Name of the Dog

by Elmer Mendoza

  He felt satisfied after so many years of waiting and wanting, but never had he imagined he would experience such peace; he felt the weight of his pistol lying on his abdomen and concluded there was no reason to put it off, what for? One of his objectives, perhaps the most important, had been achieved flawlessly. Through the window he saw the silhouette of a mermaid and the fatal shadow fluttering in the corner of his eye.

  He turned the television off.

  Forty-Three

  At a house the cartel kept near the airport, Lefty met up with Nicanor Durazo. The man was heavyset and very sweaty. Have you got relatives in Sinaloa? My mother’s from here, one of her sisters works in the government, I don’t know exactly what she does but she’s some big caca; when I was a kid we always spent our vacations here. Tell me about the meeting in Mazatlán. Durazo glanced at Garcés, who indicated he could go ahead. It was short, we were eight plus the señora, since I got a room on the first floor I was the last one there, about eight o’clock; I was worried because a long time went by before the Bogeyman came to tell me she was ready for the meeting, the way we’d agreed. What did you do in the meantime? They were showing “The Man with the Golden Arm”, dubbed into Spanish, I really like Frank Sinatra, so I was glued to the tube. How long have you been doing rock-climbing? Me? crazy is one thing I’m not, the only sport I do is the open bar. You went to Wong’s room before the meeting. But I didn’t stay; besides not being one of the saints he prays to, there was nowhere to sit. I didn’t know there was trouble between you two, Max interjected. It was about a woman, that happens sometimes; I didn’t know he was looking to be her guy until he gave me shit. I hope it doesn’t get out of hand. For me it’s water under the bridge, did you interrogate Wong? He’s one of the last, Mendieta said and decided to stop there, the only thing this guy has in common with Tarzan is the moustache, in other words, nothing. Did you see anyone acting strange: nervous or excited? No, nor was there much light to see by, the only thing I remember is the smell: freshly cut roses.

  In a few minutes he was alone with Garcés. They lit cigarettes. That bastard couldn’t rappel if he was hanging from my balls, besides he was the last to show up and the Hyena said the guy he fingered arrived before him; Max, we’re missing somebody, if the security, Drysnot aside, worked to keep outsiders out and it wasn’t a professional hit man, then it was someone who was both things: a professional and a lieutenant; I’d like to speak with Samantha, how is she doing? Down in the dumps, sheesh, do dames ever love each other to death. They are really something, you’re right; Max, where were you when Mariana Kelly got murdered? In the meeting room greeting the guests. Who accompanied Samantha to the meeting room? The Bogeyman and two more. They smoked. Did you know Samuel Estrada? The Turk, of course, what about him? He’s dead, Tenia Solium killed him. Max dragged hard on his cigarette. Back in the beginning, when Don Marcelo was still alive, the Turk was one of ours; he got picked up the same night they killed my father, may he rest in peace, and he did twenty years; ever since he got out he’s been with Arredondo, who by the way is on the rise, and if we don’t keep an eye on him, in a few years he’ll be pushing us aside; the Turk hated the Valdés family, he thought we’d set him up. So he must have sung like a canary in prison. Fact is, he didn’t, it turns out what he wanted was to take revenge himself, he was fierce, really bitter; besides, when you’re in the can and you drop a name you’re fucked, you’ve got to give them all up. Why would Tenia kill him? That guy would kill his own mother, that’s why we don’t want him.

  The afternoon was not too hot, they were sitting in rocking chairs by a window with the Japanese blind pulled shut. Max offered him a snort, Lefty took a small grain and put it on his tongue, left it there for a few seconds, then spit it out. I don’t want you to get me hooked, the cure will be worse than the disease. Garcés put a respectable dose up his nose. Listen, what’s the story on Hunk Gómez? Strange you should ask: yesterday he called and requested permission to take you down. Oh, yeah? He won’t touch you, not even with a rose petal, do you know why he wanted to kill you? You tell me. You tortured one of his friends. Ah, the bastard Diablo and Chopper grabbed at El Farallón. And there’s something there: the Hunk was supposed to be at the meeting in Mazatlán, but he slept through it; even so, somebody from Tijuana showed up, and we haven’t figured out who he was, not even they know. Mendieta shifted in his seat. Why didn’t you tell me this before? you greeted them all. Max smoked. As you know, it was a meeting of lieutenants so it’s no surprise to see people we’ve never met, it’s one way the kingpins protect themselves; the Hunk went to Mazatlán, but he partied with some babes, he didn’t admit he was the one they sent until yesterday. Could he be the murderer? Hmm, I don’t think so, he’s even clumsier than Durazo. Somebody took his place, that’s the bastard we haven’t pinned down. And it’s very likely he’s the buddy the Hyena is fingering, remember he was half drunk and, as you might have noticed, he’s pretty spaced, he could have mixed up who was from where. I want to speak with the Hunk, they found a scrap of paper with his name on it in Turk Estrada’s clothing, just maybe he had some contact with the interloper. That won’t be possible, didn’t I tell you he wouldn’t touch you even with a rose petal? this morning we put thirty bullets in him. Then I guess not. The detective reflected: With the Turk dead too that line of investigation is going nowhere fast.

  I remember a shrimpy guy wearing a leather jacket, a bit haggard, about seventy or seventy-five years old; I only saw him for a moment; the Hunk didn’t know what to say when I asked who had come in his place. Maybe Samantha got a better look at him, call her.

  The boss of the Pacific Cartel brightened when Max told her there might have been an infiltrator in Mazatlán. He handed the telephone to Lefty. Samantha Valdés, do you remember the guy from Tijuana? He was very handsome, I even told him so, good-looking despite his age; I was going to call his boss to ask about him because we were expecting Hunk Gómez, but with all this mess it went right out of my head. Tall? About five foot six, more or less, like me, thin, straight as an arrow, and he had a peculiar smile when I shook his hand, which by the way was soft, a bit effeminate, but strong; was he the bastard? That I don’t know yet, I’ll keep you posted, but he’s a good place to start; did he remind you of anything or anyone? maybe you knew him. Nothing struck me, but you know how these things are; listen, if it’s him you’ve got to find him. I know, but he’s turned to smoke. If you need resources, just ask Max. Before you hang up: what was his peculiar smile like? She fell silent. I don’t know, like he felt superior, he was a handsome man, the kind any woman would want, sort of like Leonardo DiCaprio or Brad Pitt. But those guys are uglier than punching God on Good Friday. Lucky you that you can kid around, Lefty Mendieta. Sorry, thank you, we’ll be in touch. The detective hung up abruptly because his cell had gone crazy. It was Susana. He listened. Daylight no longer filtered through the Japanese blind. Max, I have to take care of a personal matter, call Wong before he goes to his family party, maybe he’s remembered the name of the guy who gave him a bad feeling; it’s obviously not Durazo.

  *

  He found a very upset Susana at home with Jason. A gringo, who identified himself as Jackie Chan, had turned up asking for Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jason said. He could have been a dead ringer for him if he weren’t short and slight and Asian.

  Do you remember me? To be frank, no.

  I went to your restaurant once, with a friend who was looking to go out with you, a big strong guy. Oh, you did, did you?

  I’m looking for him, have you seen him? He’s at the Hotel Tres Ríos and we haven’t seen him for four days; maybe he went back to Los Angeles.

  He didn’t; he’s got an implanted chip that went down a few days ago. Is that so?

  It does that when the person travels to the moon or gets buried. What! you mean he died?

  I don’t know, we talked every day, always about you; I’m betting he wouldn’t have dug into his arm to remove the chip and bury it. I hope he’s alrigh
t; he came here several times to ask me out to lunch or supper, but I wouldn’t go.

  He was really in love with you. More like infatuated, I’d say.

  That boyfriend of yours, the one he fought with, where can I find him? He’s a detective, I suppose at Police Headquarters.

  His name? Edgar Mendieta.

  He said he was going to look for you and all he wanted was to find his friend, dead or alive. Susana looked pale, alarmed, worn down. Is there something you haven’t told me, Edgar? About that guy, nothing, as you can imagine he’s not somebody I lie awake at night thinking about. Mama, you shouldn’t have given him his name, Marines are really tenacious when it’s a question of one of their own. It’s alright, Jason, nothing’s going to happen, there’s nothing to hide; I’m sorry if I blew it. Don’t get upset, for sure tomorrow he’ll turn up at Headquarters and I’ll clear up what I can for him; from what you’ve told me, I’m guessing he got killed. That’s what he led me to understand. So, we’re up against the Marines, said Jason, isn’t that something; I’ve heard with those chips they can locate you anywhere in the world. Call the Tres Ríos and ask for him. Jason looked at him anxiously, then smiled and went to find a telephone book.

  He hasn’t been back in four days, the young receptionist said, intrigued. O.K., I’ll wait for the Marine to come to Headquarters, if he’s investigating the case and isn’t from Interpol, we can’t offer much help, but don’t worry, the gringos rarely need our assistance on cases like this; I bet the big oaf is drinking himself silly in Altata, would you like to go out for something? You two go, Gustavo and I have a date with the girls. Does he still want to kill himself? Not anymore, now he’s joined the club and he wants to be an officer like his dad. But he hated that, how did you convince him? He did it all by himself, the colonel came over to give him some money for Christmas and they spent a long time talking, he’s really pleased to have his son follow in his footsteps. I want you to follow your own. Please, Mama, take it easy, go out and have a good time, and don’t be home late, you’ll keep Grandma up and she’ll be haunting the house like a ghost. Lefty answered a call from Zelda. Boss, don’t look for me at Headquarters. I won’t. I left a while ago, after talking with Lizzie Tamayo, who came in with her sword drawn for what we did to Blake Hernández. Seriously? She said she never lodged a complaint against anyone, certainly not against him, and she doesn’t want to know who murdered her husband, as far as she’s concerned we can forget all about it. We’ll take her suggestion into account. Ortega called to say there are no prints on the rappelling equipment and he has nothing more to report; about the videos, they’re damaged, boss, all you can see are black lines, I don’t think they’ll be any help at all. Alright, take it easy.

  In the Toyota he turned on the stereo: “Bette Davis Eyes” by Kim Carnes.

  They went to El Quijote, which was packed.

  Curlygirl’s eyes grew wide when he recognised Susana Luján. Honeychild, this is outrageous, you look exactly the same, gorgeous as ever and still with your perfect derrière. You’re the one who looks great, Curlygirl. They hugged. Lefty, I’m so glad you brought her, we’ll get your table ready right away.

  Susana cut a swath, the drinkers took one look at her body and comments began to flow; Mendieta liked that, he could count on the fingers of one hand the times he had been out with a beautiful woman admired by all, especially in a happening place like El Quijote. The vocalist of the norteño group was chiding the crowd: Of course, for sure, we’ll play all the corridos you want, but first, sticking out his belly, caress what’s hanging from me, you bastards. Fuck your mother, people yelled. Your dear mother can do it too, we don’t want anybody to feel left out. Coolchicks, tell the one about the G.M.O. chilli. Sit down and I’ll tell you, Papa. You’re a faggot. That’s what you used to think, tell the bros how you felt after I was done with you, don’t be shy, Pissass, that’s just the way you were born. Sing already, asshole, you’re like an old woman who won’t shut up. Did you hear that? that was my wife, her word is law; my dear, what are you doing here? you’ve got my whole paycheque already, you say it’s not enough? not enough for the pot on the stove or for the flame in your belly? yes, sure, yes, of course, of course; “La Banda del Carro Rojo”, a hit from the immortal Tigres del Norte! let’s hear it for the little town of Rosa Morada, you faggots; and fuck the mother of whoever turns tail. Come on, sing already, Coolchicks, and stop talking bullshit.

  They were seated in a secluded spot and were served roast beef tacos, beer and salsa mexicana. Paper wraps stone, Lefty said, smiling, then without knowing why, he told Curlygirl about Jason. Aha, so you two had something going, eh? congratulations; but listen, I won’t ever tire of telling you how great you look, you’ve got to give me the recipe. But you don’t look so bad yourself, Curlygirl, you’ve still got that soft skin and creamy complexion, which is the hardest thing of all to keep. I have my secrets too, we should trade, don’t you think? what a surprise, Lefty, what a surprise. Stop making such a fuss and bring us more beer. Oh, come on, it’s been years since I’ve seen this beauty and you don’t want me to enjoy it? so how old is the kid? Eighteen. And just now trying out his dad, that’s great. Curlygirl went off to his work, and the two of them looked at each other. His body had been asking for action for several minutes, but Lefty had kept it more or less under control. Susana took his hand and looked into his eyes. Would you really come to Los Angeles? Right away, as soon as you go, I already looked into it; it’s a village near Guasave, right? Edgar, I can’t believe what’s happening, how well you and Jason are getting along, and, yes, us too after so many years. We’re an urban myth. I love you, Edgar: earnest, unblinking gaze, holy hand; I’m serious. Curlygirl, who heard her words, discreetly placed the bottles of beer on the table and slipped away. The detective felt his entire being begin to vibrate, felt that God exists and lives nearby in the Col Pop. His body was humming happily and announced it with an explosive erection. Hey, take it easy, everything in due course. Your thing is sending me signals, Lefty, I swear. Hang on, don’t get ahead of me. The Seventh Cavalry Charge interrupted. Mendieta here. I called the Hyena, the guy was from the military, he remembers him from twenty-odd years ago and his name is Edgar Iriarte. He’s got my name? So it seems. Thank you, Max.

  Lefty turned toward Susana, who was sensually applying burgundy red to her lips. She looked even more beautiful than every other time he had been with her. I love her too, he thought. I love her a fuck of a lot; and yes, I would like to live with her for the rest of my life; as the Beatles would say: here, there and everywhere; I’d have a ball with Jason. His body cried out, but in vain: he was feeling so romantic all he could think was: “I only believe in what I touch, and you, woman, I touch right to the core.” Sincerely, Jaime Labastida.

  They left the place hugging, kissing, and drove away listening to “Stumblin’ In” by Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman. They failed to see the Asian shadow who made sure they did not slip from view. Neither did they see the other two shadows, who grabbed the first, hooded him, beat him, stuffed him in the trunk of a dark car and drove off along a familiar route.

  Forty-Four

  What did María tell her daughter about Ugarte? The truth; she told her about his obsessive love for Mariana Kelly, how brutally he had suffered from it eighteen years before and how she never thought it would go so far. You were a baby. She paused and stared into space. I won’t stay on, if you want to keep him company until he dies, that would be a humane and beautiful thing to do, but I can’t; I’m leaving tonight for Mexico City to request a visa so I can be with your brother as soon as possible, maybe I can get one in time for Christmas; I’m absolutely furious, I know I hurt him something awful, but I am what I am, and I no longer have any respect for him, in fact I despise him, deep inside I feel like telling Samantha Valdés all about it and letting her cut him to pieces. Mama, please don’t do that, I’m begging you, she wailed disconsolately, then paused the time it would take to read a sonnet; did you tell Aramís?
Francelia had learned about her mother’s sexuality when she was fourteen and it got her all mixed up, but in the end she came to accept it. I’ll tell him when I get there. And she knew her father would follow the military tradition and take his own life. Can I have a few minutes to think a little? she gave her mother a chilly kiss and left the restaurant; she walked along the beach, and by the time she returned to the hotel it was dark. She found María in the lobby with her green suitcase, ready to depart, and she asked her to wait. Then she ran into a group of drunk young women in wet T-shirts. Some things in life repeat more often than necessary.

  In the darkened bedroom she kissed her father on the forehead. I know you’ll know what to do, Papa, she murmured, I hope you have what you need. Ugarte, without opening his eyes, pointed at the pistol on his abdomen and remained still. Could you tell me who you were? The best, honey, the best. Yes, in English, nodding firmly, she picked up her bag, and her voice vibrating with intensity: I love you, Papa, and if it’s worrying you, believe me that I love you even more now. I do too, my precious, do you want to know what they called me? What? The bedroom was cold. Dog’s Name. Like that? you weren’t Odie or Beethoven? Just that. Why did you do it, Pa? Ugarte opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the young woman with shining hair, his beautiful and haughty daughter. For love, it cut me to the core to see how your mother and I suffered because of that contemptuous swine, her scorn was beyond toxic. But why did you wait until now? Because I only got back two years ago, remember, for fifteen years I couldn’t come any nearer than the border, and she was closely guarded; but suddenly everything fell into place, as if God had given me one final chance. Francelia resisted the urge to hug him and left without hearing him say: I did it for love, which is the only thing that explains your deepest needs. Taking his daughter’s place, the shadow suddenly grew darker, more solid. Ugarte perceived the inescapable meaning and did not worry; from what he had seen so far, both of them knew how to wait.