Chapter 14 #3
“And no one can really vouch for you in this town because of that. No one could say, for example, if you hadn’t been in Jalisco before coming here.”
“I told you, I don’t know anything about Jalisco.”
“Mr. Lagos was courting himself a rich widow in Jalisco in December of last year. It was a whirlwind courtship, you know? Would people say your recent marriage was a whirlwind courtship?”
“It’s not a crime to fall in love, is it? Look, if you want to see some form of identification, I have it,” he said. He added a note of irritation to his voice and stared at the man, but he kept his mouth weak and trembling, as though he might burst into tears if he was accused of any misdeed.
All the while he pictured the sons of the widow Aguirre greeting him with pistols as he stepped out in handcuffs at a rail station, yet even if this private detective had figured him for a criminal, he was no real cop, and so Ulises forced himself to maintain the facade of a slightly miffed but not terribly concerned citizen.
The detective let out an annoyed sigh that hinted at wasted time and dead ends. “You can keep the postcards,” he said. He stood up. “Have a good day.”
“Very well. Inés, can you see Mr. Contreras out? And maybe you can bring me the paper afterward?” he asked.
“Of course. Follow me, Mr. Contreras,” she said.
They stepped out of the room. He practically jumped out of his chair when they reached the hallway. The muscles in his body had been as tight as springs and he needed the release the movement brought him. He took a deep breath.
He gave it a few seconds and then quietly headed down the way they went, careful not to be seen. He could hear them talking in the foyer. He peeked around the corner. Inés had fetched the detective’s hat and was handing it to him.
“Sir, I wanted to tell you something, only I need you to promise you won’t repeat it,” Inés said.
“What is it?” the detective replied.
“Mr. Linares lied to you back there.”
He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut and leaned against the wall, but remained quiet while his heart pounded in his chest.
She spoke again, her voice hesitant. “When he married my aunt…it wasn’t a whirlwind courtship.
They’ve known each other for three years now.
She’d visit him in Mexico City, but she didn’t tell anyone in town about it.
They were secretly engaged for a while. She was supposed to be in mourning after her father died, and this is a small town.
You must understand, my aunt is a proper woman, she’s not a floozy. But it wouldn’t look proper.”
Inés paused dramatically, then her voice became more plaintive when she spoke again.
“He can’t be the man you’re looking for, sir. December of last year, sir, they spent it together, but she told everyone she was staying at our cousin’s house. In reality…”
Inés whispered something. The detective coughed uncomfortably.
Ulises was not looking at them, careful to remain hidden, but he could picture the man’s flushed face.
He was being made privy to a lady’s intimate romantic life.
Men often liked to pretend women had no desires, no need for sexual gratification.
“My aunt is a good woman, sir.”
“Yes, well…” The man cleared his throat. “I thank you for that information. It certainly is relevant. I won’t trouble you again.”
“Have a good day, sir.”
He listened as the door swung open and closed, followed by the soft click of the latch. He emerged from his hiding place feeling as though he might fly right up through the ceiling, his body felt so light. She turned around and hurried to his side.
“How did I do?” she asked.
“You’re the most magnificent liar.”
She smiled, a giddy joy spreading across her face. He smiled too, the anxiety he’d felt moments before turning into relief and this in turn transforming into glee.
“Really?”
“A natural.”
“Thanks. Hey, I don’t know your real name. Are you Leonardo or Ulises or someone else?” she asked, curious and eager as she looked up at him.
“As if I’d tell you.”
“Fine. Keep your secrets,” she said, but without spite, just teasing him.
The rush of adrenaline still coursing through his veins, or the way she pouted, prompted him to lean forward and kiss Inés on the mouth.
A dip of the head, a quick peck, almost innocent in its haste, but when he pulled away he felt breathless, and her eyes were wide and stared at him with a fixedness that prompted him to touch her cheek.
That reflexive movement, that gentle caress, seemed to burn her skin, for she slapped away his hand and jumped back.
“You idiot, someone could see,” she said, her voice close to a hiss.
She was correct, and he blushed. He headed to his room, where he washed his hair and removed any traces of shoe polish. Then he tucked away the spectacles he’d been wearing and changed into a different set of clothes.
When he was done, he looked at himself in the mirror and rubbed a hand against his smooth cheeks. Irritated, he flung aside the towel he’d used to dry his hair and fell on the bed with a furious movement, making the bedsprings squeal.