Authors: Roberto Bolaño
Tags: #Fiction, #Literary Collections, #Mystery & Detective, #Mexico, #Caribbean & Latin American, #Cold Cases (Criminal Investigation), #Crime, #Literary, #Young Women, #Missing Persons, #General, #Women
Around this time, Ealo Cura
turned seventeen, six years older than Penelope Mendez when she was killed, and
Epifanio found him a place to live. It was in one of the tenement buildings
that still stood in the center of the city. The tenement was on Calle Obispo,
and after crossing a hall where the stairs began, the visitor came out into a
huge courtyard, with a big fountain in the middle, around which rose three
floors of flaking arcades where children played or neighbor women talked,
arcades half covered by wooden roofs supported by very narrow iron columns,
rusted with the passage of time. Lalo Cura's room was big, with enough space
for a bed, a table and three chairs, a refrigerator (next to the table), and a
wardrobe too large for the few items of clothing he possessed. There was also a
little stove and a new cement sink where he could wash dirty pots and dishes or
splash his face. The toilet, like the shower, was communal, and there were two
latrines on each floor and three more on the roof. Epifanio showed him his own
room first, which was on the first floor. His clothes hung from a cord strung
from one wall to the other and next to the unmade bed Ealo Cura spotted a stack
of old newspapers, almost all Santa Teresa papers. The bottom ones were
yellowing. The stove didn't seem to have been used in a long time. Epifanio
said it was best for a policeman to live alone, but that he should do as he
liked. Then he took Ealo Cura up to his room, which was on the third floor, and
gave him the keys. Now you have a home, Ealito, he said. If you want to sweep,
borrow a broom from your neighbor. Someone had written a name on the wall:
Ernesto Arancibia. Arancibia was spelled with a
v
instead of a
la.
Ealo
pointed to the name and Epifanio shrugged his shoulders. Rent is due at the end
of the month, he said, and he left without further explanations.
Around this time, too, Juan de
Dios
armed robberies that had taken place in Colonia Centeno and Colonia Podesta.
When he asked whether this meant the Penitent case was closed, he was told it
didn't, but since the Penitent seemed to have vanished and the investigation
was stalled, and given that a limited number of investigators were assigned to
Santa Teresa, they would have to prioritize more urgent cases. Of course, this
didn't mean they had forgotten about the Penitent or that Juan de Dios Martinez
was no longer in charge of the investigation, but the officers under his
command, who were wasting their time watching the city's churches twenty-four
hours a day, would have to devote themselves to matters of greater benefit to
public security. Juan de Dios
The next dead woman was Lucy
Anne Sander. She lived in Huntsville, about thirty miles from Santa Teresa, in
Arizona, and she had been to El Adobe first, with a friend, and then they had
driven across the border, ready for a sampling, at least, of Santa Teresa's
nonstop nightlife. Her friend, Erica Delmore, was the owner and driver of the
car. They both worked at a crafts factory in
and Apache Junction. They were the only two white women at the factory, because
all the other workers were Mexican or Indian. Lucy Anne had been born in a
little town in
She was twenty-six and her dream was to live near the ocean. Sometimes she
talked about going back home, but usually only when she was tired or upset,
which wasn't often. Erica Delmore was forty and she had been married twice. She
was from
weren't many people and life was more relaxed. When they got to Santa Teresa
they headed straight to the downtown clubs, first El Pelicano and then
Domino's. Along the way they were joined by a twenty-two-year-old Mexican who
said his name was Manuel or Miguel. He was a nice guy, according to Erica, who
tried to hook up with Lucy Anne, and then, when Lucy Anne turned him down, with
Erica, and in no way could be called a stalker or a bully. At some point, while
they were at Domino's, Manuel or Miguel (Erica couldn't remember his name
exactly) went off and they were left alone at the bar. Then they drove randomly
around the center, visiting the city's historic landmarks: the cathedral, the
town hall, some old colonial buildings, the colonnaded Plaza de Armas.
According to Erica, no one bothered them, nor were they followed. As they
circled the plaza, an American tourist called out: girls, you have to see the
bandstand, it's amazing. Then he vanished into the bushes and they decided it
might not be a bad idea to walk for a while. The night was bright, cool, full
of stars. As Erica was looking for a place to park, Lucy Anne got out, took off
her shoes, and went running through the grass, which had just been watered.
After she parked, Erica went to look for Lucy Anne but couldn't find her. She
decided to head into the plaza, toward the famous bandstand. Some of the paths
were dirt, but the main ones were still paved with old stone. On the benches
she saw couples talking or kissing. The bandstand was wrought iron, and in it,
though it was late at night, insomniac children played. The lights, Erica
noted, were dim, just bright enough to let you see where you were going, but
with so many people around, there was no sense of threat. She couldn't find
Lucy Anne, but she did think she recognized the American tourist who had
shouted to them from the plaza. He was with three others and they were drinking
tequila, passing the bottle around. She went up to them and asked whether they
had seen her friend. The American tourist looked at her as if she had escaped
from a mental institution. They were all drunk and very young, but Erica knew
how to handle drunks and she explained the situation. Since they had nothing
better to do, they decided to help her. After a while the plaza echoed with
shouts for Lucy Anne. Erica went back to where she had parked the car. No one
was there. She got in, locked the doors, and honked the horn several times.
Then she started to smoke until the air inside became unbreathable and she had
to roll down a window. At dawn, she went to the police station and asked if
there was an American consulate in the city. The policeman attending her didn't
know and had to ask some other policemen. One of them said there was. Erica
filed a missing person report and then she headed to the consulate with a copy
of it. The consulate was on Calle Verdejo, in Colonia Centro-Norte, not far
from where she'd been the night before, and it was still closed. A few steps
away was a coffee shop, and Erica went in to have breakfast. She ordered a
vegetable sandwich and pineapple juice and then she used the phone to call
house, but no one answered. From her table she watched the slow stirrings of
the street as it came to life. When she had finished her juice she called
time she dialed the sheriff's number. A kid called Rory Campuzano, someone she
knew well, picked up the phone. He said the sheriff wasn't in yet. Erica told
him that Lucy Anne Sander had disappeared in Santa Teresa, and the way things
looked, she was going to spend all morning at the consulate or making the
rounds of hospitals. Tell him to call me at the consulate, she said. Will do,
Erica, sit tight, said Rory, and then he hung up. She sat there for an hour,
picking at her vegetable sandwich, until she saw activity around the door of
the consulate. She was helped by a man who said his name was Kurt A. Banks and
who asked her all kinds of questions about her friend and herself, as if he
didn't believe Erica's story. Only after she left did Erica realize he
suspected the two of them of being whores. Then she went back to the police
station, where she had to tell the same story twice more to policemen who knew
nothing about the report she had filed and was finally informed that there was
no news of her missing friend, who might very well have crossed back over the
border. One of the policemen recommended that she do likewise, best to leave
the matter in the hands of the consulate and go home. Erica stared at him. He
looked like a good person and his advice seemed well-intentioned. The rest of
the morning and much of the afternoon she spent visiting hospitals. Until that
moment she hadn't stopped to think how Lucy Anne might have ended up at a
hospital. She ruled out the possibility of an accident, because Lucy Anne had
disappeared in the plaza or somewhere nearby and she hadn't heard any noise at
all, no shout, no squealing of brakes, no skid. After trying to come up with
other reasons that might explain why Lucy Anne would be in a hospital, all she
could think of was an amnesia attack. The likelihood was so remote that her
eyes filled with tears. Anyway, none of the hospitals she visited had any
record of having admitted an American woman. At the last one, a nurse suggested
she try the Clfnica America, a private hospital, but she answered with a burst
of sarcasm. We're blue-collar workers, honey, she said in English. Like me,
said the nurse, also in English. The two of them talked for a while and then
the nurse invited Erica to have coffee at the hospital cafeteria, where she
informed her that many women disappeared in Santa Teresa. It's the same in the
said Erica. The nurse met her eyes and shook her head. It's worse here, she
said. When they parted they exchanged phone numbers and Erica promised to keep
the nurse posted on any developments. She ate outside at a restaurant in the
center of the city and twice she thought she saw Lucy Anne walking along the
sidewalk, once coming toward her and once heading away, but it wasn't really
Lucy Anne either time. Almost without knowing what she was ordering, she
pointed at random to a couple of dishes that weren't too expensive. Both were
seasoned with lots of hot pepper and after a while tears came to her eyes, but
she kept eating anyway. Then she drove her car to the plaza where Lucy Anne had
disappeared, parked in the shade of a big oak, and went to sleep with both
hands clutching the steering wheel. When she woke she headed to the consulate,
and the man named Kurt A. Banks introduced her to another man who said his name
was
He told her it was still too soon for there to be any progress in the matter of
her friend's disappearance. She asked when it wouldn't be too soon.
impassively and said: three more days. And he added: at least. As she was
leaving, Kurt A. Banks said the
disappearance. She thanked him and left. When she got outside she found a
public phone and called
Rory Campuzano answered and told her the sheriff had tried to get in touch with
her three times. He's out now, said Rory, but when he comes back I'll tell him
to call you. No, said Erica, I still don't have a place to stay, I'll call back
in a little while. Before it got dark she checked out several hotels. The ones
that seemed good were too expensive and finally she got a room at a
boardinghouse in Colonia Ruben Dario, without private bath or television. The
shower was down the hall and there was a little bolt to lock the door from
inside. She took her clothes off, but not her shoes, afraid of catching a
fungus, and stood under the water for a long time. Half an hour later, still
wrapped in the towel with which she'd dried herself, she fell into bed and
forgot about calling the
That day they found Lucy Anne
Sander not far from the border fence, a few yards past some gas tanks in a
ditch running alongside the
chest, and abdomen. It was discovered by some workers who immediately alerted
the police. In the forensic examination a significant sampling of semen was
found in the vagina, and it was established that Lucy Anne Sander had been
raped several times. Death was caused by one of five stab wounds, any of which
might have been fatal. Erica Delmore was given the news when she called the
American consulate. Kurt A. Banks asked her to come in immediately, saying he
had some sad news for her, but so insistent was she and so loud did her voice
grow that he had no choice but to tell her the whole truth without further
preamble. Before she went to the consulate, Erica called the
to reach him. She told him Lucy Anne had been murdered in Santa Teresa. Do you
want me to come get you. asked the sheriff. I'd like that, but it's all right
if you can't, I have my car, said Erica. I'll come get you, said the sheriff.
Then she called the nurse who had befriended her and gave her the latest and
presumably final update. They'll probably want you to identify the body, said
the nurse. The morgue was in one of the hospitals she'd visited the day before.
She went with Henderson, who was nicer than Kurt A. Banks, but she would really
have preferred to go alone. As they were waiting in a corridor in the basement,
the nurse appeared. They hugged and kissed each other on the cheek. Then she
introduced the nurse to Henderson, who greeted her distractedly but wanted to
know how long they'd known each other. Twenty-four hours, said the nurse. Or
less. It's true, thought Erica, just a day, but I already feel as if I've known
her for a long time. When the medical examiner turned up, he said
with her. Believe me, I'd rather not, said
duty. The nurse gave her a hug and the two women went in together, followed by
the American official. Two Mexican policemen were in the room examining the
dead woman. Erica went to look and said it was her friend. The policemen asked
her to sign some papers. Erica tried to read them but they were in Spanish.
It's nothing, said
sign them. The nurse read the papers and told her she could sign. Is that all?
asked
That's all, said one of the Mexican policemen. Who did this to Lucy Anne? she
asked. The policemen looked at her uncomprehendingly. The nurse translated and
the police said they didn't know yet. Past noon, the
consulate. Erica was smoking in her car with the doors locked when he arrived.
The sheriff spotted her from the distance and they talked, she still sitting in
the car and he bent toward her, one hand resting on the open door and the other
on his belt. Then he went to request more information from the consulate and
Erica stayed in the car with the doors locked again, chain-smoking. When the
sheriff came out he said they should go home. Erica waited for the sheriff to
start his car and then, as if in a dream, she followed him along the Mexican
streets and across the border and through the desert, in
horn and waved and both cars stopped at an old gas station that also served
food. But Erica wasn't hungry and she just listened to what the sheriff had to
tell her: that Lucy Anne's body would be sent to
police had promised to catch the killer, that the whole thing stank like shit.
Then the sheriff ordered scrambled eggs with refried beans and a beer and she
got up from the table and went to buy more cigarettes. When she got back the
sheriff was cleaning his plate with a piece of sandwich bread. His hair was
thick and black and made him look younger than he was. Do you think they told
you the truth, Harry? she asked. No, I don't, said the sheriff, but I plan to
make it my business to find it out. I believe you, Harry, she said, and started
to cry.