"Any and all indoctrination of our children will be done by us," he insisted, even though by us he really meant himself. In any case, he was a loving and tolerant father and wished to raise well-educated open-minded children, which is why he preferred to guide their religious views rather than leave the matter to the Church.
Finishing his preparations, Father Aguilar wondered aloud whether town officials would waste much time trying to solve this murder since they still hadn't resolved the theft of a small oil painting from the church by his predecessor. The old priest, nearing retirement, allowed greed or the desire to live out his last days in comfort, to get the better of him. One day three years ago, the priest disappeared along with one of the church's colonial paintings. The people of Cuamantla promised to kill the old priest if they ever found him despite Father Aguilar's several homilies on the sixth commandment.
At some point, the village officials called in the Federal Agency of Investigation in Tlaxcala, who to this day had found no trace of the priest or the painting. Their most recent account reported him in South America and the painting in the hands of a U.S. collector. AFI agents believed the theft was part of an international smuggling ring specializing in Mexican antiquities. According to the AFI agents, the ring protected itself by employing several layers of people, which made the case difficult to solve. Recently, however, they claimed to be making progress and promised an arrest soon.
A noise in the back of the sanctuary caught the priest's attention. He turned to see the body bearers enter, deep in discussion over the merits of leaving the murder investigation in the hands of Pedro's kinsmen and the officials from his home village, rather than involving local officials and necessarily, the Tlaxcala State Police. The men hesitated to share their opinion with the priest for fear he would disapprove. The group's appointed spokesman stepped forward.
"The Cuamantla officials want to wash their hands of this whole mess," the spokesman said, on behalf of the town council. "In our opinion, the village of Cuamantla will do better forgetting about Pedro García and his fateful if inevitable end," he added, with a slight note of defiance as the men waited for the priest's reaction.
To everyone's great relief, Father Aguilar agreed.
Chapter 15
A hushed silence spread over the schoolyard during Miguel's announcement of the death of Pedro. "With regard to the fiesta," Miguel explained, "the village officials have asked that we not wait for their return but continue with the festivities, which we now hold in honor of our friend and colleague, Pedro García Hernandez-Barrera, deceased Director of the morning primary school. We honor the dead by remembering and respecting their lives and living our own lives with honor. Let the Cinco de Mayo festival proceed. I now turn over the microphone to my friend and colleague, Maestra María Guadalupe Costanza, who will introduce the next event."
Anna focused her camera on Miguel as he handed the microphone to María. Dark glasses covered her reddened eyes. María returned to the microphone with her clipboard in hand, efficient and professional. Anna marveled at her composure. The woman must be made of steel. Miguel walked over to Anna and placed a casual arm around her waist in a way that made her heart to skip a beat. She had so many questions to ask him, starting with how this murder would be handled. When would a serious investigation begin? Who was collecting and preserving evidence? Why didn't they seal off the murder scene? Time was running out. Whatever evidence might exist certainly would be compromised by the end of the day, and where was the village Comandante in all this? Most likely, she realized, as another explosion rocked the area, he's with the pyrotechnics crew contributing to the surrealistic atmosphere of the day. Anna knew she was working herself into a snit as Miguel sat down beside her and fiddled with the sound equipment, but she felt justified.
"I need to talk to you," she whispered.
"I know," Miguel said, concentrating on the knobs and buttons in front of him, "you have many questions and I will answer them for you, but later, not now. Now, we must proceed as if nothing has happened, finish the fiesta as scheduled, attend the dinner at the house of the queen since her family members have spent many days and much money preparing for this event." He turned to face her, the stress of the day's events beginning to show on his face. "Tonight, after the festivities, I'll accompany you home and answer whatever questions you have. Life only stops for the dead," he said. "The living must go on living."
Anna objected. "Tonight will be too late." Her whispers increased in volume matching her anxiety levels. "The evidence will be destroyed. How will the police solve Pedro's murder if they don't cordon off the murder site now, take samples of footprints, ferret out whatever clues might exist? And what about the bullet or bullets? Have they even begun looking for them?"
"Not now, Maestra." Miguel responded with more sternness than she might have anticipated. "I promise you, everything will be okay. Trust me. What has to be done will be done in good time. Right now we must finish the fiesta. After that, we can concentrate on who killed Pedro. Please don't make things more difficult and I promise you will learn everything you want to know. You're in Mexico now, not the United States, please remember that. Our customs are different. When you're with us you need to follow the rules of our country, the rules of this village. I shouldn't have to remind you of that."
Miguel's voice remained at whisper level despite its gravity. Anna felt like an upbraided child and for the first time felt some hostility toward Miguel. He had no right to speak to her in that tone when her concern was legitimate. Even Pedro deserved justice, but more so, María and Yolanda. She glanced over at María, in awe of her calm complacency. Is everyone in rural Mexico socialized for martyrdom, she wondered? Culture or no culture, Miguel was not getting off the hook. Murder was murder after all. Cultural relativism extended only so far.
Mercifully, the program ended ahead of schedule. Anna packed up her equipment and headed over to the school office joining the teachers waiting for Miguel who was busy fending off a long line of parents and students. As she organized her gear and thought about her morning filming, a disturbing thought struck her. The miniDVD in her bag might contain a shot of the murderer entering or leaving the rose garden, the place where Pedro's body was found. If so, maybe her video could limit the number of suspects who might have killed Pedro, a realization that brought an unexpected wave of fear.
What if the murderer saw her filming him and at some point realized her video contained evidence against him? She filmed everywhere. No one could help but notice. She had to talk Miguel. They needed to contact the State Police as soon as possible. A murderer was loose and he might be after her. If the theft of the Real Cédula is related to Pedro's murder, I might be in double jeopardy. She picked up her cell phone to place another call to Art and saw a message.
"Annie, it's me." The stridency of Art's voice assaulted her ear. "I've got my airline tickets. I arrive in Tlaxcala tomorrow. If you need to contact me, better send an email." Just what she needed, the stress of a visit from Art. She agonized about her video evidence and Art's impending visit while she waited for Miguel, unsure which upset her more. After Miguel dismissed the last parent, Anna intercepted him on his way to the office.
"Miguel, please. I have something important to tell you."
He looked at her in amusement, reaching for her arms and backing her away from him as if she were one of his students. "You, too, Maestra? Everyone has a theory about who murdered our compadre. Come, tell me, what is yours?"
"I have no theory about the murder," she said, choosing to ignore his patronizing tone. "This is serious. Please listen to me."
"I'm listening, tell me. Seriously."
"First, I think we both may be in danger. I realized when I packed up my camcorder that I may have filmed the murderer this morning. If so, and if the same thought occurs to Pedro's killer, then he or she, I guess it could have been a she but I don't think so, may stop at nothing to confiscate my camera and DVDs. I'm very worried."
Miguel dropped his hands and stared at her.
"Two things." She went on, hurrying to make her points. "First, we need to find a way to keep the DVDs safe, and second, I'm wondering if tomorrow morning you can go with me to the police."
"Yes, but I think we should review the film first."
"We can look at it on my laptop, but I'd rather review it on a large screen, which we can do at the library. That way we can pick out individual faces in the crowd and look for incriminating information. What do you say? I mean, even if we can't actually pinpoint the murderer going into the rose garden, maybe other clues on the video might lead to his identity, or her identity, although I don't really believe it's a her."
"So you said, Anna, but I wouldn't be so sure."
Anna wondered whether he meant María, but if so, she wasn't biting. María didn't kill Pedro. Anna was as certain of that as she was certain of Miguel's innocence. She knew people. Not everyone with motive acts on it.
"Tomorrow morning isn't a good time," Miguel said. "I have to be in Pedro's village for the funeral ceremonies tomorrow afternoon. You're not required to attend unless you wish. Of course, this may be your only chance to attend a Mexican funeral, but whatever pleases you, Maestra."
"Oh dear." Anna groaned. "When are you leaving and how is everyone traveling? By bus or car?"
"I've already talked with some of the teachers and we're meeting here at eleven and driving in caravan in case someone has car trouble, and also, to discourage bandits."
"Bandits? Are you serious?"
"Very serious, Maestra. We'll be traveling through rugged terrain between here and Pedro's village. Some of those areas are notorious for drug runners. We'll be fine as long as we travel together. It's about a two-hour ride to the village of San Juan Zocatlo in the State of Vera Cruz. If you want to come along, I can stop by your house about 9:30 and travel with you on the morning bus to Apizaco."
"How about this instead? We meet at the library in Tlaxcala at 8:00, view the video then hire a taxi to get us here by eleven. I'll pay for the taxi and I'll buy breakfast as well. Surely, you won't turn down that offer."
Miguel looked thoughtful. "Yes, Maestra. I guess that would work, but I'm buying breakfast, and we'll share the taxi costs to Cuamantla. How's that?"
"Great." She tried to smile but she worried about her safety between now and the morning.
"I think your idea of viewing the video on a large screen is worthwhile," Miguel added. "We can meet at 8:30 at the Café Los Portales in the zócalo."
"Sounds good to me."
"I want to talk with you about a few other matters as well. However, let's join the teachers before they get the wrong idea." He winked and gently turned her shoulders propelling her in the direction of the school office. He's hardly disabusing them of the wrong idea, she thought, following alongside him. What were the other matters he mentioned? They sounded personal. She hoped he wasn't planning to withdraw his support for her research in Cuamantla. That would be a disaster for her at this stage. She needed to start a worry list, write down her concerns and check them off one at a time if and when they happened. Seeing her doubts and fears in writing might separate them from the imagination station in her brain and alleviate some of her stress.
Chapter 16
Anna joined the group of teachers who gathered their belongings from the office and with Miguel in the lead, formed a solemn group making their way up the cobblestone hill to the house of the fiesta queen. Hardly a ‘fiesta spirit,' Anna noted, wondering whether María would join them at the queen's house. She wouldn't be surprised either way.
Halfway up the hill, María called out to the group. Everyone turned and waited for her to join them. "I'm so sorry," María apologized, catching her breath as she reached her colleagues. "The students were slow cleaning up as usual or I would have joined you sooner. Thanks for waiting."
"Not a problem," someone replied.
Anna noticed no one extending sympathy to María over the death of Pedro.
"Where are your children, Maestra?" Anna whispered.
"I took them to their nanny earlier," María said. "They were upset about missing the fiesta, but I told them there's always another fiesta. Besides, I promised to take them shopping this weekend and buy them each a favorite toy if they would be good and spend the day at their nanny's house. I know I shouldn't bribe them and usually I don't, but today is different, to put it mildly. How did you like the fiesta?" María changed the subject more brightly than usual, causing Anna to wonder what drugs were seeing her through the day. Unlike the U.S., almost anything could be bought over the counter and the teachers frequently exchanged medications with each other.
"I loved the fiesta," Anna said, reaching for a level of normalcy in their conversation. "The students did a great job. You trained them well."
"Bueno, but as you know everyone had a hand." Underlining that thought, María turned her attention to the teacher walking beside her. "Juan, the dances were superb. You must be very proud of your students."
Juan Córdova smiled and put his arm around María's waist. Anna knew the two were good friends, but now she wondered if there might be more to their friendship than she realized.
"Gracias, Maestra," Juan said. "Yes, I agree, if I can say so with all humility. My students love the native dances, which they prefer to mathematics. So I promise them that if they do their mathematics, they can go outside and practice their dances. Now that the fiesta is over, I'm not sure how I'll entice them to concentrate on their studies."
María laughed. "Yes, I know what you mean. My first graders are no different. Fortunately, my own children love numbers. I can barely keep them supplied with activity books."
Anna wondered why María prevented her children from attending the fiesta since she wouldn't have known of Pedro's death when she made the decision. Pedro was still alive when she dropped them off with their nanny. Maybe she didn't want the responsibility of the children interfering with her fiesta duties? What was the nature of the children's relationship with Pedro, Anna wondered, and how would his death affect them?
She had so many questions—about the villagers and their hatred of Pedro, about Yolanda, even about María and her relationship with Juan Córdova, which seemed awfully cozy at the moment. She hated suspecting her friends and tried to dismiss the idea from her mind. When she talked with Miguel later, she would ask for his ideas on who murdered Pedro. She hoped he would be sober enough to answer.
The aroma of fried onions and smoky mesquite signaled the group's arrival at the queen's adobe style casa, large by Cuamantla standards. Miguel led the teachers to the back of the house where a large crowd gathered. The expansive walled backyard adjoined the family's cornfields where a wooden gate stood open. Anna could see a knot of men standing over an enormous smoking pit. Miguel caught her eye and explained they would be feasting on barbequed goat. Anna never tasted the barbacoa dish that was a specialty of the area, although she'd sampled a version made with rabbit at one of the restaurants in the city of Tlaxcala.
"Barbequed goat is a real treat," Miguel assured her, "especially when prepared in the traditional manner, roasted in a pit in the ground. The procedure is an elaborate one taking about six hours so the men will have begun early this morning."
Anna was struck by the simple elegance of the setting. Three plywood tabletops rested on wooden sawhorses, each makeshift table capable of seating twenty people. White bed sheets served as tablecloths and canopies, shielding guests from the hot afternoon sun. The scene resembled a suave cocktail party with everyone including small children chatting with a drink in their hands.
María and Juan sat beside Anna at the dignitaries' table, while the education officials, including union member Tomás Bello, surrounded Miguel. Anna remembered seeing Bello chatting briefly with Pedro before he entered the rose garden. She wondered if their exchange had anything to do with Pedro's murder. She tried without success to shake off thoughts of the murder. Everyone was a suspect in he
r mind.
The dinner proceeded normally, adding to the dreamlike quality of the setting. Surely someone must be concerned about Pedro's murder. She noticed María pop more pills during the after-dinner speeches. Emotionally exhausted herself, Anna decided against staying in Cuamantla with Miguel for the evening fireworks display, which turned out to be a good decision since María asked if they might leave together.
"Yes, thank you, Maestra," Anna told her. "I'm too tired to stay any longer. Give me a minute to tell Miguel I'm leaving and to thank Señor Gomez and I'll join you." Anna made her way to the head table. Her host seemed pleased to hear she enjoyed herself and asked if she might send him copies of the video and the photos. Anna assured him she would, fully intending to do so if her budget could afford it. "María and I are leaving now," she told Miguel, who tried to persuade her to stay for the fireworks. "I can't, I'm too tired."
"Is it okay if I stop by your house later so we can talk?" Miguel seemed intent on meeting with her tonight.
"That's fine, Miguel," she said, wondering if she could stay awake that long.
"It might be late," he warned. "After ten, and I might be a little drunk."
"As long as you're sufficiently sober to answer my questions and make plans for the morning, I can handle it. If I don't answer, keep knocking in case I've fallen asleep."
"No problem, Anna. Until later." He gave her another mischievous wink, but she pretended not to notice.
Chapter 17
Dusk had fallen by the time Anna left the party in search of María. She found María standing near the corner of the queen's house talking with Juan. María motioned Anna over as she reached out to shake hands with Juan who hugged her instead.
"Thanks for waiting for me Anna. I didn't want to leave the party alone and I didn't want people to see me leaving with Maestro Juan as kind as he is."
A Corpse for Cuamantla Page 6
