Silver Bullets (5 page)

Mendieta parked in the street and walked across to headquarters. Commander Moisés Pineda was exiting the parking lot in a red Lamborghini, the latest model. The detective spotted him, what is that idiot doing here? And he gave a perfunctory wave. The other rolled down his window: How are you, Lefty, what a sight, give me your sister and I'll set you right. He did not like that stupid saying one bit. I'm fine, Captain, what's up? Just taking this new baby for a test drive, guess who gave it to me? Pineda loved to try his patience. Nobody, you bought it with your savings. The commander caught the irony, he smiled and winked: We should have a few beers, Lefty, you and I have a lot in common, things we could both profit from, are you ready for some breakfast? He thought: You are a dumbass if you think I'd let myself be seen with you, they had entered the police academy at the same time, then each had chosen his own turf. Good idea, Pineda, but it'll have to be some other day, we're busy as can be with the Canizales case. I'll take that as a promise, Briseño isn't in yet, he must be cooking with his old lady, tell him to expect my call; by the way, thanks for yesterday's gangsta-wrap,
it turned out to be a lot more lucrative than expected. You know we are here to serve you, Captain. They said good-bye.

Mendieta walked toward the building. Robles, a young officer, was covering reception. Is Ortega in? No, sir, but I'll tell you who is, your partner, what a beauty, isn't she? Would you vote for her for Mazatlán carnival queen? I'd even collect donations if she liked, they smiled. The duty officer had
El Debate
on the desk, open to the crime section, at the top they had a big picture of the Piggyback gangsta-wrap. Do they identify him? No. Mendieta was thinking if Pineda knew who it was he would not care to say, especially if it had turned him a profit.

In the cubicle Zelda Toledo was trying to get Mariana Kelly or Marcelo Valdés to take her call. Good morning, he saw the forensic report on the desk, is there anything in Montaño's report we don't already know? Nothing except that he died at about 4:30 a.m. from a silver bullet and that I'm invited out to dinner tonight, Mendieta smiled, and you know who is going to dinner with him, boss? His grandmother. Does he have one? That's his problem, tell me something, what nut uses silver bullets these days? Vampire hunters, did you watch any of those movies? Two, and I nearly fell asleep from boredom; listen, these people don't want to take my call. He put the bag with the Kleenex on the desk, do we have their addresses? She nodded, will you come with me? As your driver, but first let me make a call, from the desk drawer he pulled out a worn appointment book. What's that Kleenex? I want to identify the fragrance I found at Canizales's house. You went back? Last night, here it is. He dialed, got a hello, and said: So, do you know what I'm eating for breakfast? A dozen quail eggs poached in cranberry sauce, orange juice with nopales, and a macchiato. Well, I'm having lobster salad on rye smeared with tomato sauce and a double cappuccino. L.H. was a master perfume maker who had tired of mixing essential
oils and now worked once in a while for the Los Angeles police, as well as for the occasional Mexican friend. They had met at a course in Tijuana, L.H. passing on a couple of useful things in an otherwise tedious talk at police headquarters, plus an infinity of secrets the four subsequent nights in several bars across the city. That means you're in heaven. Lefty, my dear friend, what can I do for you? I've got a Kleenex that smells like nirvana, I'm going to send it to you. To the PO box I gave you, please. They exchanged a few more pleasantries and hung up.

Agent Toledo, whenever you say.

Zelda opened a drawer in her desk: Boss, I've got the list of calls. Anything new? I think so, she called him eight times between 2:14 and 5:47 a.m. but he didn't answer any of them, they turn up as missed calls on the other end; he made one to Navolato, to his parents' number at 10:13 Thursday night and one before that at 6:05 p.m. to Mazatlán to the Hotel La Siesta; since he died at about 4:30 in the morning it couldn't be Paola; Frank Aldana the dancer is staying at La Siesta, she fell silent. Zelda, have you ever seen an angry tiger put to sleep? What's that about? About us going to find Yoonohoo Valdés. Maybe he's out of the country or in Los Cabos. Did they tell you that? No, but it's Saturday, I don't think those people stay in the city over the weekend. Come on, you don't really believe they work nine to five like the English?

They found Marcelo Valdés's mansion in Colinas de San Miguel, partway up a mountain. It was immense, light green with gilded aluminum doors, and protected by a sixteen-foot-high wall with two turrets clad in purple and yellow ceramic tiles. They knocked. A young man, staring intently with pale eyes, opened the door and waited for the visitors to say something. Zelda Toledo spoke up: We are from Santiago de los Caballeros, we've
come to ask a favor of Don Marcelo. The young man requested instructions by cell phone, Mendieta spotted a camera above the door and turned toward the street, the young man put away the telephone, pulled out an AK from somewhere, and holding it in plain view said: The boss doesn't see garbage. He had turned to stone. He doesn't? Lefty said, his face suddenly contorted, but he's the Dumpster himself. The sentry raised the rifle, they heard running boots approaching, soon they had three guards standing before them preparing to shoot. Zelda pushed him toward the street: Let's go, boss, you don't want one of these animals filling you full of holes. You're leaving, Lefty Mendieta, without even saying hello? The Gringo stepped forward with an aggressive grin: Put those down, boys, these people are not from Santiago, but they come in peace. Well, I wouldn't want to leave without congratulating you, your security squad is spectacular. My man Lefty, whenever it can be of use to you, it's yours; the boss would be delighted to see you, but he's not in, can I help out with anything? Just one small thing, Gringo, I'd like him to recommend a supplier of silver bullets. They glared at each other, on the boil, the Gringo's smile broad and menacing. Are you planning to put away a werewolf or what? No, they raised my budget at headquarters and we thought we'd add a touch of class. I'll ask him when he gets in and I'll give you a call, have you got the same number? I hope you haven't forgotten it. What is well learned is never forgotten. I know you threatened Bruno Canizales over his relationship with Samantha, what time of day did you kill him? Doesn't Ortega work with you anymore? He was smiling again, he'll know exactly when, you're peeing outside the bowl, Lefty, I heard he died in bed from a single shot to the head, you know that isn't our style. Tell your boss we'll be back. Come back on Monday if you'd like to tell him yourself.

They got into the Jetta and drove off in silence. When they passed La Lomita, the detective opened his mouth: They say eating is therapeutic, Zelda looked at him surprised, I'll buy you an aguachile.

They went to Roberto's stand next to the Arts Council and set themselves down on the sidewalk in folding chairs with the Modelo brewery logo amid truck exhaust and rushing pedestrians. Frank Aldana is in Mazatlán, we should bring him in, she said, homosexual romances are passionate and cruel. We will, I don't want to ask the Mazatlecos to do it for us, they might lock him away for the rest of his days, I have a friend over there who could lend us a hand. Could they bring him to us? No, my dear, you will go and get him. Me? Boss, please, it had better be soon, next Saturday is Rodo's birthday and I want to spend it with him, don't be bad. You'll be back by then. She looked at him with her big eyes: That's why you took me out for seafood, right? To twist my arm. How could you think such a thing? He's my boyfriend, couldn't it be after his birthday? The guy is taking a course with Delfos, the dance company, I phoned the artistic director, she says he'll be there for several days. What, do you expect him to come back on his own? No, I didn't say that, do I have to bring him in or just interrogate him? Okay, stop whining, I'll go with you, we'll leave early Monday. Why do you do this to me? For police we're such complainers, aren't we, nothing makes us happy. Zelda asked for another hibiscus drink. Did you reach the parents? Nobody answered. Briseño doesn't want us bothering them, so let's pay them a visit this afternoon. Do I have to go with you? No. Boss, it's just that Rodo wants to go to a movie.

Cavalry charge. It was Laura. Do you know that Paola Rodríguez is dead? Oh, yeah? When did you find out? I just heard, we're in Navolato, leaving the cemetery. What did they tell you?
That she committed suicide. Oh. Listen, as far as I'm concerned she was the one who killed Bruno, she did it for revenge and to make good on her threat; I heard the wake is being held at the San Chelín on Zapata, in case you want to drop by. Are you going? Absolutely not. What's the atmosphere like over there? It's full of politicians and beautiful people. So it smells good. More or less. What about Engineer Canizales? Prim and proper. All right, thanks for letting me know.

Truly, that lawyer had the heart of a playboy.

How long has the dancer been at that course? A week. Well, lucky for him he has the alibi of his life. You know what I think, only the narcos could use silver bullets, if they put diamonds in their teeth and wear all that outlandish bling, why wouldn't they use silver bullets? Keep on like that and soon the Russians really will come for you. Is that good or bad? The detective looked at her, he liked her, so he decided not to leave her with the old joke. While he finished his shrimp and drank the spicy broth he explained a few things about being a detective.

She listened attentively. Why wasn't he married? What should she make of the rumors she heard sometimes at headquarters?

Mariana Kelly lived on Valadés Parkway in a modern apartment building. This time Mendieta did not want to get out of the car. Five minutes later, Toledo returned with the news that she was not at home. According to the doorman, a man of fifty or so, she usually spent weekends in Altata with her dog and with Señora Valdés and her son.

What shall we do? Get the telephone number.

At headquarters they found a copy of
News from the Empire
by Fernando del Paso with a note from Guillermo Ortega: “Jack the Ripper.” He had heard a lot about the book, so he decided
to take it home. Zelda found the number in the directory and called. The caretaker answered, they were not there, nor were they coming. Mendieta knew that he should not hold her up, that she had a date with her boyfriend, yet he made her suffer right up to the moment he left for Navolato.

The kid with the bike stamped into the room where the wake for Paola Rodríguez was under way. Aroma of roses. People everywhere. Packed in. His gang was by the entrance for whatever might be needed. The father was beside the coffin; once in a while he moved his head and a tear ran down his cheek. The mother sat in the front row, lifeless. Utterly lifeless. Flower wreaths beribboned with the names of the donors overflowed the usual space. Everyone was talking. In one corner Beatriz's friends commiserated with her about Jesús González Dávila's play
My Dearest Girl
and the pitiful audiences it was attracting: Being the best dramatist in Mexico isn't enough, so what that he's a human rights advocate, people don't know what that means. All the effort we put into acting is useless too, we live in one big dusty hovel. He positioned himself in the farthest corner and observed the crowd, most of them friends of the family because she was never very outgoing. Dante and his buddies from the university were drinking brandy, talking, one of them was telling jokes. Only her father and I loved her, the kid thought, me more than him, more than all of them, more than I love myself. Too bad the last cannot be first.

I said no, I don't want sex, I don't want anything. Girl, what's wrong, don't you see the way I am? Quit bugging me, and stop slobbering, you don't know how to kiss, you just drool all over me, you pig, you savage, don't touch my bra, no! Leave me alone, Zeke, please, I'm at the end of my rope. I love you, Paola, I'm crazy about you, I've got to have you, I want to be the love of your life. Not today, not now, stop, I couldn't care less what you want from me, sweet fuck-all; less than sweet fuck-all.

Beatriz sat down beside him. Babe, he said, you must be happy, there's one thing going around and around in my head, sometimes I think you're the one who sent her packing. Oh, no, she did it on her very own, and now you've run out of excuses, my king. I may not have any but I need time. What for? Everything is crystal clear. If I say I need it, I need it, babe, don't push me. As long as it's not too much time, oh, and I don't want to see you anywhere near that coffin, no long good-byes, and don't you dare volunteer to be a pallbearer. You are such a bitch, you don't even try to hide it. You stink of fish, where did you have lunch?

She stood up quickly to receive the condolences of several women from the neighborhood and the director of the play, who guided her away, his arm around her waist.

The kid with the bike blinked: I want to make you mine, Zeke, you are the toughest dude in the hood and the one I want to do it with, they were in the living room of her house. Beatriz shed her blouse and undid her pants. Forget it, babe, put that shit back on, he threw the blouse at her. I thought of everything except you saying no. I don't care what you thought, I'm in love with your sister, and I'm in it down to my little fingers, so I can't fall for anyone else or satisfy your desires. It also never occurred to me you were a faggot. Well, yeah, maybe I am, what of it?

He got to his feet. The funeral home staff was rolling the open casket into the chapel for the ceremony. People began drifting
over. The mother was sobbing. There's nothing in life I hate more than being a fucking dunce, the kid lamented. I never understood you and even less now. What is it, babe, why did you kill yourself? I never saw you lacking for a thing. It's true: There is nothing I hate more.