wearing a dental-floss thong distracted the guard while the guy slid down and managed to get in the window somehow. Like in the movies, she could have sashayed up to the guard, a cigarette between her red lips, asking for a light, the kid pulls out a lighter and ogles her tits while he lights the cigarette. Still flirting she blows smoke in his face and wiggles her breasts. I like that, fucking Lefty, you’re thinking about how hot the dames are. You again? You know I’m only now recovering from the thrashing the gringo gave me, as a matter of fact I was glad to hear how it affected his health. Enough, we’ll go and see Susana soon. There’s a man for you, not a piece of shit.

  I’m Drysnot. Your name. That’s it. Don’t be a jerk, tell me your name, the one your parents gave you. Cayetano Villa Solano. What’s wrong with you? Nothing. Stop pretending this isn’t about you, I know you have problems with your eyesight. A little, when it’s getting dark and there isn’t much light, my eyes go wonky. Does it last long? A little while. Where precisely were you standing guard when Mariana Kelly was killed? Do you know the place? Tell me how far you were from the rubber tree. Drysnot looked at the floor. I was under it for a while, then I made my rounds. The murderer slid down from the roof, did you ever look up there? In truth, I didn’t. He began to sweat copiously. And you didn’t hear the sound of anyone sliding down either. There were some really noisy tourists drinking beer about ten metres away. Men or women? Most of them babes, they were listening to music in English and dancing. Mendieta wrote something in his notebook. How hot were they? Fuck, they were really good, he mumbled. Wet T-shirts? Forget T-shirts, a few didn’t even have underwear. Room with green easy chairs, window with thick glass, the light flooding in. You’re afraid they’ll kill you, right, asshole? you’re shitting yourself. I was born to die, Mr Fuzz, but I can’t deny I feel like shit, there are moments I think I’m already dead. I won’t tell your boss any of this, so take it easy, maybe it’s still not time for you to hang up your sneakers. Thank you, and if you don’t have any more questions, I’d like to go, I don’t feel well. Are you planning to put a bullet in your head? That’s what I deserve, even if they clear all this up it’ll never be the same for me. I was told you’ve been really wild on this latest killing spree. That’s my job and yessir, there’s a really big demon eating at my insides. Don’t kill yourself yet, I’ve got a couple of questions to ask you another day. Come for me anytime. Hang in there, if you don’t I’ll tell Max you’re the culprit. Not even if God wills it, I’ll wait until you don’t need me anymore, and right now I’m going to the bathroom. I’m a witness.

  Before heading off to find Samantha, he spoke with the Bogeyman, who like Drysnot had not heard a sound, much less a gunshot from the room. No-one was in the rooms on either side, the one on the fourth floor was occupied by a Canadian couple, why didn’t he rappel down from there? Because the cameras in the hallways would have caught him, he knew the place; I’ll have to take another look at the videos. Ortega still didn’t have his report ready. He kept turning it over in his mind as he drove toward Lomas de San Miguel: It could have been any of the guests, especially the eight attendees; loyalty ain’t what it used to be, we’ll have to look at their histories, see who would have been most likely to betray Samantha. If they were the only ones who knew about the meeting, someone must have hired a professional, those assholes always make us look our fate in the face, fucking faggots; of course, the jerk went up the elevator dressed as a worker, saw that Drysnot was drooling over the naked tourists, slid down, opened the window, went in right when Mariana was coming out of the shower all wet, maybe she was drying her hair, he put a bullet between her eyes, laid her face down; if they found her right away they would think she was sleeping; it could be he killed her in . . . no, for sure she had already come out of the bathroom. How did he open the window? I tried it and it was pretty firm. While Samantha and the others talked about their shit, he slipped out calm as could be the same way he came in; of course, he knew the Bogeyman was in the hallway and that he would be taped there. Then he probably let himself down to the ground and Drysnot ogling the babes thought he was a hotel employee. Too bad they don’t have cameras outside or in the bedrooms. Maybe he knocked her off while Samantha was talking with her son, I’ll ask Zelda to go through the videos. He dialled her.

  Boss, the chief is looking for you. I’ll be there in an hour, do we have anything from Ortega? Nothing, he must be knee-deep in cadavers, did you see how many bodies turned up this morning? No. Twenty-six, two or three with narcograms on them. Oh boy. The one who’s really heavy is Tenia Solium, Pineda sent me a report on him that’s terrifying. We’ll talk about that later, tell me, was there anything in Mariana Kelly’s room that caught your attention? Boss, I’m working on that, there was something, it’s eating at me, I don’t know if it was in the room or on the roof, and I can’t put my finger on it. It might have been a hitman hired by someone in the group. Sinc
e they were the only ones who knew the day, hour and place, that would make sense. Almost, think harder and see if you can figure it out, I’m like you. Should I call Ortega? Don’t even think about it, he’d fly off the handle and we wouldn’t see the report until next year; I want to take a look at the names of the other guests again, especially the ones staying upstairs. I went over them already, nothing but old folks with arthritis. The videos from the hotel are on my desk, they’re labelled by floor, could you take a look at them? Sure. O.K., I’ll see you in a little while.

  Obregón Avenue was all decked out for Christmas.

  Devil said it was a .45. I didn’t smell anything funny; well, it was a little more than a week after the murder, and I’m no dog. Did the murderer know they were going to waterproof the roof? No point asking Samantha which of her enemies would want to make her a widow a second time, she’s got too many; well, why not?

  Before receiving Edgar Mendieta, the head of the Pacific Cartel met with a green-eyed fortune teller who said Mariana’s murderer was a man and probably someone she did not know. Is he very strong? King of spades, Señora Valdés, practically invincible, only another king of spades could handle him. Does he live nearby? That information I’m not getting, only that it is a powerful man. You mean he’ll strike again? That’s possible, the king of spades never rests. Well, neither does the king of coins, we’ll see whose skin makes more belts, like my father used to say.

  What have you got for me, Lefty Mendieta? We’ve got something, but first tell me why you haven’t eased off on the killings. There are demons on the loose and plenty of bullets to be shot. I thought you could control them. I’d love to, but not all of them live in my hell; besides, the young punks are running free and loving it. I’d like you to do something about it. Don’t be ingenuous, not even the President asks me that. That’s because he goes around in an armoured car and I don’t think he hears as many screams as we do. She smiled. I never thought you would take an interest in the war. Now who’s being ingenuous? as far as I’m concerned they can slice each other to bits; all I care about is having a quiet Christmas, for the first time in my life I’m thinking of buying presents. Well, where are we at? We think it was a solitary assassin who rappelled down from the roof and came in the window; we’re waiting on the ballistics report; do you suspect any of your enemies? No matter how I look at it, I can’t think of anybody who’d have the balls to do something so outrageous. Any suitors? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any men showing interest, and I’d know about it since they always try to make a big splash. Anyone she dumped? There are lots of those, but none of them would dare go this far, they might pull her hair, but that’s about it; Mariana was reading a book by Mónica Lavín, I looked through it and there’s nothing underlined or anything else that might indicate she was afraid, will it be of any use? Later on you can lend it to me, I want you to call the people who were at the meeting from a telephone where I can listen in. My cell has a speaker. Perfect, I know only lieutenants came, do you have their numbers? and then I’ll tell you who I want to see here; how far in advance did they know the place and time of the meeting? Three days. That much? They needed to take precautions for travelling, especially in the current circumstances. O.K. They called Max who came in with the list.

  You are going to ask each of them for the name of the person they came with. They came alone. No matter, and if Max does the talking, all the better. Garcés telephoned the first. What’s up, Chávez, this is Max Garcés, how’s Juaritos? Hey, Max, great to hear from you, how’s the fuse in Culichi? Burning, my man Chávez, and you? On my toes, following La Jefa’s instructions and drinking like a fish, somebody gave me a case of Mexican wine that’s dynamite. Strange you like it better than beer, listen, what’s the name of that person you brought with you to Mazatlán? You know I was hot to take a babe along, but I went alone, those were the orders, weren’t they? You didn’t even bring bodyguards? Nothing. Great, we’ll be seeing you. O.K., my man Max.

  They all answered more or less the same until they got to Mexicali.

  Thirty-Six

  María Leyva was at the wheel of the white minivan, deftly handling the traffic, Francelia asleep at her side; in the back, stretched out on seats converted into a bed, Héctor Ugarte remained awake. They were on the highway to Guadalajara. By now they must have figured out they didn’t get me, for sure they’re running around like crazy looking for us, they’ve probably torn the house down, broken everything we have and got the neighbours all upset; who were they? was the Secretary mad enough to send his men in grey suits? what a nefarious jerk, he doesn’t know how to wield power. I bet he was hoping I would call General Alvarado, but he was wrong, his telephones must be tapped like mine. He recognised Glenn Miller’s “American Patrol”, which María had on to keep drowsiness at bay. Maybe not, more likely he would have sent one of the bodyguards I’d met to humiliate me; so? From the moment I laid eyes on him in the Hilton he gave me a bad feeling. Yet sometimes an idea can suddenly become so urgent you draw on everything you’ve got to pull it off; but why am I avoiding thinking about it? He felt slightly nauseous and a wave of pain swept through him, paralysing him for a moment. This isn’t any old thing, and you’re no champion without a trophy, who said dying would be easy? He resisted the urge to moan so as not to upset his wife, who believed the movement of the car was bound to make him feel sicker and even suggested they stay in some nondescript hotel. When you’re on the run nothing is secure and no place is nondescript, there are informers everywhere. The narcos? no, I don’t think so, they would have massacred everyone in the house and wouldn’t have given me the chance to fire; Alvarado thinks a new group is being formed, an elite corps, but these seemed like novices, they let me surprise them; I was part of an elite corps, and frankly it’s something else, those boys seemed like dimwits. Do you want me to take a turn? he heard Francelia. Are you feeling alright? Uh-huh, I had a nap, how’s Pa? Asleep, he hasn’t complained; at the next tollbooth or gas station we can trade places, are you sure you’re up for it? Yes, in English. Oui, in French. They smiled. Ugarte in the back enjoyed their chatter. That’s why I won’t let them kill me; I’m going to die, no way around it, but I want to spend the days I have left with these two. If my son is going to musicals in New York, he’ll be fine; he could have been a cyclist and competed in the Tour de France, but everybody chooses the cross they’ll bear for the rest of their lives. Sometimes mine was light, though most of the time it was just the opposite, insufferable; María, you owe me more kisses than all the grains of sand on the beach at Altata, you can’t imagine what I’ve done for your love; my profession did not make me happy, I understand that now, I can see anonymity doesn’t suit me; I would have liked everyone to know who I am, to have known of my skills, what I’ve achieved, how I’ve managed to make a family with this difficult and incredible woman; where will we end up? Killing is easy, but dying is something else; now I know we won’t be safe in Culiacán either. Zzz. He drowsily caressed the Smith & Wesson in his hand. Zzz.

  Bit by bit, zzz, he was falling into the zzz, pool of zzz.

  *

  At Guadalajara Airport María waited in line for tickets to Culiacán. “Customer Juan Nepomuceno Pérez Vizcaíno, passenger on flight 1955 for Comala, please come to gate number thirty-eight, your flight is departing.” Francelia was buying a few things for herself and oral rehydration salts for her father. It was seven o’clock in the morning, they had slept in the van, where Ugarte was now sweating and waiting. Everywhere, more Christmas decorations and ambient Christmas music. The saleswomen worked slowly, almost sleepily, and María wanted everything sped up so she could go see if her husband needed the bathroom or had thrown up.

  That was when she saw them. There were two: young, muscular, shorn heads, the same attitude as the ones they had left lying on her floor. My God. She spotted Francelia, who already had the salts, a bag of potato chips and a red Gatorade, and she waved at her to head in the other direction. Like in a movie, the
girl pretended to be looking at magazines and then bought a newspaper. The men continued watching unperturbed, impassive. Grey suits, dark neckties. María remained in line, a line that was not quite crowded enough for her to disappear without calling attention to herself. At the counter she asked for flights to New York. There was a plane leaving at one in the afternoon. Do you have nine seats? I’m sorry, there are only three left and they’re not together, the rest of the group will have to go at eight tonight. Let me ask them, would you like me to go back to the end of the line? No, just come right to me, I’ll give you twenty minutes. Thank you. She walked slowly toward the exit. Her cell rang but she did not answer. She spied another pair of men at the door by which she would have left, looking very much like the first, and she spotted her daughter in a crowd walking to the parking lot. Cold. Overcast.

  What should we do? Don’t forget my medicine. The young woman turned to face her father, who had been interrogating them. Pa, we’re surrounded, let’s go on by land, do you think you can make it? María turned her head, calm but running on adrenaline. Let’s do that, you’ll be safer there. We could stay near here. Mazamitla, Ma, we haven’t been there in such a long time. If they’re in the airport, they’ll soon be on the highway, let’s get ahead of them; from what you’re telling me, they don’t think we’re leaving from here, they’re expecting us to arrive, let’s take advantage of that, he recalled that the Secretary thought he lived in Guadalajara. How long has it been since we last travelled to Culiacán by land? Eighty years. Are you sure they aren’t already there? No, I’m not sure of anything anymore. It’s true, our odds are shrinking. And my aunt sold her place in the country last year. So? Let’s trust in “The Purloined Letter” effect. Pa, that was in the nineteenth century, Edgar Allan Poe wouldn’t know which way was up today. You’d be surprised at the things that don’t change. I hope this is one of them; can I know why they’re after you like this? Please, Francelia. Let her, María, she’s part of the picture now; daughter, I am a small enemy of a very powerful person. But who is it, who could be so influential as to mount this operation to keep you from ending your days peacefully or even take a plane? what did you do to make them hunt you down like this? María did not try to stop him from answering. There are three or four people it could be. Is one of them the person you went to see in Mexico City a little while ago? That’s likely. Héctor, you should tell us so we know who to watch out for; your brothers live so far away, you could say we’re your only family. Roadblock, Francelia warned. Ugarte closed his eyes, may it be as God wishes, some people are always playing their last card.