Chapter 9 #2
He wished he had more than the information that Inés had given him, but he supposed it was a start.
He realized now the mistakes he’d made. Like Inés had said, he’d been too much like Cándido, limpid and lukewarm.
If Perla wanted a roaring cauldron of passion, he could give her that.
She wanted moody and mysterious and intense? Fine. All in a day’s work.
Two more weeks. A tight deadline, but one that could be achieved.
He went looking for Perla and found her in the office. She tucked papers aside and stood to greet him.
“Good morning, Mr. Linares,” she said, with a crisp formality.
“Good morning to you too. I need a minute of your time,” he said.
“What is it?”
“I’m trying to determine the answer to a baffling question.
Why am I here? You wrote to me and invited me to spend a few days at your guesthouse, so that we might get to know each other, but we never speak alone, we do not spend time together.
Perhaps you find me annoying, or unsuitable, or flawed in a terrible way.
Yet I would appreciate the decency to tell me so to my face. ”
She seemed surprised by his tone of voice, which was insolent and sharp.
He’d never spoken to her like this; probably few people had.
He recognized her kind. She belonged to the old families that had fallen on leaner times, yet they still clung to the power their names once wielded, and the people in small towns tended to remember their might and history and bow their heads out of habit.
“I’m not used to having rude demands on my attention or my time,” she said.
“No, I’m sure you are used to having a fellow dance to your tune. For all I know you have a dozen men visit you each year—one for each month of the calendar—and laugh as they make fools of themselves.”
“That is an obscene thought,” she said, but he could tell it brought her pleasure to picture herself as the kind of woman who was inundated with suitors, the kind of woman who was serenaded each weekend. A modern Penelope, besieged by princes.
“I’ve spoken to people around town, and they’ve let me know you seem fond of Mr. Sotomayor. Maybe you have an understanding with him.”
“Why are you gossiping about me?”
“It’s not gossip if the information is offered freely and without any prodding.”
“I have no understanding with Mr. Sotomayor. He works for me. It’s rude of you to suggest anything else.”
“I’m sorry, but it needed to be said. There are women who will toy with a fellow’s heart with the ruthlessness of a cat stalking a canary. I’m not meant to be toyed with, Perla,” he told her. “By God, you’re a hard woman!”
Before she could reply, he pulled her to him and kissed her. She withdrew, flustered, but she was awfully slow about it. He thought of kissing her a second time for good measure, but decided once was enough, that it was best to leave her wanting.
He was certain she was about to scold him, so he spoke first. “I had to do that, and I won’t apologize,” he said.
“I should have done it sooner and I’m only sorry that I didn’t.
You may call me names now, and say I’m rude, and even order me to pack my bags and board the next train that passes through town. Yet it had to be done.”
“You are rude, Mr. Linares,” she said, yet seemed at a loss to think of more words and also seemed more than a little pleased.
He didn’t want to give her more time to gather her wits, so he smiled at her and simply left her there. As he was heading up the stairs, he saw Inés coming down with a laundry basket in her arms. They stopped in the middle of the staircase and spoke in whispers.
“The bait has been set,” he said. “I’ve kissed your dear aunt, and she seemed to like it.”
“That’s not the same as wedding bells, but it’s a beginning,” she said, resting the laundry basket on her hip.
“Leave it to me. I have a job for you, incidentally. Do you know where she keeps her financial documents?”
“In the office, and others in the desk in her room. They’re under lock and key, the things in her room, but I can get into the office. What do you want exactly?”
“An inventory. I need to know how many bank accounts she has, and with what banks. Property, safety-deposit boxes, that kind of stuff. I heard her talking to Cándido one day and he said she had ninety thousand pesos in the bank. Do you think it’s that much in cash, or was he talking about the value of the house and her accounts combined? ”
“Ninety thousand,” the girl said, astonished. “It must be in the bank. I can’t think the house would be worth that much, not in this town. But ninety thousand, what a number.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I’ve suspected she has a large amount stashed somewhere, but not the specifics.”
He should have kept the information to himself and could have cheated her in the process, but he figured the idea of a substantial payday would keep her incentivized. He could always trick her later, pretend it was less than he had imagined.
She looked him in the eyes and shook her head.
“You may think it’s silly, but I wasn’t curious about her money until now.
I never thought I’d have any of it, I figured I’d die old and penniless and that would be the end of it.
Or she’d leave me the house, with the leaks in the roof to keep me awake at night. ”
He felt a pang of sympathy for this girl. She had lived at the margins of everything, much like he had, albeit in a different way, though he’d had his share of sleepless nights punctuated with the music of a leaky roof.
—
For the next couple of days, Perla was subdued and did not talk much to him when they had their meals together.
Ulises remained equally quiet. He could tell his silence was like a flame that was slowly boiling her blood.
She was expecting a delicate apology or a repeat of his performance. He granted her neither.
As a result, her eyes seemed to be always fixed in his direction, anticipating words that did not come, caresses that were never offered.
Meanwhile, Inés had looked at most of the documentation he needed. Perla had two accounts and a safety-deposit box in Veracruz. The sum of it all was eighty-seven thousand pesos. There were other papers that Inés couldn’t get her hands on.
“She keeps documents in her desk, up in her room. It used to be my grandfather’s desk and it has a lock.
I have no idea where she stores the key,” she explained.
“The deed to the house must be in there, along with my grandfather’s old papers from when they still owned the coffee company. She also keeps cash there.”
“Can you pry it open?”
“I don’t think so, and if I break the lock, she’ll know I’ve been snooping around.”
“I’ve never been much of a lock picker,” he admitted. “It probably won’t make a difference; the house is useless anyway. We need liquid assets. And the cash she has stuffed in the desk can’t amount to much.”
Later, during dinner, the Zorrilla sisters and Inés discussed the upcoming festival celebrations while he maintained his silence. Inés turned toward him.
“The fireworks should be the best part; I always think they are. Do you like fireworks, Mr. Linares?” she asked.
“I do. It’s a pity I won’t be able to enjoy them. I’ll be gone by then.”
“Gone?”
“Your aunt’s hospitality cannot be eternal,” he said, looking at Perla as he spoke. “A man knows when he is wearing his welcome thin.”
Perla bristled at his choice of words, frowning, but did not speak.
—
Later that night Perla knocked at his door. She was wearing a prim white nightgown and a robe atop that, and her hair was pulled back tight, like in the daytime, as if she did not dare to wear it loose, as if every pin must remain tucked in place.
“I resent the implication you made today at the table.”
“Did I imply anything?” he replied.
“You make it sound like I’m inhospitable.”
“Of course not. You have been a good hostess.”
“Then? Why would you think of leaving if you’re comfortable?”
“Do you wish me to stay?”
“I did not say that.”
“Yet here you are at my doorway.”
She was clearly exasperated by the tenor of the conversation. “You may do as you please,” she told him.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, not with the sweet, gentle kiss of a fine gentleman, but the hard kiss of a man claiming a lover.
“You said I could do as I pleased,” he said when he stepped back, and smiled.
He thought she might slap him. But no, she merely stood still, as if turned to stone. Inés would have slapped him. Maybe scratched him. It would have been the other way around with her: she would have kissed him, if she ever wanted to.
What a twisted mind I have, he thought, kissing the aunt and thinking of the niece.
But then, he had a twisted profession and a criminal heart.
“Good night,” he told Perla, and closed the door in her face.
—
“You have her in an awful mood,” Inés told him as she deposited his breakfast tray by the bed.
He unfolded the newspaper and smiled. “The mood of a cat in heat,” he said. “I kiss her thrice a day and leave her breathless.”
“Better be careful. A lion will bite your hand off.” She glanced at the calendar on the wall. “One more week.”
“Plenty of time.”
“Maybe you should fuck her tonight. To ensure things.”
“You’re blunt.”
“You’ve heard worse, I’m sure,” she said with an ease that made him wonder how exactly this girl had managed to survive under the tutelage of her aunt.
Perla must not have cared much about her niece, letting her grow wild.
Then again, Inés seemed to have a talent for subterfuge, for concealing her true self.
He had to admit he hadn’t met a girl like her. Sure, he’d known women of the criminal type, thieves and pickpockets and even those who were handy with a knife, but for all her cynicism Inés still had a freshness that was out of place.
“Will you fuck her tonight?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“What? You don’t want to? Men are dogs, always trying to stick it in the first hole they find.”