Silver Bullets (6 page)

A little after five in the afternoon, Mendieta arrived at the Canizales compound on the outskirts of Navolato, a prosperous, hot, humid town founded by commercial farmers. A strong breeze made the leaves flutter. The drivers of several government cars were making small talk, all smiles. They were listening to northern corridos with the volume low. Immense fruit trees easily reached over the wall surrounding the orchard. He identified himself to the man at the gate, who led him to a little room that smelled of apple-scented air freshener. A television had the ball game on: Vinicio Castilla at bat. Through a small window he could see part of a two-story ocher-yellow house full of arches and greenery, mostly ferns and golden chains. In the garden, avocado, mango, and orange trees, an arbor where men in sombreros were conversing around a flask of cane liquor.

Nicolás Beltrán, the family lawyer, meticulously shaven and dressed in a black suit, came to tell him that the engineer could not see him, that he hoped he would please understand. I do understand, and that's why I only want to ask him one question. Any interruption would be uncalled for, Señor Mendieta, he is exhausted and of course very upset. Just the one and I won't
bother him again. Look, I spoke with Commander Briseño and he agreed the engineer would not be inconvenienced, however, I can see that there are broken links in the chain of command, I shall have to call the district attorney's office. Mendieta felt such a deep weariness at the mention of his higher-ups, it drained the blood from his face and made him want nothing more than to behave himself, so he took the emissary by the lapels, lifted him off the ground, and threw him against the wall: Listen, asshole, take me to your boss right this minute or I'll charge you with obstructing the investigation and throw you in the slammer for a week, and then you can tell me how you'll fix things to get yourself out. The lawyer was petrified, his mouth agape. Let's go, the detective ordered while he smoothed a wrinkle in his coat and pushed the man toward the door. The lawyer turned to him and poked a finger into his chest. I don't want you to leave, Mendieta, without knowing that you just earned yourself an enemy. You? Suck my dick, I just took a look at your file and it's this thick. He spun him around and gave him a shove.

The engineer was enjoying the company of friends from government and business. They were drinking hard, smoking cigars. The lawyer gave him the word, and he threw a glare at the detective, who held his gaze just to see how it felt to confront a potentate, then came over to greet him with the cordiality of a politician: Come with me in here. People were talking in little groups, he could see the brother and his friends making a few girls smile; among the friends, one who was elegantly dressed caught his eye, where have I seen him before? They sat down in an office big enough to hold eight of the detective's little cubicle.

Tell me what makes you so anxious to see me. Your son was murdered with a silver bullet by someone who knew him; Engineer Canizales, you are a very important man with numerous friends and enemies, have you received any threats? None
whatsoever, and there was sufficient distance between myself and my son that my enemies would take that into account, I know he was a great lawyer, but it has been more than four years since we last spoke, don't ask me why; I will ask the district attorney to suspend the investigation and you will be able to move on to another case; I am not interested in knowing the identity or the fate of my son's murderer, pause, firm gesture, icy glower, so don't waste your time, I know what country I live in and what can be avoided, if you will excuse me I must return to my friends, he stood up. Do you know why the DA's office already called asking for the same thing? Impasse during which no one dares touch a thing. Aha, like Bruno used to say when he was little: Do you swear? My brother was the same way, yes, I swear. Detective, I have serious differences with the district attorney, if he ordered the investigation suspended then I will make sure it continues right to the end, even though the results are still immaterial to me. Okay, I trust you will treat this delicately with District Attorney Bracamontes. Carry on, Detective, I will call for an update, any other questions? What fragrance is this? Canizales started for the door. I have no idea. Neither did the detective, rumors are flying that your party is going to make a shift and the lucky one will be you. I cannot speak to what has not occurred. What I meant was that you can count on my vote. Thank you. Did Bruno have a room here? No, he rarely stayed here, and when he did he slept in his brother's room. The narcos had your son in their sights, he was threatened by Marcelo Valdés, did you know that? No, and seriously, Detective, the last thing I want is for this to snowball, especially if those people are involved. Mendieta looked at him: Thank you, Engineer, don't forget that you can count on my vote and the votes of my family.

Under the arbor no one was speaking. Wasps flitted from one sombrero to another. A woman dressed in black asked him
to approach. Thin. Pale as death. Hands transparent. Are you from the police? Edgar Mendieta of the State Ministerial Police, at your service. I am Bruno's mother, I don't know how to prove it, but I am certain he had him killed, he's a bastard, a monster who will burn in hell. Her mouth was twisted with hatred. What makes you think it was him? Because he has never had any scruples and he did not approve of my boy's lifestyle; his ambition is boundless, do you know who he has brought into his circle? The scum of his party, she looked at him, her eyes dry. On Thursday night, did your son speak with you after ten o'clock? He called from Mazatlán; he was happy, he told me he was by the sea. Beltrán came hurrying over, followed by two nurses: Enough, Mendieta, you'll see what you'll get for sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong; señora, you should rest. The nurses took charge of the woman, who did not say a word. Beltrán faced the detective: You can scram. I could also stay and have a drink with these people. You're a dumbass, he said, heading off as quickly as he had come. Mendieta smiled happily.

“Two gangsta-wraps, each with its coup de grâce, were found in a rural area along the highway to Imala; Commander Moisés Pineda, chief of the antinarcotics unit of the Federal Preventive Police, went in person to the scene of the crime and declared that they are hot on the trail of the murderers and will spare no effort to put them behind bars. On another matter, little news in the case of Attorney Bruno Canizales, murdered two days ago at his home in Guadalupe neighborhood; Commander Omar Briseño reported to this station that the perpetrators of the crime will soon be caught and there will be no funny business. The investigation is being led by Detective Edgar ‘Lefty' Mendieta, one of the most prestigious and incorruptible members of the force, and results are expected soon.
For
Eyes on the Night
weekend edition, this is Daniel Quiroz reporting.”

He parked his car at El Quijote. You are two bricks short of a load, fucking Quiroz, you haven't a clue, and when you do, you shut your trap, and shutting up is a priceless virtue if you live in hell and have to speak with the Devil.

He sat near the bar, far from the stage where a dark-skinned girl was dancing to Barry White's “Under the Influence of Love.” The place was a sound box. They sent a beer over and a double tequila, which he downed quickly. He was thirsty. They served him again. The waiter, a homosexual known as Curlygirl, was from the Col Pop and held Lefty in high regard: he had known his mother, whom he referred to as a stern but understanding woman. At the next table over, a man was yammering at a beer that had grown warm. No one paid any attention to him. My God has eyes and nothing escapes him, my God has ears and hears all, my God has skin and feels everything; He shall soon be here to set things straight and the impious shall pay: all the criminals with starched collars, the corrupt judges, the people who set the price of coffee and tobacco, all of them will pay. He really needs his snort, Curlygirl murmured while serving the detective his third drink. Well, get it for him and you'll have your ticket to heaven assured. If only your mother could hear you, may God hold her close, so little time left and you giving me advice. He saw coming through the door the cheerleader for the Tomateros who had gone to bed with the forensic doctor, accompanied by two girlfriends and a transvestite. All three girls were attractive, lithe, fit, long hair full of highlights and colored strands, pierced belly buttons on view, and the tranny was not about to be left behind. Just look at that quartet, a fascinated Curlygirl exclaimed, no doubt swept away by some recollection because right away he said: What times those were.
Who is he? He's one of the Valenzuelas, Lefty. You don't say, the son of Yoonohoo Valenzuela? No more, no less. Would he have known Bruno Canizales? he wondered, and grew thoughtful, noticing how they drew the attention of the crowd, which sent a steady stream of drinks their way. The girls were happy, they had more admirers than the dancers, who were certainly awful that night, same as the comic. The one on stage at the moment had her top off to dance a polka, but not even that made the crowd look up. Mendieta entered an easy state of drunkenness, controlled drunkenness, in which he never allowed himself to remember anything except the fact that he had to save his own skin. The last time he had let himself wallow in memories, he did not go to work for a week and it took Ortega and Montaño's determined efforts to raise him from prostration. Dr. Parra, I hope not to see you for a long time, my friend; I promise I will never again be weak and if I feel any commotion I'll cut off my balls. Goga: the name surfaced, and with it a gorgeous face, a smile, a way of walking, and he drank. Goga, why don't you come and pick up the pieces? They're scattered in the sewers, chewed on by the rats. Shaking his head, Curlygirl watched him: Edgar, drop all that, my son, the world is full of women. Don't say that, bro, don't say it and don't believe I'm not frightened by the fact that all those women come down to one. It's love, my son, and there is but one way out; to our eternal disgrace, it's a fatal trap, remember what happened to me with my lieutenant colonel; you've got to just leave it, there's no other way, sweetie, what, aren't you a man? Mendieta quickly drained his beer and the tequila. The waiter shook his head hopelessly. The addicted believer abandoned his table; his supplier had not turned up, so he headed off to another dive.

Another beer, then he decided it was time to leave. What would become of man without the night? In the car he swallowed
a Ranisen and chewed a Pepto for heartburn. He turned on the stereo, and the Stones' version of “Like a Rolling Stone” kicked off, which he found both subtle and captivating. Their satanic majesties in style, as loud as could be. He recalled that
Milenio Diario
had published a list of covers of Stones tunes, which he was sure was incomplete. It did not even have Joe Cocker's “A Little Help from My Friends,” which is a monument, or Janis's “To Love Somebody” or “Proud Mary” by Tina Turner. Two black Hummers were double-parked across from the bar. Well, now, for whom do the bells toll? Maybe they went in to celebrate and I've just got a suspicious mind. Should he snoop around or hold his curiosity in check? He preferred to keep his distance from the narcos for two reasons: One, his best friend had been artfully peppered with bullets simply for insisting on his fee for taking a suitcase of cocaine to Ciudad Juárez, and that came after they had raped his girlfriend and tortured him. They had gone to school together, and it left a mark that could not be erased. And two, when he was already in the police they tried to take him out twice: once in a memorable gunfight where the car in which he took cover caught fire and the other time when they planted sixty pounds of Novocaine on him so he would lose his job. I slipped free both times, he thought, weary of it all. That very day he resigned from Narcotics and, according to those in the know, from the easy, expedited road to riches.

Eight minutes later, he saw them come out with the cheerleaders and the tranny, get into their vehicles, and peel away, burning rubber.

Once the song ended, he started the Jetta; like a blessing, the way Goga walked to the bathroom filled his mind, but only for an instant. Does sashay come from sachet? Then, listening to the Monkees' “A Little Bit Me, a Little Bit You,” he drove home to the Col Pop.

It was getting dark. In a small room overlooking the back garden, Marcelo Valdés and his wife were talking. They were drinking fruit-flavored chamomile tea. Three bodyguards were on strict alert. It was your call to settle down here, you said being near your family was what counted. What I really wanted was to get you away from you know who, she gave him a cold look, and if you still have even a drop of shame you won't make me recall that bitch, she was leafing through a fashion magazine. Valdés ignored her and continued: Now you want us to move back to the country, where do you get the idea it's a paradise? My love, you're ill, you've got more commitments than you can possibly keep, and I don't want you to die; I lost my son and I don't want to lose you. We're all born to die. But not at the hands of our enemies or from anger; Dr. Elenes says you'd be wise to retire, go back to the country, and live in peace, you can't handle the stress the way you could before, things are getting tougher every day, and up there we have sky, the plane, enough food for a year; all that's missing is us. They fell silent, Valdés noticed the darkness growing denser, though they remained in the shadows, the lights in the garden came on. I have created an empire
that will die with me, he moaned as if to himself, but his wife responded: I don't think Samantha would agree, don't you see how upset she is about your illness? Look, I think about her a lot, maybe too much, and it worries me that she still gets those teenage tantrums. Well, even with all that, she is a far sight better than the good-for-nothings who came to visit you today. Two of his sons from other women had come to the house at noon to see about his condition, both were doctors, specialists, but the wife did not let them examine him, claiming Dr. Elenes was jealous about his patients. Neither of them is interested in this business, he sidestepped, serving himself more tea. I wouldn't be so sure. They have their hospital, and it's fully accredited, by the way. But they are human, and if they're human they are ambitious and they aren't going to just take things lying down, which is why you had better start thinking about Samantha, she grew up with you and you know everything about her, the others, well, who knows what tricks they might have up their sleeves. Again they fell silent.

Someone turned on the house lights. They heard a car come in. It was Samantha's Hummer. She and Mariana got out, carrying the sleeping child; the señora called them over and took charge of the little boy, who continued sleeping, undisturbed. What are you up to, are you getting romantic? Yeah, right, your father won't try to lasso me, he's a bore. Is that true, Pa, aren't you the big macho? Mariana went for cold drinks. It's just that she doesn't know how to dance. What do you mean, I'd even do a flamenco for you if I got the chance. I mean on horseback. Not even if I were nuts. Don't say no, Ma, I'll help you, I'll hold the reins so you can mount. If we can dance on the floor, why do we have to dance in the air? The old guy wants to cut loose, Mama, you have to give him a chance. Mariana came back with two glasses of Coke. They continued talking until the girls
departed. Valdés still felt uncomfortable, something told him things were not right. That policeman, Mendieta, he was begging to be taught a lesson, how could it have occurred to him to bother him at home, was it not enough that he paid off the top brass to leave him in peace? By the time he went to bed, after a supper of toast and yogurt, he had made up his mind.