Silver Bullets (8 page)

Five in the morning on the bedside clock, eight at night in his prickly unconscious. A cascade of images made him think he had better face the therapist. He would call him as soon as he got back. He went into the bathroom, suppose he called Zelda and they went off right away? They could have breakfast at the Playa or the Shrimp Bucket. He did not think it wise. He looked at his drawn face, his whiskers a bit long, but he did not feel up to shaving. Mondays are like that, a toboggan into the void, a fruit without any juice. He made a Nescafé and tried to think about the case, he went through the pics on his cell phone and the ones Ortega had given him. Neat and tidy everywhere, like nothing had happened to him. Again the memory of that mysterious fragrance came to mind. Paola had probably been there, since it also smelled of her Carolina Herrera; why use a silver bullet? What kind of message was that? For whom? Why? Does Frank Aldana know how to shoot? If it was him, why a silver bullet?

Valdés and his clan could use silver bullets or even gold if they felt like it, why is Mariana Kelly afraid to talk to the police? We are going to need a search warrant, should I ask Robles to
drop by Laura's house? She's in the picture too. Ortega should go along.

And suppose Bruno's mother is right? What could be so serious that a politician would break off his relationship with his son? His bisexuality? Power corrupts, dissolute power corrupts dissolutely. Imagine that. Are you sure, Mr. Engineer, sir? Isn't he your son? Look, I pay you to kill, not to ask questions. Evidently, the world will have to be set straight by the few of us who are not covering up for the powerful.

While he was musing, Trudis, the heavyset middle-aged woman who kept house for him, arrived with an open newspaper in her hands. Good morning, Lefty, guess how many gangsta-wraps turned up today. He did not know. Four, they found them in Lima, Tierra Blanca, La Costerita, and Bacurimí. He wondered if any of them had a silver bullet. You're off in the clouds, Lefty, what's wrong? Come on, take heart, have you had any breakfast? I've got no appetite. Again? He said nothing. Do you have to go out early? At 8:20. Then there is time for you to eat something, I'm going to make you some eggs with spring onions and turkey bacon that will wash away your sins. Later. None of this later, I won't let you leave on an empty stomach and don't push me away because soon you'll be thanking me, now go shave, you are a respectable man, I don't want anyone to see you looking like a beggar.

Quarter past nine in the morning. They went through the tollbooth on the Culiacán–Mazatlán highway and stopped to buy coffee at a stand at the side of the road. About sixty-five feet ahead of them, the Federal Highway Police had set up a roadblock for truckers. They were taking urine samples, and blood too if they thought it necessary, to see how high the men behind the wheel were. Mendieta cheered up as he watched a group of
drivers heading for the toilets; others were coming out smiling, obviously in good spirits. One sugar for me and I'll meet you at the car, he told Zelda, and he went into the toilet. A short man was drinking water from a bottle with one hand while with the other he held up several vials filled with yellow liquid.

Hey, my man Shorty, what's up, how's business, two drivers about to purchase their vials looked up, worried. My man Lefty, what a joy for the eyes, he gave him an affectionate hug. Let me finish with these gentlemen and I'll be right with you, the drivers paid for their urine samples and went to do their drug test; he asked another who arrived for the same reason to come back in a minute. Shorty Abitia and he had been friends since childhood. You damn dwarf, I never thought you would do so well. It's the times, Lefty my man, as long as the federal agents are here I'll make enough to bring home the beans, and what about you? On the radio I heard you were caught up in something heavy. Justice never sleeps, my man Shorty, but you know that. Well, if there is anything to be made out of it, keep me in mind, my family will thank you. All right, clean the wax out of your ears, I want to know who's using silver bullets, 9-mm. What luxury, bro, a death like that even I . . . is that how they killed the lawyer? I will expect your call and don't fuck up your kidneys, how many of those are you selling a day? Not many, yesterday I sold fifty-two. Great, now you're going to be set for life. Don't fool yourself, the children are in school and they're a bottomless pit. But it's worth the effort, isn't it? Begoña is already in university. Damn, Shorty, I hope she doesn't turn out like you. Why not? So she doesn't end up a single mom, that's why. May your tongue turn to pork rinds, you'll see how beautiful she'll be wearing white. Keep your ears open and I'll expect to hear from you soon.

When he left the place, seven drivers were in the entranceway, anguish in their faces, while the first one he had seen was in his cab driving off happily toward the city.

In an hour and a half, they had put 112 miles of highway behind them and were on the shore drive of the prettiest port on the Pacific.

The sea here is the ultimate muse.

The Municipal School of Dance, where the Delfos Company offered classes, was downtown, next to Ángela Peralta Theater and across from Machado Square. Claudia Lavista, the group's driving force, greeted them. Mendieta found her attractive, but he made no comment. In her office they let her know they wanted to speak with Frank Aldana. Something bad? Not at all, we just want his assistance.

Seven minutes later, Aldana came in, thirty-two years old, big black eyes, eyebrows like Frida Kahlo's. Visibly nervous when he learned they were from the police. What are you doing here? Zelda began, they had agreed she would do most of the interrogating. I'm in a professional course to perfect my Limón technique for a show, what's up? I'll ask the questions, when was the last time you went to Culiacán? I haven't gone, I came here two weeks ago and I'll be here one more. Who knows you are here? The people from my company and my family. Do you miss the city? I don't have time, the days here are long and exhausting and the teacher is from New York so we can't skip out on anything. How long has it been since you last saw Bruno Canizales? Three months, six days, and about eight hours. Why so precise? I have to keep track, I can't think of any other way to express my longing to see him. Has he called you? No, at least no one has given me a message at the hotel and I don't have a cell phone. What were you doing Thursday night? I went to sleep, we didn't finish
until ten and the call for Friday morning was 9:00 a.m., this interrogation reminds me of the movies, did something happen? Can any witness confirm you were in at that hour? I'm staying at the Hotel La Siesta, I don't think the management would have noticed, on Friday I had breakfast at eight and by nine I was here, any of my classmates could tell you. If Attorney Canizales died at about 4:30, this bastard could easily have traveled to Culiacán and got back for breakfast; Mendieta was surprised to see how his eyes filled with tears when Zelda told him that Bruno Canizales had been murdered.

Once he had recovered: How did it happen? A bullet to the head. It was that bitch, I'm sure, she was always threatening him, cursing him. Who are you talking about? Paola Rodríguez, an old girlfriend who hated me and hated him, too, a ridiculous, pretentious girl completely full of herself thanks to her beauty and Sor Juana's poetry; she'd bring him thick books supposedly so they could read them together. Like
News from the Empire
? He nodded. Would you testify against her? I'd like to kill the bitch, the envious fucker, since she was incapable of being happy she made sure no one else was either. Hours later they found her dead at her house. That is just what she always swore, she would kill him and then kill herself, I hope she rots in hell. Then he was sobbing: What do you feel when you fire a gun, I've never done it. If you have no witnesses that you were here Thursday night, you will have to come with us. Take me, nothing matters, I wanted to do this show for him, I'm taking this course for him, everything I wanted to do was for him, even if we hadn't seen each other for a long time he would come to the show and then he'd come to my dressing room to hug me and kiss me and we'd be happy for a few days or a few hours, he was like that and it didn't take much to please me. They fell silent, the man and the woman had also lost people they loved and they understood. We
have to go, Mendieta said softly. Aldana stood up, if you'll allow me, I'll get my things.

What do you think, boss? You know, I can't tell when love is mixed up in it, I've never understood lovers who kill each other or prey on each other. Not even when you were in love? Never, and I can't remember the last time I fell in love, he lied, I think it was in kindergarten. In my case, I'd have no idea what sort of mess I'd be in if it weren't for Rodo. I envy you, he lied again, a stable love is the best thing that could happen to anyone. Boss, can I tell you something? At headquarters that's not what they say about you. What do they say? That you can't shake off an impossible love, that before you were happier, more communicative. Don't pay attention to those assholes, they aren't playing with a full deck. I've got a proposal, boss, let's leave this kid alone, let him live his life, let him stay to take his classes or whatever, why should we make his tragedy worse? Claudia Lavista came in, tall, svelte, white pants, lovely. I'm sorry, I thought you left with Frank. What? They ran outside, in the street the usual throng of pedestrians made it impossible either to see or to run. Sorry, boss, Zelda grunted, I guess this is why we think everyone is guilty even if they seem the opposite. Yup, Frank Aldana just made the mistake of his life, wait until I get my hands on him.

The streets of Mazatlán are narrow; those which do not lead to the sea lead nowhere. Lavista confirmed that Aldana was there Friday at nine the day Canizales died and that, yes, he had finished the previous day at ten, and she added that he was a very dedicated kid and had everything he needed to be a success. They went into the practice room, where the dancers were trying to grasp what was going on; they held the same opinion as the director and did not understand why he had run off. He even left his shoes behind, a pale young woman said. Zelda looked at the loafers in a corner and smiled to herself: they were the matches
for the ones in Canizales's house, she placed them in a plastic bag and winked at Mendieta. They went out accompanied by the director. If he returns, let us know, we will thank you, above all, he will.

What do you make of it? In Culiacán or in Mazatlán they slept together and mixed up their shoes. There is a reason he ran. For sure he had time to go and return.

They drove around and had no luck. At Hotel La Siesta they found his personal effects. Nothing there. They picked up a photograph of the two embracing, all smiles, and a couple of notes scribbled on fine paper: “See you at 9 at L's house, bring the present. B” and “Please don't insist, I'll come to you when I'm ready. B” This last one looked like it had been crumpled and then ironed. Faint aromas. Mendieta pocketed them. A soft breeze entered through the big window facing the sea.

Zelda was anxious to hear some comment from her boss, and since she could not see when it might be coming, she asked. Well, it's true there are two key strikes against him, but the truth is fickle, it always hides behind a smoke screen, so we'd better wait for some proof, appearances mean something, but they're not decisive. Zelda did not agree, but she chose to remain silent. Everyone had told her Lefty was strange but was rarely wrong. What about the silver bullet? I'd like to know about that, too.

“The bitter yellow sea of Mazatlán,” as the poet called it, was filled with treasure hunters.

Captain Noriega, I'm calling to see if they do a good manta ray here in Mazatlán. Lefty, what are you doing here, plug-ugly? With this weather, who can resist the seashore? And we want a good meal. Who's with you? Shakira O'Neal. Black or white? Did you turn into a racist? No, just to get an image of her, though since she's with you she must be white. She's brown. Okay, do you remember where the Bahía is? Maybe. I'll see you there in
fifteen minutes, I want Shakira's autograph, that is, if you don't hold exclusive rights. Noriega was the sharpest policeman on the Mazatlán force. They had taken that course on criminal investigation together in Tijuana, from which they came out worse than they went in according to Mendieta, but then he was hard to please. In reality they had spent the four days plus another two drinking and carousing with L.H., who they considered the most authentic bandit who ever existed.

Noriega was tall, dark, rather hefty, and he drank all the beer he could lay his hands on. It stimulates my intellect, he liked to say in his quick patter. What it stimulates is your belly, look at you. Do I look that bad? he asked Zelda, who blushed. Sitting down you can't tell. You see, don't try to contradict the official opinion of a woman as pretty as our colleague. Malú filled their table with dishes: shrimp in their shells, octopus, sea scallops, manta ray, and the incredible ceviche the place was famous for. They drank Pacífico and told him about the case and the dancer taking off, they gave him the photograph of Aldana with Bruno in case he turned up. If the lady will stay behind I'll help her search. That's not the plan, Captain, that is, unless my boss has changed his mind. Do you want to stay? Of course she does, look at the way she's smiling just thinking about it. Indeed, Zelda was smiling: Boss, don't forget about Rodo, it means a lot to me. Her boyfriend's birthday, the detective said. When? Saturday. Well, why doesn't he come on Saturday, that way you'll have time to miss each other while I show you how to fish for marlin, swordfish, and shark; you are a very special woman, to put up with this dolt is no small thing, a woman like you should learn about everything, oh, and for sure we'll find the dancer. Zelda kicked Mendieta under the table. Another time, for now I've got her busy over there, you know how short-staffed we are, why don't you come with us? My port would weep and so would I.