The Body of Martin Aguilera

by Percival Everett

  “It’s okay.”

  Maggie and Laura joined them.

  “Cyril,” Lewis said, “I’d like you to meet Maggie Okada and my granddaughter Laura.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Cyril said.

  “Long way to drive just to say hello,” Maggie said.

  Cyril smiled at her. “Well, actually, I was expecting Lewis to call.” He looked at Lewis. “When you didn’t, I guess I started to worry. But now I can see that everything is fine.”

  “Thanks for the concern.”

  “Laura and I will start carrying in the groceries,” Maggie said.

  Lewis nodded. “I’ll be right there.” To Cyril, “Come in. Have some tea with us.”

  Cyril looked at the full car. “I can see I’ve come at a bad time. I’m a bit rushed anyway.” He watched Maggie and Laura go into the house. “Cute kid.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “How did everything turn out?”

  “I suppose you heard they’re calling Martin’s death an accident.”

  Cyril nodded.

  “That’s about it and I don’t know what to make of it.”

  Cyril looked like he didn’t know what to say.

  Lewis didn’t want to go into detail about Fonda’s and the Penitentes. He didn’t really understand what was driving him and he was embarrassed and he didn’t want to pull yet another person into the thick of the mess.

  “Listen, I’d better get out of here and let you help with the unloading before you get into trouble. “He made a move toward his car.

  “No, come on in, have tea and sit.”

  “Sure.” Cyril helped carry in the groceries, then went back to the car.

  “We’ll get that other stuff later,” Lewis told him.

  Cyril wanted coffee instead of tea. The men sat in the living room. Maggie and Laura went out for a walk.

  “I guess I rubbed your friend the wrong way,” Cyril said.

  “Maybe. It’s a big step, her moving in here.”

  “Oh, that’s what’s in the car. I didn’t know. I really should leave and let you two get things squared away.”

  “They’ve gone for a walk now.”

  They sat quietly and looked out the front window at the view off the mountain.

  “That really is some piece of real estate,” Cyril said of the plateau below. “That gorge is something.”

  “Yeah,” Lewis agreed, sipping his tea.

  “Again, I’m really sorry about your friend Martin.”

  Lewis nodded. “He was a special fellow.”

  “Were you very close?”

  “Reasonably, I guess.” Lewis looked at Cyril. “What did you think of him?”

  “He was really concerned about his dog. That’s always a good sign to me.”

  “Did he ever talk to you about anything?” Cyril asked.

  Lewis chuckled. “That’s a broad question.”

  “I mean like his dog and what was wrong with it. Something seemed to be bothering him when he came to my office. More than just the dog.”

  Lewis rubbed his chin. “I’m not recalling anything.”

  The back door made a noise being opened.

  “Thanks for the coffee, but I’d better let you, you know.”

  Lewis smiled. “Yeah, Maggie can be tough, too.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Lewis said. “Thanks for coming out.”

  Lewis walked the man outside where they shook hands. Cyril climbed into his Jeep. Lewis watched the car round the bend of the drive, then grabbed the first of Maggie’s things to bring in. Maggie held the door for him.

  “Cyril’s the vet I told you about,” Lewis said. He put his load down on the table.

  “What did he want?” Maggie asked. There was an edge to her voice.

  “What’s wrong, Maggie?”

  “All this stuff is scary,” she said softly, mindful of Laura who was rinsing off a plum to eat.

  “I know. It’s okay though.” He hugged her.

  “Mushy, mushy,” Laura said.

  “The plum?” Lewis asked.

  “No, you two.”

  “Caught in the kitchen,” Lewis said and pulled away. “Oh, my God.”

  “Let’s get the rest of this junk out of the car and strewn about the house,” Maggie said. She continued to talk as she stepped outside, “Where it will remain for many years to come and when I’m asked…” She was outside and Lewis couldn’t hear the rest.

  “I think she’s crazy,” Lewis said to Laura.

  After unloading the car, Lewis stood in the living room and observed the disorder. “You weren’t kidding,” he said to Maggie.

  “I’m serious about my clutter.”

  He looked at Laura. “Do I recall hearing something about a surprise?”

  “You’re not allowed in the kitchen,” Maggie said. “We’re making you a special meal.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Laura said, her hands on hips in tough pose.

  “I guess I’ll see if I can’t find the sofa and take myself a nap.” He looked at a pile of clothes on the sofa. “Where do you want me to put these things, Maggie?”

  “Just dump them on the floor. I don’t care.” With that, she and the child were gone into the kitchen.

  Dinner was special. Maggie prepared ham, black-eyed peas, wild rice, a spinach salad and a sweet potato pie. Lewis sat back and put his hands on his belly.

  “Ladies, that was the best meal I think I’ve eaten.”

  “It wasn’t bad,” Maggie said.

  Lewis got up and started clearing the table. While Laura ate a second small wedge of pie, Maggie carried some things into the kitchen after Lewis.

  “That was really something, Maggie. Thank you.”

  She stood close to him. “I love you, Lewis.”

  He smiled. “I love you, too. I have for some time. I don’t know what’s taken me so long to realize it.”

  “Age,” Maggie said. “It’s made you stupid.”

  Lewis kissed her.

  “Is it going to be dangerous tonight?” she asked.

  “No, not at all. I think Salvador and Ignacio Nunez are going to take me to their morada. I’m going to look at the body and I’m going to leave. That’s all.”

  “I’m scared.”

  Lewis felt badly for worrying her. He thought that if he had held off on this involvement of theirs, this stuff would be easier. But he had denied this woman and his feelings for as long as he could and perhaps it was this business that allowed him to take the step.

  “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lewis drove into town wondering what he would see and what might happen. He turned into the lot of the Best Western and saw that the blue Camaro was not there. He found Ernesto in the office.

  “Did Taylor say anything about when he’d be back?” Lewis asked before he was completely through the door.

  Ernesto looked him over closely, then swung his feet off the desk to the floor and stood. “Checked out.”

  “When?”

  “Couple of hours ago.” Ernesto turned to the key boxes and grabbed an envelope. “He told me to give you this.”

  Lewis opened it and unfolded the note. It said:

  Dear Mr. Mason,

  Please don’t get me wrong. I really appreciate how much you must have cared about my grandfather. I can’t do this stuff. I’m just a truck driver. I’m going back to Seattle. The sheriff talked to me. I believe he died in the river. He was an old man. I’m sorry you lost a friend. I’ve got to get back to my job. I hope you find what you ‘re looking for.

  Joseph Taylor

  “Everything okay?” Ernesto asked.

  Lewis balled up the note and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. “Yeah, fine.” He waved goodbye to Ernesto and stepped out into the night air. He looked up and tried to make out a couple of constellations. He found Cassiopeia low in the sky, then just the cap of Cepheus.
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  He got into his car. He looked back into the office as he waited to pull into the street and saw Ernesto using the phone. He drove downtown and parked in front of De la Peña’s Restaurant, a few blocks from Salvador’s shop. He walked past the ice cream parlor, crossed the street and went down the alley to the back of the House of Boots. Ignacio and Salvador were waiting beside a pickup.

  “I thought somebody was coming with you,” Ignacio said.

  “No, it’s just me.”

  Lewis didn’t think these men would hurt him, but he was glad he’d planted the suspicion that someone else knew with whom he was taking a ride. Salvador looked more nervous than the younger man.

  “Turn around,” Ignacio said, letting a scarf fall to its length from his hand. When Lewis complied, he wrapped it over his eyes and pulled it snug, as if to state again his disdain. Ignacio was a good five inches shorter than Lewis and so tied the scarf awkwardly low on the back of his head.

  “Can’t see a thing,” Lewis said.

  “Let’s go,” Salvador said.

  Lewis was helped into the truck. He sat between the two men. Lewis wondered if anyone would see and find interesting the sight of a blindfolded, black man seated between two Mexicans in a pickup in the middle of the night.

  Lewis caught himself instinctively trying to follow their route by noting turns and speed, but he stopped because he couldn’t keep it up and because he didn’t want to know where they were taking him. It was their secret and he didn’t want it. They made many turns, he thought, to confuse him. Once the sounds of other traffic were gone, the path was direct.

  They ended up on a washboard road. Dust floated freely through the cab. The truck skidded to a stop and Lewis was helped out. Someone was singing somewhere. Salvador talked to him, a hand on his shoulder.

  “Lewis, this is a velorio de difunto and it is very important to us.”

  Lewis nodded, still blindfolded.

  “Many of our members will not like it that you are here. Many of them will not notice. You will see things that are sacred, private. Please see as little as you can.” The old man sighed. “Promise me you say nothing to anyone.”

  “You have my word, Salvador. I have no wish to compromise you or your beliefs.”

  Ignacio pulled the scarf away from Lewis’ head.

  Lewis tried to aid his eyes in adjusting by opening them wide. He was standing in front of a one level adobe. A flame torch burned on either side of the doorway. There were several trucks and cars parked around in no particular order. The singing was coming from inside the building.

  “Do not look at anyone’s eyes, especially the rezador,” Ignacio said.

  Lewis didn’t understand.

  “The singer.”

  Lewis nodded, frightened by Ignacio’s hostility.

  “It would be best if you tried not to look at anyone at all,” Salvador said.

  “Okay.”

  Salvador and Ignacio looked at each other. Then Salvador led the way. Ignacio took Lewis’ arm. The room was lighted by more torches and the smell of incense was thick and sickly sweet. Figures moved about and Lewis tried not to see them or recognize them. He looked at Salvador’s back. He glanced ahead and saw the coffin, a simple, lidless box, but he couldn’t see the contents. The rezador was to the left of the coffin. Lewis caught his eyes drifting toward the chanting and pulled them back. Ignacio must have also detected the slip for he squeezed Lewis’ arm. Then, Lewis couldn’t help seeing the procession. Men marched in a wide circle around the body beating themselves. The beating kept time with the chanting. Most men used leather, one a chain. In the glow of the firelight Lewis saw two lacerated and bloody backs. The blood and the incense and strange light made him feel ill, dizzy and then he was standing over Martin.

  Salvador and Ignacio stood on either side of him and turned away from what he was doing. Lewis took a deep breath and this turned out to be a mistake for he took in a smell of death. He tasted bile and swallowed. The body was bloated, but Lewis thought not badly and then he wondered to what he was comparing it. The face was strange and lifeless, but it was Martin’s and he tried to avoid it. The body was naked and for this Lewis was thankful, for he did not have to touch it. On the dead man’s legs were several places where the flesh was raw, like burns, but the water had done things. Maybe he had even been nibbled at by fish.

  “Let’s go,” Ignacio said.

  Lewis was ready. “I’ll close my eyes and you lead me out,” he said.

  Salvador and Ignacio took either arm and walked him through the sick-sweet cloud and outside. Lewis felt faint when the clear air hit him, but the men held him up.

  “I’m okay,” Lewis said, finding his legs.

  “Did you see what you wanted?” Ignacio asked.

  Lewis nodded, walked to the pickup and leaned against it.

  “Are you all right?” Ignacio asked, his tone different.

  Lewis looked at him and found the eyes softer. “I’m fine. I want to thank you.” Lewis stood straight, looked out over the dessert. “Did you see his legs?”

  Salvador and Ignacio were silent.

  Lewis turned to face them. “Would you call those burns?”

  “Get in the truck and we’ll drive you back,” Ignacio said.

  “Didn’t you see the wounds?”

  “We cannot talk of the dead,” Salvador said.

  “I’m sorry,” Lewis said, then he had to say, “I think Martin was murdered. I found him dead before he showed up in the river, at his cabin. He was lying on the floor.” Lewis shook his head.

  Salvador sighed. “Martin is dead. God called to him and he is dead. It doesn’t matter how he died.” He looked back at the morada. “Please, I can’t talk about it.”

  Lewis raised a hand to silence the man. He didn’t want them frightened further. “I’m sorry.”

  Ignacio walked around and climbed into the cab. Lewis climbed in behind Salvador on the passenger side. He looked out the window at the morada as they rolled away.

  “Don’t you want to blindfold me?” Lewis asked.

  Ignacio pulled the scarf from his pocket and handed it across Salvador to Lewis. Lewis tied it around his head. He felt good about this. He felt trusted and that they all understood something together.

  Someone turned the radio on and voices sang in Spanish the way into town. They let Lewis out in front of the theater. Nothing was said and the two men drove away.

  Lewis went back to his car. There was a ticket on the windshield. He looked and saw that he had parked over the white line in the diagonal space, but not very far. He sat behind the wheel and studied the ticket under the dome light. It had been signed by Manny Mondragon.

  Lewis thought about Martin on the way home. He thought about how awful it must be to drown and halfway hoped that he had been hit on the head and killed instantly, not feeling anything. Then he considered not feeling anything. Martin had been a man full of life and would have wanted to fight, even if against the river. Just to have a chance is all anyone can ask. Maggie would laugh if she knew what he was thinking. She would laugh, but she would understand. She would think it herself.

  He wondered how much Manny suspected and how much he knew. He didn’t know how to think of the sheriff. Was he the enemy? Was there an enemy? He began to feel paranoid. The wounds on Martin’s legs were real though, regardless of the cause. But what difference did it make? Could he go to the sheriff or the state police and talk intelligently about any of this? Was he closer to any kind of answer? Had he even made Martin’s death easier to take? It seemed all he had really managed to do was spend precious time away from his granddaughter. All of this settled on him and he knew he couldn’t stop. There was something to be found out. Something bad had happened and something bad was going on. Everything smelled sour and he felt something evil lurking about.

  He considered the next day. He would put a horse in a trailer, drive it to Garapata Ridge and follow the trail down to Plata Creek and into the back end of the can
yon. He recalled the absence of animals in the canyon and a chill traveled over him. Suddenly, he was afraid of going alone. He couldn’t and wouldn’t ask Maggie. Besides, someone had to stay with Laura. Then he remembered Peabody. Maybe the vet would go and he was a perfect choice, a scientist, a man who knew animals. He looked at his watch. It was only ten-twenty. He was glad. Maggie could stop worrying. He would call Cyril when he got home.

  He could still hear the chanting of the rezador.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lewis managed to get dressed and out of the house without waking Maggie or Laura. Only some of the light of the day to come helped him as he took the battery from his car and put it into his truck. He backed the truck to the horse trailer. It was a two-horse, front-unloading trailer that he had bought after watching a man get stepped on trying to back a horse out of a tight place. He closed the horses off in the corral and went to get the tack from the shed. The saddles were in good shape. He grabbed a couple of curb bits; the horses hadn’t been ridden much lately and he’d need leverage on some of the slopes. Cyril Peabody had said he’d take the morning and ride with him. Lewis breathed easier knowing he wasn’t going alone. He went to the corral and saddled the mare without much trouble. The gelding was a little stubborn. The horse blew up his belly when Lewis went to tighten the front cinch. He didn’t want the cinches tight now, but he knew he’d have to poke the horse in the ribs when he cinched him. He loaded the animals into the trailer and left.

  Lewis had gone through the business with the horses without realizing how tired he was. He found during the drive down the mountain that his eyes wanted to close. He rubbed his eyes and the back of his neck, shook his head. Finally he just stopped and napped for about five minutes. When he awoke, he found that just those few minutes had allowed morning to come on fully. He enjoyed the rest of the drive to Cyril’s office on the outer-bounds of town. He stopped once to check the horses.

  Cyril was sitting in his Jeep in front of his office. He waved when he saw Lewis and got out. He carried a bag. He climbed into Lewis’ truck.

  “I brought us some food,” Cyril said.

  “I forgot all about food. Thanks.”