A Corpse for Cuamantla

by Harol Marshall

  The two men had compared notes on Pedro's vices. "Sooner or later," Enrico pointed out to his friend Jesus, "La Malinche exacts her price."

  "The price is a little steep for the level of Pedro's crimes, wouldn't you say?" Jesus replied, feeling some sympathy for the dead man. "He was an opportunist, but not a bad person, not in the sense of evil or wicked, just a con artist always pushing the limits."

  "This time the limits pushed back," Enrico said, still reeling from the news.

  "Aren't you worried Pedro's death will jeopardize our new jobs?" Jesus asked.

  The thought never occurred to Enrico. "No," Enrico said, "the Education officials have promised. Our names appeared on the roster of new appointments. They can't hold back now. Our jobs are safe."

  "Don't be so sure," Jesus cautioned. "Tomás Bello is one tough SOB. Don't count him out. Union officials have plenty of pull. Frankly, I think Pedro might have been our protection. I never trusted him, but at least he was reasonable and only extorted what we could afford to pay. This Bello is a viper and a dumb one at that. No, my friend," Jesus had said, "Pedro's death will not benefit us."

  §

  Nor was Tomás Bello sleeping well that bizarre night, but then, classic insomniacs never do.

  §

  Despite having slept on the taxi ride back to his village, Miguel managed to drift into a deep dark dreamless sleep, memories of the sweet smell of a certain Maestra overcoming the worries of the day.

  Chapter 27

  In Cuamantla, the Sánchez family put in a troubled night even though to a person they were exhausted. Arnulfo and Antonia lay side-by-side discussing in quiet tones Arnulfo's evening meeting with the Municipal President and village officials.

  "The pipilitzin were very sympathetic," Arnulfo reported to his worried spouse. "They understand how young men can be driven to commit unwise acts, particularly where a scoundrel like García is concerned. They will do what they can," he assured her. "This will cost us something, of course, but the costs will be reasonable considering the alternatives. Furthermore, if Francisco and Diego can extract a confession from Diego's Mexico City friend indicating he acted alone, the pipilitzin will arrange matters so that neither boy will be forced to leave the community."

  Antonia wept softly knowing their only hope lay in the mercy of the village officials, a costly mercy, but a mercy nonetheless.

  §

  In the next room, Francisco lay on his back, wide-awake, angry and frustrated. Why had Diego's friend gone so far? They agreed only to rough up the Director, steal his wallet maybe, teach him a lesson. Murder was not part of the plan. Why hadn't Diego objected when his friend Raúl's deed became clear, rather than hand him the contents of the Director's wallet?

  Francisco disliked the Director as much as Diego, but he never wanted him dead, nor was he willing to be part of such a heinous crime. He only agreed to serve as a lookout, help out his brother-in-law while Raúl took advantage of an unexpected opportunity to catch the Director alone with his pants down. No, Francisco hadn't bargained on murder, especially not the murder of a school official. Diego, Francisco concluded, was even more foolish than his sister Olivia, improbable as the idea might seem. What would happen now? He hated the thought of jail and he didn't want to move to Mexico City, or worse, head for the border. He loved Cuamantla. It was his home. Now he was in danger of losing everything for the sake of his witless sister's honor and that of her equally obtuse lover, neither of whom possessed any honor to preserve in Francisco's opinion.

  Besides, Francisco knew the Director was right when he accused the pair of tricking him. No doubt the Director slept with Olivia. She was as beautiful on the outside as she was dimwitted on the inside, that fact he couldn't deny. But knowing Olivia, she extended the invitation, and unknown to Olivia, Francisco had spotted something his parents and others missed. He noticed it the first time he cradled his newborn nephew in his arms. The little finger on the baby's left hand curved inward. Just like the curved little finger on Diego's left hand. Maybe Diego and his sister could blackmail the Director and fool everyone else, but Francisco knew who fathered his little nephew, and he knew why the baby arrived in the world ahead of schedule.

  If Diego and Raúl were here right now he'd ring their necks just like he throttled the chickens for his mother's table. But they were in Mexico City, and Francisco faced a tough day tomorrow. After his father returned home from the fields, the two of them would leave for Mexico City to find Diego and Diego's friend Raúl, murderer of Pedro García. Francisco needed to get some sleep, but worries about his future kept his mind awake.

  §

  Sleep was the farthest thing from the minds of Diego and Raúl, absorbed as they were in touring Mexico City's nightspots celebrating their good fortune, the very large wad of pesos stuffed neatly into several compartments of the dead man Pedro's wallet.

  Chapter 28

  Anna woke in a panic and lay terrifyingly still listening to a series of stealthy sounds issuing from the next room. Something or someone moved around in the study. A desk drawer opened and closed, not something the possum could manage, smart as it seemed to be. Stricken with fear, she knew she had to get out of the house before whoever was in the study came back to the bedroom. She glanced at the bedroom doors. They were closed and locked. How did an intruder enter her house? Did she forget to close the kitchen door? Forget to lock it when she came in from the bathroom? Her panicked brain couldn't remember. It didn't matter. She needed to act quickly. The kitchen provided her only escape route.

  She felt under her pillow for the Kali baton. For the first time in her months of living in Mexico, good sense and not paranoia had led her to keep the baton in bed with her. If she couldn't get out of the house, she would have to confront her intruder and she needed to be armed. She wished she had a knife since she was experienced in Kali knife fighting, but she could inflict serious bodily harm with a baton. At least it would give her a fighting chance even if the intruder were armed. Defending against a gun was easy if the person were close. Not so from several feet away. All this ran through her head as she plotted her escape up and over the roof. If she could just beat him to the roof. She prayed he didn't have a gun.

  Gripping her baton, she slipped her legs over the edge of the bed tiptoeing the short distance to the kitchen door thankful for the darkness and concrete floors that didn't squeak. She needed to be quick. Opening the metal door couldn't be done quietly. Her life depended on speed. Reaching the kitchen door, she threw back the latch and pushed through the door, racing the six feet to the stairs. As her foot hit the bottom step, she heard the kitchen door bang back against the wall and knew her stalker was right behind her.

  She took the steps two at a time reaching the roof just as her pursuer's hand grabbed the back of her left ankle. In one desperate swoop, she smashed the baton against his wrist then moved up to what she thought was his head. Her attacker groaned and eased his grip enough to allow her to lunge free. She sprinted the width of the roof and leaped the six feet down into the soft dirt of the Portillo's hillside courtyard, screaming for help. Ignoring her throbbing left ankle and the courtyard chickens, she scrambled to the kitchen door praying the nearby popping noises were fiesta fireworks and not bullets aimed at her head. David threw open the kitchen door and for the second time that night she stumbled sobbing into Marianna's arms.

  "There's a man in my house," she cried, "a thief. He chased me up the stairs when I tried to escape. I should have listened to Miguel and to you, Señora, and spent the night here." Before she could finish, David grabbed his machete and a kitchen chair and raced into the courtyard. "He might have a gun," Anna yelled. Marianna screamed for her husband to be careful and not get himself killed.

  David ignored their warnings and hoisted himself onto the roof of Anna's house intent on intercepting her assailant. Inside the kitchen, Marianna reached up and removed two shawls from a hook on the wall. "Put this rebozo over your shoulders, niña, and hurry," she said, "
we have to recruit our neighbors to help my spouse." Anna hobbled after her, only now aware of the searing pain in her left ankle.

  A cacophony of barking roof dogs greeted the two women as neighbors emerged from their houses to investigate the commotion. The front door to Anna's house swung open and David emerged to announce the thief had escaped. A group of neighbors circled around wanting to know what happened while David questioned everyone on what they might have seen or heard.

  "Someone tried to rob la Americana," he explained. "By the time I reached the house, the thief had fled. I don't know what he stole, but the Maestra's backpack seems to be missing." David asked whether anyone noticed a man carrying a backpack like the one the Maestra uses. One after another members of the gathering group nodded their heads and reported they'd seen and heard nothing.

  "The thief could have run up the hill to a waiting car at the Tlaxcala road," one person suggested.

  "Maybe he ran down to the river," offered another.

  Marianna pointed to the roof dog racket coming from behind Anna's house and theorized the thief ran off in that direction.

  Anna remembered the earlier noises and told Marianna she agreed with her analysis. "I've never been in that section of Belén," she added. "Where do the roads lead?"

  "To Tlaxcala, Maestra. There's a back road through the village of Atlixtla and from there to the Tlaxcala Road, but it is the long way and dangerous."

  "A thief who chooses the back roads must be familiar with the village, right, Señora?

  "Correct, Anna. Every place has its thieves. Sometimes they're known to us and sometimes not. What are you thinking?"

  "Well, I'm trying to figure out whether or not the intruder lives nearby. If not, he might be the person who murdered Pedro. In that case, he was after my DVD's and not after me."

  "Anyone who breaks into a house is dangerous," Marianna said. "He may have been a local thief who was looking for money, but who knows? Whoever he is and whatever he was after, Anna, he could have killed you if you hadn't gotten away."

  Anna considered Marianna's observations, but she wasn't convinced about the idea of a local thief. "I suppose there's a chance the break-in has nothing to do with the murder in Cuamantla," she said, "but I don't like coincidences."

  Chapter 29

  Anna and Marianna stood in the street watching David escort the neighbors through Anna's front door on a group inspection tour. After a few minutes the two women joined the neighbors in the study where David pointed out the rifled papers and open desk drawers. Anna looked at the mess and wondered what the thief had stolen. She desperately wanted to check on her backpack hidden under the bed but not with this crowd of witnesses.

  Her valuables—money, camcorder, cell phone and the contents of her pack were locked in a black box bolted to the wall under the bed, one of Art's security measures. He would have a royal fit when he heard about the break-in, one more thing to contend with on his arrival in Tlaxcala tomorrow. She wondered if he planned to stay at the house in Belén or with his family in the city of Tlaxcala.

  The neighbors marched on through the house and she followed them into her bedroom where the contents of all four of her dresser drawers lay strewn about the floor. Everyone stood around surveying her belongings, shirts, slacks, and underwear. She began to feel violated. A chorus of tsks-tsks permeated the small area as villagers shook their heads in dismay at such impropriety in their tiny hamlet. Eventually the discussion turned to what to do next. For starters, everyone agreed Anna should spend the night at the Portillo's house.

  "Don't worry, Maestra, the men can stay here guarding your house in case this thief returns," one of the women said, offering the services of her husband. He smiled his agreement. Did Anna know what was stolen?

  "No," she said, wishing they would leave so she could search in private. " I think the thief was after my money, which means he must be very disappointed right now." The group chuckled and nodded knowingly.

  Once everyone ran out of questions and decisions on Anna's behalf, Marianna encouraged them to leave, promising she would stay and help Anna straighten up the mess.

  "The Maestra will want to search her belongings in private," Marianna said, discouraging the more curious who made no move to go. "And, yes," she assured them, "Anna will spend the night next door." Meanwhile, she suggested the men go outside and make certain no strangers lurked in the area before devising a schedule of guards for the remainder of the night.

  Anna intervened. "Do we really need a contingent? Maybe Sr. Portillo and I can exchange places. He could sleep at my place and I'll sleep next door with you." She raised her eyebrows in David's direction, pleased to see his head bobbing up and down.

  "Not a problem, Maestra." David said, shooing out the well-meaning group. "Vámanos," he told them, flicking his fingers in the direction of the door. Curiosity satisfied, the neighbors trooped back to the street where they stood chatting among themselves for at least the time it took Anna and Marianna to restore order.

  As soon as the door closed, Anna checked under the bed relieved to find both her backpack and the black box of valuables untouched. She inspected the dresser. The DVD remained securely attached to the bottom panel. In some respects, she wished the thief had found it so she wouldn't have to worry about another try. She expressed her anxiety to Marianna, who decided David should not be alone in the house. Taking matters into her own hands, Marianna went outside and recruited Vicente Diaz, the neighbor from across the street.

  "Bueno," she confided to Anna with a laugh when she returned, "Sr. Diaz is delighted to help. I think I appealed to his sense of adventure. God knows the man could use a little excitement in his life, living with that woman. Now, niña, let's go home to bed. You can sleep in Eva's room, she won't mind. Besides," she chuckled again, "even if she did, she's in Mexico City. What can she do about it?"

  Despite the comfort of Eva's bed and the warmth of the Portillo's house, Anna slept poorly. Nightmares plagued her slumber leaving her emotionally exhausted by morning.

  §

  Like Anna, Marianna Portillo tossed and turned throughout the night, needlessly worrying about her husband's safety. In Anna's house next door, David and Vicente slept in three-hour shifts, each in turn secretly enjoying the sweet scents of Anna's bed linens. In response to their vigil or because he found what he wanted, or for reasons known only to him, the thief never returned.

  Chapter 30

  At exactly 8:15 in the morning on the sixth of May, Señor David Portillo parked his car at the curb in front of the Café Los Portales at Plaza de la Constitución No. 8 in the city of Tlaxcala. He turned on the emergency flashers and hurried around the front of the car to open the passenger door for Anna.

  Miguel sat at an outdoor table next to the wall waiting for Anna to step off the Apizaco-Tlaxcala bus now entering the zócalo. Leaning on his elbows, he wondered whether the driver rushing to open the door of the illegally parked sedan in front of him might get slapped with a ticket from the over zealous traffic cop whistling and pointing in his direction. A crutch emerged from the passenger's side piquing his interest. He watched the driver help the passenger out of the car, a passenger he recognized.

  "Anna," he hollered, leaping up and nearly knocking over an elderly couple entering the restaurant. "I'm sorry," he apologized, reaching out to steady the old man.

  "What happened, querida?"

  Anna looked up in surprise at the sound of Miguel's voice. "Good morning, Miguel. Please don't worry, it's not that bad," she said. "I'll explain everything. First, I want you to meet my next door neighbor, Sr. David Portillo who's been a great help to me over the last several hours."

  The two men shook hands while Anna hoped David hadn't noticed Miguel's affectionate greeting. If so, she would have a lot of explaining to do for Marianna.

  "Can I be of any more help, Maestra?" David asked, momentarily distracted by the traffic officer's shouts to move his car.

  "Thanks. You've done too much for me
already. I'll see you tomorrow when we return from Zocatlo. Please thank Señora Portillo again for taking care of my ankle and ask her not to worry. Miguel will see that I'm safe."

  "Indeed, Señor, the Maestra is in good hands," Miguel said, shaking hands before David raced for the driver's seat in time to prevent the local transit officer from relieving his car of its license plate. David pulled away from the curb to a serenade of discordant whistles from the disappointed officer.

  Miguel guided Anna to one of the tables under the portico. "Is this okay or would you rather sit inside?"

  "This is fine, Miguel. It's more interesting out here. I like watching the traffic police."

  "I don't know what to say," Miguel said, slumping into the chair next to her, looking dejected, "except that I shouldn't have left you alone last night. What happened to your leg?"

  "Not true, Miguel. It's not your fault. We have a lot to talk about over breakfast, so let's get some food. The breakfast smells are making my stomach grumble. I'm starving."

  While the waiter stood by, Miguel leaned her crutches against one of the portal columns trying to prevent them from falling into the street.

  "Buenos días, Señor, Señorita, can I bring you coffee?" The waiter hovered over them.

  "Yes, please," they said, looking over the menu.

  "Anna, are you okay? I don't understand about the crutches."

  "Miguel, really I'm fine. In fact, I don't need these crutches. My ankle is feeling better already. I turned it last night when I jumped off the roof into the Portillo's courtyard."