The Chupacabra (14 page)

The Aztecs believed that xolo dogs were needed by their masters' souls to help them safely through the underworld. Today the xolo breed is still sold in rural Mexico for its meat. It is believed to have extraordinary curative powers. It is sold on the black market and is strictly against the law.

It took a while to round up the family and Izel in the kitchen.

Vanessa insisted that Armado tell the story—a very abbreviated one, leaving out the curse and
Chupacabra and focusing entirely on the murder.

When Armado produced the skull, their story finally started to become real.

Frida took the skull gently from Armado and held it reverently in her hands. Then she turned to Vanessa.

“I always suspected Pablo had something to do with Casco's disappearance. Casco was a good friend to me when I was young. Thank you, Vanessa,” she said. Frida's eyes glistened, and Vanessa wondered if she was going to cry. Wow, this really was another side to her. But Vanessa had not been part of the storytelling and was surprised that Frida was saying this directly to her.

“Oh, but it wasn't me,” she said. “It was Xolo, really. He's Casco's dog,” she added when she saw their blank faces. “He attached himself to me from the moment I arrived here, remember? He wanted to tell me something from the very beginning, only I couldn't work it out at first. He was the one that led me to the bones … the body.”

It took a couple of hours for the police to arrive and get spotlights set up. They dug as darkness fell. The noises of the forest and the nighttime insects
began to fill the air and Vanessa tried to hide her growing frustration. Why didn't they go straight to Pablo's house to arrest him? They could always continue digging in the morning when it was light.

When she said as much, Joseph's gentle reminder that evidence comes first did nothing to calm her. As they waited, Xolo sat at Vanessa's feet, and Frida stood close to her but made no attempt at conversation. Vanessa had two protectors now.

For the next few days the police came back and forth to the ranch, digging more holes in the clearing and asking questions. By the time they pieced the story together and went to Pablo's house, it was no surprise to Vanessa that Pablo had fled.

There was no need to break in. They simply opened the front door. The policemen went first, followed by Joseph and Frida and then Armado and Vanessa. Carmen and Nikki had stayed back at the house with Izel, who said she could not prepare all the meals without help.

As they shuffled forward into the room, the stale smell was the first thing to hit Vanessa. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Frida, and when she finally got into the small room and looked around she was
horrified to see a load of dogs lying on the floor. They were all hairless like Xolo. Some were lying on top of each other, others on their own. None were moving.

“Oh my God!” Vanessa cried. “They're all dead.”

“No.” Joseph put his hand on the chest of one of the dogs. “The brute. He's drugged them.”

Looking closer, Vanessa was relieved to see the small rise and fall of the dogs' chests. She looked at their black hairless skin. They were like Xolo, but there was something different about them. They were much bigger, and their heads were a strange shape. One or two had their mouths open, and Vanessa could see that their teeth and gums were deformed.

“Why did he have so many dogs?” Vanessa asked. One of the policemen looked at her and answered in Spanish.

Frida translated for Vanessa. “Pablo was breeding the xolos for meat. Some people around here believe it cures sickness and protects against evil.” Frida sat down on a bockety chair. “The xolo was a sacred dog for the Aztecs, and they ate the meat all the time. I was given some of it as a child.”

Frida fell silent. Vanessa tried not to let her disgust show on her face.

“It's illegal now, of course,” Joseph added, “but it is still sold on the black market.” His voice was grim. “Big money. That was what Pablo was after, obviously.”

“But why do they look like this? Their faces all deformed, their teeth such a mess?” Vanessa asked tearfully.

“It's probably inbreeding,” said Joseph. “If you keep breeding from within a very small group of related dogs, you get deformities.”

“Oh, how could he do that to those poor dogs?” Vanessa was upset now. “Izel was right. He is
el diablo
,” she said bitterly.

“They all seem to be alive, at least.” Armado put a reassuring hand on Vanessa's shoulder. “My guess is that they have been drugged to keep them quiet most days. He probably exercises them at night.”

“He exercises them at night all right …” Joseph said angrily. “On my livestock! It is these deformed creatures that have been killing our cows and goats. Look at their teeth.”

“Well, at least all that is over now,” said Armado. “Thanks to Vanessa.”

Joseph put an arm around her shoulder and smiled
grimly. “Mystery solved. I must say it is an enormous relief.”

Vanessa looked at Frida, who had said nothing since she'd told them about being fed dog meat as a child. She seemed to have aged ten years by simply crossing the threshold of Pablo's horrible house. But she didn't look upset now, or distressed, Vanessa thought; she looked distracted. Or maybe bewildered was a better description.

In Mexico, naguals or blood-sucking witches are believed to experience an uncontrollable craving for blood as many as four times a month. But June, July, and August are the rainiest and coldest months, and this is when naguals are most active.

The last couple of weeks of Nikki and Vanessa's stay were very pleasant. The dogs had been taken away by the vet, and there was no sign of Pablo. He had stolen one of the horses and appeared to have gone for good.

Frida and Joseph were in much better moods, and
they made a huge effort to entertain the girls and to put the terrible business of the dogs behind them. They went on shopping trips to the beautiful towns of Quértaro and San Miguel de Allende and visited the famous old silver mines. Frida told them stories of how, as a kid, she used to climb down the mine shafts with her friends and then swim out by the river.

They were beginning to see what Frida must have been like as a carefree young girl. She had even taken to riding with Armado and Vanessa on the occasional evening before dinner. Mealtimes had improved too, more chat at the table and much more laughter.

A couple of evenings before they were due to leave, Izel made an even bigger dinner than normal—a banquet in the girls' eyes—in honor of their departure. They were already making plans for Carmen to visit Ireland next summer, although they were still unsure if Frida would allow it.

“Get Armado to come with you,” Vanessa suggested eagerly.

Nikki and Carmen exchanged a knowing look, and Vanessa felt her face burning. This blushing thing was becoming an absolute nuisance. She never used to do it.

That night as she lay on her bed, Vanessa's mind went back to the evening that they had found the dogs. She didn't believe that the dogs were responsible for killing the livestock, but everybody else seemed to. Everybody but Frida, perhaps. She had looked confused rather than relieved.

She remembered the creepy feeling in Pablo's house—damp and smelly. It had literally been a prison for those poor dogs. She thought of the sink in the kitchen that was piled high with dirty plates and wondered if they were still there. The place was a testament to a dismal and lonely life. She didn't feel sorry for Pablo, however; it was hard to feel sorry for someone who had killed another man, a good man, a man who only wanted to help the local people and protect the family.

Besides finding the dogs, the thing that had surprised Vanessa most about Pablo's house had been the paintings. While there had been almost no furniture, apart from a small table and chairs, there was a series of delicate watercolors in clip frames on the walls. It was very difficult to imagine that Pablo was in any way artistic. Even if he hadn't painted them himself, it was still a surprise to see them there.

Vanessa finally fell into a light sleep around three o'clock in the morning, waking again about two hours later. It was still dark outside but she felt wide awake, her mind super alert and her heart thumping. He was back; she knew it. The killings would start up again.

She got dressed, slipped quietly out of her room, and made her way along the corridor to where she thought Armado's bedroom was. She had never been there, but she had seen him disappear into it a couple of times.

Standing there looking at three identical doors along a wall, she froze. What if she picked the wrong one? After a few moments of indecision she knocked gently on the first one. There was no response, and she stood with her clenched fist poised to knock again. Maybe she should just go on her own. But her memory of the last time she had come face to face with Pablo in the dark was not one she could easily forget, and she found herself knocking again.

It was Frida who opened the door, however. She did not appear in the least bit surprised to see Vanessa, though Vanessa's toes curled with embarrassment in her flip-flops. She mouthed an apology to Frida and backed away.

But it was as if Frida had been expecting her.

“Let's go, Vanessa,” she said decisively. “We'll take the horses.”

Vanessa didn't ask herself why Frida was fully dressed. She just allowed herself to be led through the back door and out to the stables.

They had saddled up their horses and were riding in the direction of the river before Frida spoke again.

“I assume you were intending to go to Pablo's house. How do you know that he has come back to the ranch?”

“I don't know how. I sometimes just follow an impulse when it comes to me. Maybe it's not always the best thing to do, but …”

Frida smiled. She understood.

“I ran away with Joseph on an impulse,” she said. “But would I go back and change it—even with all that has happened? Lose Carmen and Armado? Never.”

Frida shook her head vehemently, her long hair cascading down her shoulders. It was the first time that Vanessa had seen it out loose. She looked much younger, like a teenager, really.

Frida rode slightly ahead. When they got near
Pablo's house, which was still in darkness, they slowed down.

“Did you notice the paintings on the walls in Pablo's house?” Vanessa asked. “Did he paint, do you know?”

“They are mine. I was shocked to see them. I always thought that my father had burned them along with the rest of my belongings, but Pablo must have saved them from the bonfire.”

Why would Pablo, of all people, want to save Frida's paintings?

They tied up their horses not far from the house, but out of sight, and made their way on foot. Frida didn't knock; she walked right in and turned on the light. The room was exactly as before. Nothing moved, and no sign of Pablo. Vanessa examined the paintings.

“They're beautiful, Frida. So delicate.”

They sat on either side of the rickety table and waited.

A few birds began to sing as the darkness lifted slowly outside, and then finally the door groaned on its hinges. Vanessa jumped in fright and glanced quickly across at Frida. She looked calm and very poised.

Pablo had his large curved knife already in his hand, and Vanessa kicked herself for not remembering it. What had they walked themselves into? They were sitting ducks.

He barely glanced at Vanessa. His eyes were trained on Frida. For a split second, Vanessa saw the pleasure in his face at seeing her and understood at last: Pablo had been in love with Frida all his life. When she chose Joseph without a moment's hesitation, his love had turned him inside out, and he'd sought revenge upon her. First he had destroyed her relationship with her parents, and now he was destroying her ranch.

Pablo spoke intensely, the knife resting on the table between them. Vanessa could not understand a single word of it. Nahuatl, not Spanish. His voice started low and soft, pleading, but when Frida argued back he began to gesticulate, pointing to the ground where his dogs should have been. He was getting really angry, but Frida did not appear to be backing down. Oh, God, how would this end?

Pablo grabbed the knife and stuck it into the table, making it stand on its point. Frida never flinched, but Vanessa shrank back in her chair. She could hear the
blood roaring in her ears. It was her fault. Why on earth had she brought Frida there in the middle of the night?

In fact, it was no longer night; dawn was almost upon them. Outside Vanessa heard a bark—a low, clear bark that she recognized instantly.

“Xolo,” she gasped.

She watched, horrified, as Pablo turned to her and his face broke into a sickening leer. His bottom teeth were blackened and many of them were missing. But it was the glimpse of a single, huge, sharp tooth in the upper row that shocked her to her core. Pablo rose to his feet, opened the door, and whistled loudly.

Vanessa jumped to her feet too, in panic, ready to run out to Xolo. “No!” she shouted loudly. “Leave Xolo alone!”

Frida grabbed Vanessa by the shoulders and held her close. Vanessa shook her off angrily.

“He's going to kill him this time. We have to stop him, please,” Vanessa begged.

“Let him go,” Frida said quietly. “Trust me, Vanessa.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Another whistle from Pablo was followed by a bark. This time it was closer, and Vanessa shut her
eyes. She couldn't bear to think of Xolo dead, drained like the others.

“Listen,” Frida whispered.

Vanessa focused on the noises outside, every muscle in her body waiting in terror to hear Xolo in pain. And then she heard it, the faint hooting of an owl that grew louder, the beating of wings. Lechusa?

She pulled away roughly from Frida, determined to stop Pablo.

“It is Lechusa, Vanessa. The owl woman. But it is Pablo's call she has answered. Her wings beat for him this time and not for you.” Her tone was urgent.