Silver Bullets (3 page)

Laura Frías came back from the ladies' room lightly made up: red lips, pleasant face. Sadness had laid waste to her black eyes and the timbre of her voice. Thin. She was wearing light-blue pants and a white blouse. Mendieta liked that, a woman who thinks of her appearance is at least a dreamer. Chestnut hair to her collar and a certain mischievousness around her mouth. They ate, she a Caesar salad with extra dressing, he Black Forest on a baguette, orange juice, and coffee. She told him she lived alone, had studied psychology, and loved the simple life. In 1900 she would have been happy working as a nurse, wearing those uniforms that came down to your ankles, eating vegetables grown without fertilizers. No doubt you would have been Porfirio Díaz's lover, and he wouldn't have let you eat this for breakfast. I also wouldn't be suffering about Bruno, she turned to look at the coffee grinder a few steps from the table, even if I don't like the stuff I love that aroma. Were you really just friends? Yes, even if that seems strange to you, why do men always think there's more? Don't women? It depends. Where did he have his office? At Social Security, we told you, he was a legal adviser. Do you know if he went to work yesterday? He was always working,
he was ground to a powder by the end of the week. Did he have an assistant? Mónica Alfaro, a lawyer. Mendieta called Angelita, his secretary, and asked her to find out what time Canizales had left the office the day before. Who do you think killed him?

He was a friend, a true friend, his life was unlucky, but it shouldn't have ended like that, two tears rolled down her cheeks, she looked again at the coffee grinder, he was kind, attentive, generous; several times I asked him to straighten up, I knew his wild ways would not lead to anything good, especially in his case since people in the USB looked up to him, his family, too; he only smiled, I think deep down he hated peace and quiet and preferred strong emotions, things that overwhelm you and keep you on edge; for about six months he had a girlfriend, a beautiful but tempestuous girl with a suicidal urge; her name is Paola Rodríguez, twice I heard her threaten to kill him and then kill herself if he ever left her, incredibly demanding, when he finally did it was a big drama, she'd turn up at his house at three in the morning, she'd show up at his parties, find him at his office, at the movies; she would not leave him alone; one day we were at the Chuparrosa Enamorada and she threatened to take off all her clothes right there if he wouldn't go someplace with her I can't remember where; that's how she took it, poor woman, until she finally calmed down; I think she still called him now and again, but you could say she'd decided to leave him be. Hmm. He was also involved with Samantha Valdés, the widow of a narco that got killed in Nogales, you must know about that, I think he was with the Camargos; at first Bruno seemed happy, as I said he liked to live on the edge, he lived for excitement, but later on when her father sent his thugs to threaten him he tried to put some distance between them; I don't know how much he managed to, the girl is strong-willed, she's got a seven-year-old boy who adored him; once one of the bodyguards put an AK to his
head, he told them it was not his doing, they should talk to her so she wouldn't chase after him, but the guy said if he continued seeing her they'd blow him to kingdom come; Samantha's bisexual, sometime later a woman turned up at his house and threatened him the same way, if she found out he was bothering her girl he'd find out who she was, her name is Mariana Kelly; he was scared, I think she drew a pistol on him; he was bisexual too, for long periods he was totally in love with a stupendous dancer, Frank Aldana, they had a relationship, but he always went back to the girls and Frank would fall apart, he'd cry, he'd threaten, poor guy, he'd whine about Bruno's lack of commitment and all that he made him suffer; as you can see, Bruno led a pretty dynamic life.

Who nominated him for professional of the year? The law society he belonged to. How long was he on the Citizens' Safety Council? Not long, maybe three months, he crossed somebody and figured it was better to get out, he was an idealist that way, he believed he could put an end to the violence. Who did he have trouble with? I never knew. He asked for another juice.

The Miró was full of housewives talking in loud voices.

Is Samantha the daughter of Marcelo Valdés? No more, no less; I saw her once in the Arcos, we were celebrating my birthday when she came in with two men, they sat in a corner peaceably enough and the bodyguards came in right after, we thought they would close down the restaurant and pay all the bills like they say they do, but no, everything was normal as could be, they ate and they left without any fuss. Who do you think killed Bruno? Isn't it your job to figure that out? I have nothing to go on, but you do; since it happened in his bedroom, barefoot but with his clothes on and everything neat and tidy, it could have been someone he trusted. Well, you tell me, of all the ones I've mentioned which one do you like? Maybe he had new friends?
I didn't meet any. Just what does Ripalda do? What he said, he gives courses on meditation. Why did he stay with Canizales? To save money, the USB is not an organization with a lot of resources, her expression was frank and she spoke with confidence. What about Figueroa? He just administers the USB, he's a good yoga teacher. Give me the telephone numbers of these people. I don't have them, but they must be in Bruno's appointment book, look for it in his briefcase, which he usually left in the car, I brought it to him several times. Did you stay at his house? Many times, listen, when are they going to hand over the body? The brother and the family lawyer are coming for it and you know they don't live here. Do you know them? I went with Bruno to his parents' house a few times, it's a mansion in the middle of an orchard. How did Bruno get along with them? His father was sort of stubborn, but his mother adored him; he had no problems with his brother.

He called Zelda: Look in Canizales's appointment book or on his cell phone for the telephones of the following people. He read out the list. Boss, Dr. Montaño already worked it out with the family lawyer, he's about to give them the body, the funeral home people have been here for a while, the techies all left. Did they look at the car? I don't know. Okay, I'll see you in a little while. He hung up; so, in what way was Bruno an example to his family? His only brother followed in his footsteps and became a lawyer. Did they work together? No, Joaquín takes care of the family business. But they have a lawyer. Attorney Beltrán, someone Bruno detested, he said he was just a crook; can I go? Where do you work? I'm a masseuse. Really? Don't get excited, Commander, I'm the kind who keeps her clothes on, I work by appointment and I need to cancel today's to deal with Bruno, my office is downtown, on Buelna. I'll give you a lift, she was a woman who smiled with her eyes.

She went off to the ladies' room again and he wrote in his Palm: “bisexual, spatial intell, Aldan, S Vald, Mariana K, Paola Rod, Yoonohoo V.” The cavalry charge rang out on his cell phone. It was Zelda: Write these down, boss, oh, and regarding the neighbors three are farmers and went out early, the others neither heard nor saw anything, generally speaking they liked Canizales, he gave more than one of them advice on legal matters.

Before Laura returned, he reached Beatriz Rodríguez, who said her sister had committed suicide. When? This morning, around eight o'clock.

Samantha arrived early at her parents' house in Colinas de San Miguel, a fortress with a flower garden in full bloom. She found them staring at a skimpy breakfast. I can hardly believe it, she kissed each on the forehead. And my darling? I just left him at school, what happened, why the big change? She gestured at the chunks of pineapple and the limp nopales. Nothing, just that yesterday we went to see Dr. Elenes and he put your father on a diet. But you aren't fat. I'm bordering on diabetic and my weight is bothering my right knee, he took an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it. I hope you can get by without your pork rinds and your seafood. His cholesterol came out high too. That's no big deal. But you're going to take care of yourself, my love, you promised; now, Daughter, would you like some breakfast? But Ma, there's nothing wrong with me. I'll tell Genoveva to make you something good. I'd like chorizo and scrambled eggs. Marcelo Valdés and his firstborn daughter were left alone, the breakfast room was small, it had a cuckoo clock and two sideboards filled with silverware and an assortment of knickknacks. I came to tell you that they killed Bruno Canizales; through the window they could see two guards seated on a log in the huge garden,
relaxed in conversation. Did we do it? Tany Contreras made the trip from Nogales and you know he never misses. The old man shook his head, disapproving. Pa, it was necessary, he had me at the end of my rope, besides, you intimidated him several times, don't you remember? When you speak to me, do so properly, don't you forget that you owe me respect and that this is an honorable home, his pale face had turned bright red; to waste powder on a little nuisance is reckless and stupid, this will be the last time you take care of somebody without my consent, and start behaving like a decent woman, don't think I approve of the life you lead, his expression was dark, and if I had any dealings with him it was to protect you, don't forget that I am on good terms with his father. Minerva returned: My love, what's wrong, oh, God Almighty, I think his blood sugar's up again, remember you're not supposed to get upset, did you say something to him? Nothing. Well, I'll have to take him to Tucson because this is not normal, she made him drink water, I'm going to call the doctor right now. Take it easy, I'll go into the garden and get some air and I'll feel better, leave the doctor be, no one dies this early in the day, he stood up, he was wearing a white shirt and khaki pants. Don't talk nonsense, aren't you going to keep Samantha company while she eats? You sit with her, I'm going outside. About five foot two and weighing two hundred pounds, he walked slowly out and toward a small bungalow surrounded by bushes about thirty feet from the house. As soon as the hired guns spotted him they got to their feet. Although the boss was looking feeble of late, they knew he could easily make half the country tremble and that even the weather sought his advice.

Inside, Samantha was talking on her cell phone. Smiling, relaxed. Her features soft, lovely. She hung up when her mother came in with a full plate and a mug of coffee.

He parked in front of the house where the kid with the bike lived; three cars filled the Rodríguezes' side of the street. The garage, empty. The kid with the bike was leaning against one of the cars, he told him he had heard the gunshot and it had worried him. Around here we were all in love with her. Was she that good-looking? She was the law, the queen of the good and the bad. And who was the stud? She wouldn't give us the time of day, she got her kicks someplace else and with somebody else, though people all said the stud was the one who's talking. Oh, yeah? My miserable heart would have given anything. Couldn't one of the lovesick guys she sent packing have killed her? Not anybody from around here, we're not idiots, a body as perfect as hers is worth nothing underground. Okay, your loyalty and good taste are duly noted, did you see any new pretenders? You know they're never lacking. Not often, whenever one turned up we'd beat the shit out of him and it worked like a charm. What about the lawyer, Canizales? Just let that asshole show his face, more than a few of us have sworn to take him out. Save me his guts. Let's see if the dogs leave any.

Good afternoon. I'm Edgar Mendieta from the State Ministerial Police. Pale green room, stereo, family photographs, a dining table for ten, kitchen at the back. To one side, the father's office with the door ajar. The mother was sitting on the sofa, sobbing, Dante was working a Rubik's cube with surprising skill, and Beatriz was looking at her hands. Come in. The body had been taken to the funeral home and that was where the father was. This is the man who called before, clarified Beatriz, a twenty-eight-year-old with blond curly hair, what can I get you?

She took him to the bedroom on the second floor, the bed now perfectly made, bloodstain on the pillow, where her sister had committed suicide. From the moment he walked in, the scent of Carolina Herrera struck him, he had caught a whiff of it in Canizales's bedroom too. He wrote on the Palm: “Perf. Car. Herrer also in Caniz rm?” Why did she turn the pictures around? The beers had grown warm, the midday light filtered through gauze curtains. I have no idea, he thought about calling Ortega but then thought better of it. Where's the gun? It was waiting wrapped in a pink towel in a closet jam-packed with dresses, blouses, and a mess of shoes and boxes in a heap. He put the pistol in the right-hand pocket of his jacket, in the left pocket he had his own, he looked at the books and wrote down a few things. I put the bullet there, she pointed at the computer keyboard, Mendieta wrapped it in a Kleenex and put it with the gun. Shall we turn the pictures back? Beatriz agreed. They were lithographs of places and famous paintings:
The Scream
,
The Nude Maja
,
The Two Fridas
. Two photographs with Bruno Canizales, the rest with relatives and friends. He had no trouble seeing what a beauty she was: delicate features, perfect mouth, lips slightly puckered, a redhead with curly hair, enigmatic gaze. What a pity, he agreed with the kid.

Do you know this man? Of course, Bruno Canizales, my sister was crazy about him, if you ask me why she did what she did, it was for him; they were together for a while, but he was a bit off, some days you couldn't believe his good vibes, he'd talk with you, he'd get excited about whatever you were interested in, he'd give advice, then other days just the opposite: a closed book, turned in on himself; Papa never trusted him, when they were together he'd visit us twice a week; she was strange, even when she was little, if she wanted anything from Papa she would say she was going to kill herself, she liked to take over, to be the center of attention; when we grew up she turned moody, unpredictable, volatile; I didn't get it, because she had everything: beauty, intelligence, friends, all the money she needed; she could be a good sister, too, though usually she was a mystery; after Bruno we didn't meet anybody else; the truth is the boys were all over her, a narco from Badiraguato even hired a band to serenade her once, but she was stuck on Canizales and no one could get her off him. Was she very passionate? More like obsessive, she would get hooked on an idea and no human power could make her change her mind. On anything at all? It was her way of relating to people. What did she like to watch on television? Concerts, interviews, boring things they say cultured people like, Channel 22 from Mexico City. How did she get along with the bros from around here? Some of them were nuts about her, but I don't think she picked up on anyone. Do you know who sold her the pistol? No, the pistol belongs to Papa, she must have taken it at some point. Did she work? No, Papa gives us everything. Yesterday did she do anything different? Her usual routine, she spent all day here reading and listening to music, I went out at 6:40 in the evening and she was still in her pajamas; when I came back at about 11:30, I saw her dressed, having a supper of sweet buns and hot milk, as if she were just getting in, and I saw
nothing more until morning when I heard the shot. Did you notice if she went out later? No, at least I didn't hear her, after she and Bruno broke up she drank a lot, she wouldn't get drunk, but she'd always be drinking. Where did she buy the beers? At the Oxxo or wherever. Mendieta saw a plain white plastic bag on the floor next to the dresser. I'm going to take this. Go ahead. So you think she did it for Canizales. I don't know, one day she did tell him in front of me: If you dump me I'll kill myself. I'm also going to take along the empty cans, using a Kleenex he put them in the plastic bag.

What would you think if you knew that Bruno Canizales was found dead this morning? They looked at each other: She was lovely too, honey-colored eyes and a mole on her cheek; him a normal forty-three-year-old police officer, always dressed in black, three days without shaving, and incapable of falling in love. Is it true? He nodded, I heard that she threatened to kill him then take her own life if he left her. I know she blackmailed him like that, the way I told you I heard her say once, what I don't know is if she would dare do it, you know, the first part; she had terrific days when she was relaxed and happy, a person who brought joy into your life just by walking by, my father adored her, my mother was jealous, we didn't know what to feel about her, especially over the past few months when it was hard to read her heart. What do you do? I'm an actress, even though I don't look it, we've got a show on now, that's why I came home yesterday when I did.

Calvary charge. Mendieta. What's up, bonehead, you must be scratching your balls as usual. It was Guillermo Ortega, head of Criminal Investigation Services. What a crock of shit, what did you find? What do you mean what did I find? Come on, the guilty party of course, I always find the culprit and don't you forget it; listen, my boys located the shell case and the slug
and you aren't going to believe me, Canizales was killed with a 9-mm Smith & Wesson and the bullet was made of silver. What do you make of that? The jerk was probably a vampire. Where did they find it? Among the sheets, it's a little squashed, there's a small dent in the wall where it hit before falling onto the bed. So they killed him standing up. That's most likely, then they laid him down so you could take his picture. And what's up with the shoes? One is expensive, the other is Chinese masquerading as Italian, you can get them in the Izábal Market, both of them were down at the heel. And the prints? We're working on it, you know we didn't get to do a complete check, however, everything seems to point to a case of Jack the Ripper. Just what I feared, have you had a chance to look at his cell phone, I need the calls from the last week at least. Lefty, are you an idiot or what? You think we're machines? Got the message, I'll look for you later, he hung up, he knew that any case that did not move quickly would get dropped, and he was liking this one.

Forgive me, the technical guy can't live without me; from Paola's bag he pulled out a cell phone on a little chain, we'll check her calls and give it back to you, okay? Keep it, I don't think any of us would want to use it. Which is Paola's car? The gray Ford, do you want to see it? I do. He put the white plastic bag in the Jetta. The car was open, the kid with the bike looked on from the doorway of his house. Beatriz smiled at him. Tank almost empty, dirty paper napkins and Kleenex, flyers, a book of stories by Eduardo Antonio Parra, three pairs of shoes, an umbrella, a Post-it with the URLs for Cristina Rivera Garza's and Rafa Saavedra's blogs. The floor on the passenger side had a bit of fresh mud. That could be the footprint of the last person who saw her alive, it was still drizzling, when did it start? He remembered seeing a cloudy sky when he left Dr. Parra's office. In the glove compartment nothing of interest. Is all this necessary? Beatriz
asked. No, it's routine, he noted something on the Palm, she had a connection with Canizales, now the two of them are dead, and we have to take that into account; did Paola see the play you are in? I'm not sure, she never mentioned it, but I think I saw her there on opening night.

They went back to the house. Dante had not even heard the gunshot, and the mother could not stop weeping because for a whole month she had refused to speak a word to her now-dead daughter. I could never make my darling girl understand how much I loved her. You're a heavy sleeper, the detective said to Dante, who was still working the Rubik's cube. I got home late. What time? About 4:30. Was it raining? Drizzling. Did you see a light on in her room? I didn't notice, but her car was in the street and usually she puts it in the garage; the windshield was wet, which indicates that the probability she had turned on the wipers is low. That's reasonable. More than reasonable, it's probable, and it's also probable that she had gone out and was going to go out again. Mendieta nodded approvingly, the young man kept on at the cube. What do you study? Mathematics.

When he was getting into the Jetta, the kid with the bike came over: Take me prisoner, copper, because I'm going to kill the culprit. It was suicide. But it was because of a jerk who screwed her around, I swear that asshole won't see daylight tomorrow. What asshole? That dickhead of a lawyer. Ah, kid, they beat you to it, he met the dawn with a bullet hole in his head. No kidding. Don't ask, and who the hell are you? No big deal, I'm head of the club in love with the queen and I'm the son of my mother. Well, things moved on, dude, they left you fanning the breeze.

He called Zelda Toledo: Did you contact Alfaro at Social Security? Yup, she said that Canizales had no problems with his bosses or with the union, that he was a good lawyer who kept everything in order; they were surprised to learn he was
dead. You don't say, now find out what time the drizzle started in the East Sector. Where's that? Around Ernesto Millán Park. I'm seeing him now, copper, one of those wise guys, the ones who always get their way. What are you trying to tell me? Just that, my copper, and that I'm disgusted they beat me to it. Don't jump into a fight you maybe can't punch your way out of. I couldn't care less, I don't give a fuck about anything, sweet fuck-all, less than sweet fuck-all, whatever, like she used to say . . . he jerked his head toward Paola's house.

Mendieta got into the car and drove off. “There is a house in New Orleans,” maestro Eric Burdon sang.

He took Zapata Boulevard all the way to San Chelín Funeral Home.

Abelardo Rodríguez, the father, agreed to talk to the detective there and then. They sat down in a couple of white chairs. You have no idea how this is going to affect our lives, she was our sun, our compass. He was smoking cigarillos. He pulled out a hip flask and poured whiskey into two plastic cups. Not only was she lovely, she was highly intelligent, she never tried to use her beauty to get ahead, in contests or anything, never, not even in school, she was a girl who knew what she wanted, she was too restless, she had everything to live for, my mind can't grasp why she would do such a thing. How did she get hold of your pistol? He showed him the Beretta. That's something I can't stop asking myself, when did my daughter take that gun without me noticing, I don't know and you can't imagine how much that pains me. Is it registered? Somewhere I must have the permit, it runs out next month. If it's no bother, I'd like to see it within three days. None at all, I'll go by the station and drop it off for you. Mendieta told him about Canizales. No kidding, he was such a nice guy I thought he would live forever, what's more he
was a very good lawyer, I had the pleasure of meeting his father, Engineer Hildegardo Canizales, a stupendous person; I liked him for my daughter, but God didn't want them to get along, and now all this, it's true what they say about misfortune never turning up alone. Señor Rodríguez, I need to have my technicians do a couple of things, we won't be a bother, I'll take the pistol so they can check it and the forensic doctor will take a look at your daughter's body. That's fine, just one favor I'd ask, no sacrilege, please, I don't want them poking around her private parts. You can be sure they won't. There was a pause, Rodríguez poured one more for himself, the detective had not touched his. Well look, Detective, whatever we can do for you, don't hesitate, Christ, after all the guy was practically my son-in-law. What play is your daughter Beatriz in? A piece of shit, listen, I don't even know what it's called, he finished his drink and poured another, all I can say is she goes on stage indecent, something Paola never would have done.

Mendieta hurried with his own and went to the toilet. He used the cell phone: Montaño, get yourself over here to San Chelín right away, they're preparing the body of one of the suspects and I need to know if it has semen. Lefty, don't do this to me, I'm on the road to paradise with the most beautiful and sexy woman I have ever met. Is this your week for a doubleheader? Something like that. Well, leave it for later, this is urgent, before the funeral home people get to her; go in the service entrance. Then he called Ortega and asked him to send a technician to look for gunpowder on her hands.

After that, without the father noticing, he slipped into the embalming room, where they knew him. Well, slackers, are you behaving yourselves? Marvelously. His eyes paused on Paola's face, so lovely that not even the postmortem pallor diminished it. Chief, did you lose something? This babe killed herself, before
you open her up I'd like Montaño to see her, I need to know a few things. Ooh, you need to keep an eye on that guy, they smirked, he's wild. You take charge of that, that's why it's on your turf.