Silver Bullets (10 page)

Figueroa took the floor: I have called you here early because I believe we have to do something to make sure that whoever killed our colleague Bruno Canizales gets what he deserves, the police are so incompetent if we let things lie they are likely to drop the case. Brown-skinned, thin, dressed in white. We must not allow that to occur, we should write to the newspapers, get on the radio and talk up the issue, let's make sure everyone knows about it; I suggest we name two committees, one to speak to the Human Rights Commission and the other to sit down with the policeman in charge or with the girl, Agent Toledo, his assistant; if they play deaf we shall go to their superiors, whoever they are, or to the district attorney. In a white room at the USB center about ten people listened without interest; only Laura Frías and Dania Estrada were paying attention, the latter took the floor: We agree, our organization must not remain passive in the face of this tragedy, though we can't bring back our friend, we must not allow the crime to go unpunished, Laura and I will speak with the policeman and with Agent Toledo, the one who took our statements at Bruno's house; so, who would like to volunteer to write a letter to the editor? No one. A fly landed on a shoe.
How about a volunteer to go to Human Rights? No one either. I will write the letter, Figueroa conceded, I'll take it to Human Rights in memory of our colleague and to maintain the good name of the USB, and now let's move on to other business, the first item is should Dr. Ripalda continue coming? Since no one offered an opinion, Figueroa himself said yes, because meditation is very important for spiritual growth and in the new world everyone will have to do it; for the time being Ripalda could stay at his house. He then spoke at length about global warming and holes in the ozone layer, and no one paid him the least attention.

Leaving the meeting, Laura called Mendieta's number, but his cell phone was off.

Three in the afternoon. The sun was bright. In the México bookstore on Obregón Avenue he bought a copy of
Pedro Páramo
. Before reaching Canizales's house he stopped at Cotorra de la R for a ceviche with two beers and a conch dish, which did not sit well. As Rudy says, he reflected, for a meal to be really good it has to do a bit of harm.

He parked across from the entrance. The yellow tape was on the ground, and there were no guards. Without getting out, he contemplated the door, the open garage, the car, the flowers, the white fence. Here, they killed a man a few days ago, he thought, someone who knew him went in that door and shot him, someone he trusted, did he come in with him? Was he waiting inside or out? Did he turn up later? Why? Though it is tempting to think Aldana is guilty because he's a scaredy-cat, something tells me he was not the one; murderers lack something he has in spades: the ability to grieve. Besides, it does not look like a crime of passion; of course killers know how we categorize them, did he straighten things up? Right, fucking Palm, I'll have to use a notebook. Perfume. The criminal came in with him and killed him before he even got into his pajamas; no, he was waiting for
him; no, he killed him on his feet and held him up, then he laid him down. Too bad Montaño could not analyze his gastric juices or other body fluids, but it would have turned out the same, I suspect; that sort of evidence won't help pinpoint the murderer in this case. The gunshot was so well placed he must have taken it without a struggle; was there powder on his face? I mean, if they shot him point-blank it would have left something; and suppose it was the narcos? They would have made a huge mess, especially if Yoonohoo Valdés sent them, since he runs everything, he does not know the meaning of the word
moderation
. We are not going to find out about the powder either. Paola, did you kill him and then kill yourself the way you swore you would? Tell me. But you called after 4:30, what for? Of course, because it wasn't you. Who sells silver bullets in this city? Don Carlos has them all. Mariana Kelly was born in Guadalajara, in May she'll turn thirty-four. Could she be the one who got hold of the munitions? Did someone hire a hit man? Which one or ones not in the picture ordered the kill? The father who wants to be president, the brother who imitated him, the lawyer who is a bastard, the USB people, Laura, a housebreaker, his assistant Alfaro, a kid he picked up on Sinaloa Boulevard, how about me, the gangsta-wraps, Zelda, Pineda. We're all guilty until proved innocent. I ought to interrogate Yoonohoo Valdés.

He got out of the car and went to look at the sedan parked in the garage. Inside, above some wilted roses, a red light was winking insistently. The windshield was dirty, caked with dead insects, typical highway filth, the front grille the same; him so neat and the car is disgusting. He wrote in his little notebook: “dirty car.” One day I'll learn how to use the Palm. He opened the blue door to the house, where the lab found Jack the Ripper's prints, in other words all the possible prints in the world and good luck finding the culprit's. In the living room he admired the
Kijano painting, gray tones around a redheaded nymph. Every brushstroke was a homage to life, to sensuality, to the pleasures of being human. Paola Rodríguez? It could be. Even though the figure was tiny, in the redhead's eyes the artist managed to capture the emptiness evident in the photographs in her bedroom.

Would you go to bed with a depressive? No way, I like women who talk and talk tough.

The guest bedroom was impeccable, untouched. So was the bathroom. Nothing out of place. The study same story. The new computer still boxed up in the same place. He opened the drawers one by one. Not many papers. He paused at the December telephone bill. Local calls, long distance to Mexico City and to Palm Springs on the twenty-fourth. He put it in his pocket.

The bedroom where they found the body still looked the same, they had not even taken the sheets off the chair or cleaned up. He went over it all, first in his mind and then in the reality in front of his eyes. He had a feeling the two did not quite match, but he could not see how.

He called Guillermo Ortega's cell phone. No answer. Then he called Ortega's house. His wife said he was in the middle of a nap. Sarita, get him up if you would, I have an urgent request. Lefty, what's got into all of you, you're going to kill the man, he barely rests, poor thing, it seems people get themselves killed more than ever and my poor husband has to be on every case, don't you think he's sick and tired of seeing gangsta-wraps every day? Please, Sarita, it'll be quick, he can answer my question and then go back to sleep, I promise. You, you, just because you don't have anyone who takes care of you. Come on, don't be difficult, he must have already had his nap. Lefty, you are so inconsiderate. This had better be something important, it was Ortega's voice. Are you awake? This birdbrain woke me up with her yelling. Okay, the question: Did you look at Canizales's car?
I think so, a Vectra '04 or '05, clean as a whistle inside, covered in spiderwebs outside, I'll send you the results in a little while. What about the other rooms? Yes, but we didn't find anything, you know they practically threw us out. Listen, do me a big favor, there is a fragrance that is bothering me, I detected it in Canizales's bedroom and I can't forget it, it's still there, a strange aroma, strong, spicy, maybe you can help us. Why do you get so much pleasure out of making me work double? To keep your belly from growing. It's something else that's growing. Thanks, old buddy, sweet dreams.

As he entered his office, cavalry charge: What are you up to, lazybones? Working like an idiot, this year I'm going to win a gold star for sure. Didn't you turn out ambitious, and especially with that little boss they've given you, eh? Don't criticize my boss, asshole, you don't know him, he's the best conciliator in the world. And he's got a face like my balls. That is something only you and he would know. Listen, here's the news, your dancer vanished and I've got to work on a case of two fishermen at sea found full of lead from AKs, you can imagine where this one is headed; this morning I went to the dance school and talked to Aldana's classmates, listen, what great chicks they've got there, for the love of God, I could care less about a heart attack, I came out of there like a deer in the headlights, that director is a honey. You ought to sign up for a class. Your mother should take it, may she rest in peace, they laughed; in any case they thought he seemed normal the whole time, on Friday he was worn out like the rest of them, one thought she had seen him around midnight coming out of the Shrimp Bucket with a guy a little taller than him, but she's not sure; by the clock he could easily have gone to Culiacán to commit the murder and gotten back; he ate a lot in the Café Altazor, the owner's a journalist who is
always in a bad mood, I asked him and he said he saw him run out of the school, climb into an open-air taxi, a “pneumonia,” and disappear toward the docks; that's all. I thank you for it. I hope you understand that I'm accumulating brownie points so you'll bring me your partner Toledo, I like her behind, and those pointy little tits so she can nurse me the way I should have been. Sure. What was that woman doing in Traffic? She helped people cross the street. Whose idea was it to bring her over to the police? Mine, she has a spatial intelligence most of us would die for. Except you, who even went to university. And you who walked by it. Well, that's another reason why we'd understand each other, we'll get married and have many children with spatial intelligence and you will be their lucky godfather, listen, what happened to the blonde? What blonde? Kiss my balls, jerk-off, keep playing the fool and you'll see where it gets you. Don't exaggerate. See you later. Don't forget your sunscreen.

Angelita from the doorway: Boss, a Señor Abelardo Rodríguez is here to see you, he says he is Paola's father. Can I get you anything? If you go to the Oxxo bring me a coffee, he handed her a bill. Where is Zelda? She went for her Diet Coke. Could you spring for one for me? Even two if you want.

Señor Rodríguez came in wearing his khaki work clothes and steel-toed boots, smelling of alcohol. A promise is a debt, Lieutenant Mendieta, here is the permit, I can leave it with you or make a copy. Sit down for a moment, Señor Rodríguez, would you like a cold drink? Do you have coffee? I don't recommend it, our budget barely allows for colored water. That's no problem, he sat in a small chair to one side of a table on which a broken computer was collecting dust. You know I always carry my supply with me, the insinuation went unacknowledged. I see you are working. Despite my grief life goes on, how is the case of Attorney Canizales coming? It's got feet of lead, the shooter
turned out to be a slippery one, but he's going to fall for sure. I heard on
Eyes on the Night
that you're on to him. Those journalists live in a fantasy world, don't believe them. Well, I hope the case gets solved and it won't affect the engineer, who as you must know is looking to be his party's new candidate for the big chair. He would be the ideal candidate. They just need to let him. Señor Rodríguez, I still have a couple of questions about the death of your daughter, I didn't want to bother you, but since you are here: Do you think there is a connection between the two deaths, hers and the attorney's? I've thought so much about it, you know what Beatriz says about her threatening to do it if he left her and all that, but I just can't believe it. The guy was killed with a silver bullet. Well, there you go, where would my daughter get one of those? Where did Paola learn to shoot? I taught her when she was young, we were building a house in the mountains and she spent several days there practicing; then I realized she was depressive and I regretted it, unfortunately there was no way back. The night before her death, did you speak with her? No, in fact she didn't have supper with us, there were problems between her and her mother and she often preferred to eat alone. Did you go out that night or did you go to bed early? I went out to the office about nine, I had to close a deal in Tijuana around that time, you know over there it's an hour earlier, and my computer at home doesn't have a webcam; I came back at midnight more or less. Was someone with you in your office? The watchman, he answered everything with aplomb. Señor Rodríguez, thank you very much, leave the permit with me, please, I'll bring it to your house later on. Although we are suffering with our sorrows, it will be a pleasure to offer you a drink in a proper glass, those plastic ones were practically an insult. Delighted to repeat the experience, is your wife okay? She'll get over it, the one I see as sadder is my daughter, she's asking permission to
study theater in Mexico City. It is hard to lose a member of the family. They were really tight, those girls, so I'll probably let her go, if I wasn't able to pay for Paola to go to Spain, for Beatriz I'll make the effort. That seems a wise decision. Ah, the play she's in is called
My Dearest Girl
, I saw it yesterday. Do you recommend it? Not really, too much groping and that's my daughter up there. They said good-bye.

The permit had been issued by the National Defense Secretariat and was valid.

He felt no desire to remain at the office and it was too early to go for a drink. He tried to clear his mind by going through the notebook, but it was worse than the Palm. What is happening to me, have I turned into a moron? So he slipped out and twenty-two minutes later he was at the movies watching
Capote
. He tried to buy popcorn, but a shiver ran down his spine.

Six o'clock in the morning. Minerva entered her husband's tiny office carrying a steaming mug of coffee. Valdés was going over the accounts in a hundred-page school notebook; the desk was covered with bundles of dollars in different denominations. Good morning, how is the man of the house? Even the aroma is killing me, the old man picked up the mug and savored his first sip. Would you like to drink it here? Because you have a visitor. Who? Hildegardo Canizales, he says he has an appointment. That's right, call Ulysses, tell him to make the payments as usual and deposit the rest in any of the three banks I indicate and then make the transfer. Cayman Islands or Switzerland? United States, it's safer there, he knows, if he has any questions it's all in here, he tapped the notebook sitting on top of the money. Send the engineer to the bungalow in the garden. Are we going to give him our support? We'll see what he has to offer. Don't raise his hopes too high, you know what they say about that bungalow: Whoever you meet in there gets everything he wants. Come on, I met with the others in there. I wouldn't want you to get shanghaied. By the way, I think we won't be moving to the country. Why? The waters are all whipped up, I learned last night that the
federal government is about to get nasty. So? So I can't disappear until I negotiate the new rules. What are you going to do? I'll propose legalization, he smiled. Do you think they'll listen? Of course not, he smiled again. I understand.

Engineer Hildegardo Canizales accepted the drug lord's condolences with a contrite gesture: Thank you, Don Marcelo, he was my pride, a fine boy with a promising future; it is difficult to accept the ways of the Lord, but what can we do? Carry on, Engineer, there is no alternative, life continues and so do we, tell me what's on your mind. They sat down, Valdés served his guest coffee from a thermos and drank from his own mug; the bodyguards were on the alert. Members of the three wings of my party are interested in my running for the big chair, after the funeral of my son they came to my home with the proposal, at first I told them no and they smiled, I had to promise to think about it, they insisted that there was nothing to think about, he paused, Valdés watched him, his face a blank, I let them know that I could not make such an important decision without consulting you and that is the motive of my visit. Valdés gave an approving nod, sipped his coffee: It would be extraordinary if we could have you in the chair, the guy from your party who is running now I don't like one bit. Well, it is your decision, from now on the matter is in your hands. The drug lord nodded, understood that Canizales would make a good candidate, at least better than the others who had turned up looking for support, and far superior to the one who was at that moment out campaigning; maybe it would be worth risking the two billion it would cost to put a hopeful in the chair. Maybe. Engineer, I welcome your aspirations and I am prepared to invest whatever it takes, I am only going to impose one condition. You are in charge, Don Marcelo, I said as much and I repeat it. I want the
bankers and business in too, they never risk a thing, but when the pie comes out of the oven they always show up expecting their slice, and as you well know they never say they've had enough. You can count on it, Don Marcelo. I will send you a list so you'll know exactly who it is I want in. They drank again. There is one point that bothers me, Engineer, now his face was hard, if we are going to go for the big chair, I don't think it is in your interest to have the matter of your son in the media every day. That can be fixed, Señor Valdés, don't worry, District Attorney Bracamontes is dreaming of a promotion and he would do anything to get it. Well, that would not be at all bad.

When they left the bungalow, Canizales looked radiant. That was what the Gringo saw from the doorway of the small office where he was helping Ulysses carry the suitcases stuffed with bills.

Valdés looked happy too.